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Kylo was breathing heavy when the door to his quarters blessedly slid closed behind him, sealing him off from the world. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to get the screaming in his mind to just stop. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this, so overwhelmed and like he was about to burst – he knew the feeling well, but something about this time was worse than usual.
Snoke always knew how to push him to the limit. He was always trying to find Kylo’s weaknesses so they could be eliminated, as he’d said many times, and this was just another one. Too much sensation, too much feedback through the Force, too much in his mind, all of it at once it was just – too much. There’s no other way Kylo could describe the sensory overload Snoke had inflicted upon him. His mind felt both scraped raw yet full to the point of pain.
It was this feeling that so often led to carved up consoles or destroyed quarters – or, when he was younger, truly impressive tantrums and shattered windows. It was something he’d struggled with all his life, though it was better in some places than others. His mind just couldn’t take it when there was too much input and he had the Force giving him a higher baseline from birth. He didn’t know how everyone else seemed to manage it.
Right now, he was on the precipice, the last moment where he could still think straight before he went right over the cliff and starting breaking things or hurting himself. Those were the only ways he knew how to vent this, as unproductive as they were. He never wanted to, no, hated how he could never control himself and how Snoke would chastise him for it, but he didn’t know what else to do.
A memory came, unbidden, of a life under another name – one he still tried to forget. The way Leia never quite understood, but tried her best to calm a little boy who couldn’t manage it himself. She’d sing to him, hold him, stroke his hair, replacing the feelings of too-much-too-much with simple, pleasant grounding ones. Sensations he could latch onto, could focus on until the cacophony in his mind had quieted enough for him to think again.
Kylo shook his head, dislodging the thought. That wasn’t him, not anymore. Nor was he the one Tai had sat next too, silent but present. That boy had always told Tai to leave, to get away, it wasn’t safe to be near him, but Tai had always refused. He wouldn’t interfere, but he would always make sure that boy knew he was there and wasn’t going to leave him. Only once had he done anything more, when the boy had slammed his fist into his own thigh, forcing a cry of pain out from between clenched teeth. Tai had quickly approached, holding the boy’s hands in his own, unafraid and caringly firm.
The memory felt like bile in his throat, given all that had happened later, so Kylo pushed it away too. These weren’t helpful. The tide inside him surged, threatening to pull him under, and Kylo’s fists tightened further, until his bones ached from the pressure.
But there were other memories, like those with his knights. The Knights of Ren weren’t known as a gentle group, but their bond was sincere and real, and now that Kylo was one of them, that extended to him as well. They weren’t always the best at it, but they tried, always did everything they could for one of their own.
Trudgen would offer distraction, usually by having Kylo sit and listen to him talk about the collections he’d gathered over their missions, showing Kylo each item in turn. Ushar gave an outlet, a sparring match where Kylo knew he didn’t have to worry about holding back or hurting his partner. Kuruk would give a soft, heavy blanket for Kylo to wrap himself in and silent company in the cockpit, aside from the hum of the ships engines. With Cardo, it was either a holo or a game, something to absorb himself in, while Vicrul would insist on a snack and a beverage, distraction and sustenance all in one. And while the knights were all tactile with one another, Ap’lek was by far the most, letting Kylo lay in his lap while Ap’lek stroked through his hair.
That. That was something Kylo could cling to. His knights, his brothers, his chosen family. They may not always understand him, but they didn’t judge him, encouraged him to be who he truly was and aim for what he wanted in life, not what he was told to want.
The shrill hum in his mind ebbed for a moment and Kylo seized it. Maybe his knights weren’t here, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use what they’d taught him to try to help himself. Some of it wasn’t possible, like the sparring, the talking, and the physical contact, but the rest – he had to at least try.
Kylo had a stash of both rations and snacks he’d grabbed while on missions and picked out his favourites – a sweet, fizzy fruit beverage and a dessert bar. Next he grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and threw it on the bed, wrapping himself in both of them. Even combined, they weren’t as heavy as Kuruk’s, which must have been weighted somehow, but even the light pressure and the feeling of security brought his mind closer to centre. It was almost bearable now.
He then retrieved his datapad from the desk he never used using the Force and set it in projection mode, turning on a holo film he remembered Cardo had shown him once. It was mindless, some action movie with just enough plot to hold it together and some ‘good guys always win’ moral at the end. It didn’t need to be amazing, it just had to hold Kylo’s attention, and this would do the trick.
He could feel himself settling, the crescendo of aching fullness in his mind starting to slowly, oh so slowly, recede as Kylo chewed the dessert bar and watched the over the top choreographed punching that played out on the holo. Okay, he could do this. He could manage himself. Kylo found himself idly rubbing the blanket between his finger and thumb, the repetitive motion and the soft texture oddly soothing as well, so he kept doing it.
As he calmed, Kylo wondered at Snoke once again pushing him to this limit. He knew he shouldn’t question his master’s methods, but he wondered sometimes if Snoke didn’t understand just how awful it was for him. Or maybe that was the point – to push Kylo there and force him to learn how to combat it, like he was right now. Maybe it was Kylo’s fault for taking so long to figure out how to handle Snoke’s training.
After all, it simply wouldn’t make sense for Snoke to want Kylo to constantly be in distress and so unstable he couldn’t even control himself. They’d only just started his training a few months ago, but Kylo knew Snoke had his best interests at heart. He had to – why else would he have been with Kylo, in some form, virtually his entire life?
Kylo would improve, he would learn to manage. He’d done it today, after all, had managed to steer himself away from full on melting down. It was the first time, pretty much in his entire life, that he’d ever managed to do it alone. Better yet, he’d done it thanks to the help of people who truly cared about him – his knights. It was yet more proof he was on the right path; Luke had always told him attachments made Force-users weak, whereas the Knights of Ren knew better.
For right now, though, Kylo would let himself rest and recover from the near disaster. He’d finish the holo, maybe have another snack if he wanted, and enjoy the sensation of the blanket. More importantly, he’d remember this for next time. Hopefully Snoke would be so proud of him for managing this that he wouldn’t need to force Kylo into that state again, but, even if he did have to, Kylo had a new strategy that left him feeling comforted and safe for the first time since he’d left the Night Buzzard behind to pursue his training. He smiled softly; now that he knew how to do this, he felt more sure than ever that he was on the right path.