Archive of Our Own ^beta

Amongst the Arts, street photography was certainly not the most popular, nor even the most easily recognised. But while most people knew next to nothing about it, they did know Brendol Hux. The only son of world-famous photographer Brendol Hux Sr., the twenty nine year old’s clean, striking shots were often prominently featured in swanky galleries and exhibitions. Wealthy collectors paid thousands of dollars to hang them up in their offices or in their homes, and Hux used the money to buy himself a penthouse apartment in the heart of the city. (His younger fans often speculated about the existence of a possible lover living with him, based on his social media posts – they didn’t know Millie was just his cat.)  

Right now, however, Brendol Hux was pissed.

It was barely 8am on a freezing January morning, and a stupid, insufferable, asshole of a man was pissing him the fuck off. Hux knew it was only a matter of seconds before he completely lost it.

I am not drunk enough to deal with this right now.

The whole matter had begun simply enough. On his way home from breakfast, Hux had noticed a Moment, took out his DSLR, focused, and snapped. His movements were like clockwork, precise and swift, and he did not pause until he had taken at least a dozen shots. Once he was satisfied, he turned to the subject of the photographs – a tall, dark-haired man in a grey hoodie – and started to ask him for permission to use the shots.

Usually, everything went smoothly. Most of the time, the people lucky enough to feature in his photographs were eager and excited, feeling extremely proud to have their photo taken by someone as famous as him; other times, they were camera-shy, and Hux would nod and agree not to post the photos anywhere, or at least blur their faces to keep their identity a secret.

This asshole was neither. This asshole was pissed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, stalking right up to Hux and stopping only inches away from his face.

Hux gave a brief scowl at this sudden closeness, but quickly masked it with a professional smile. “Pardon me, my name is Brendol Hux and I am a photographer.”

He handed him his card. The man didn’t even look at it.                                

“I don’t care who you are, you can’t just take someone’s photo without their damn permission.”

“I was just going to ask you for it.”

Hux always asked after he took the photos, not before. He was aware that some people took issue with doing it this way around, but he knew that if he wasted any time in asking them first, the Moment would be lost forever.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have it. Delete them.”

Hux took several deep breaths. It wasn’t the first time that he had encountered such people – rude fucks – and he knew that he had to keep his cool, that he couldn’t hit this guy in the face with his 2kg camera no matter how much he wanted to.

“I understand if you don’t want your face to be seen. You have my word that I will not post the pictures anywhere, and use them only as references for myself.”

“I don’t think you heard me, I said delete them. Now.”

What Hux wanted to say was: Look you son-of-a-bitch, I said I’m not going to spread your stupid face around the Internet or anything, I just want to keep the photos because I fucking took them as part of my work.

Instead what he said was: “I do apologise, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. I assure you that these will only ever be seen by me and no one else, and only for work purposes. Here, you can view them if you like.”

In the photos, the tall man leant against a grimy streetlamp by the side of the road, a cigarette in his hand. He had been in the midst of exhaling, and the camera caught the resulting cloud of cigarette smoke as a sort of gloomy halo about his face. A bright red sports car, speeding by on the road, provided a stark contrast to the grey man on the pavement.

They were good photos, and Hux was proud of them. As he held out his camera to the other man, he was sure that the latter would see that too, and let him keep them.

Hux was wrong, of course.

He heard soft, steady beeping coming from his camera, and looked up to see that the tall man had taken hold of it. He was pressing the Delete button with much more force than was necessary, as if it were a particularly nasty bug that he aimed to squish out of existence.

What Hux really wanted to do now was punch the man in the face.

And this time he did, reputation be damned.

---

It was now a solid two hours later, and Hux was back in the comfort of his apartment, Millie curled up on his lap. The punch from earlier had left the tall man looking more confused than hurt, and Hux had taken the opportunity to grab his camera and run.

It wasn’t easy being a street photographer. Some days, Hux wandered around for hours without taking a single shot. Other days, he stayed up till five in the morning, editing his photos to perfection. Sometimes he punched people in the face.

His phone rang, startling Millie and causing her to jump off him. Mildly upset at the sudden loss of his companion, he answered it with an irritated huff.

“What.”

“Hello Brendol,” came the distinctive voice on the other end. Hux didn’t like that voice.

Snoke was a friend of the family, having worked closely with Hux Sr. on a number of projects in the past. He visited sometimes, during Christmas or New Year’s Day, but Hux always found the old man to be rather… unsettling. Perhaps it was the way his smile never quite reached his eyes, instead looking almost pasted on. Or perhaps it was the way he spoke, soft and sibilant like a snake (when Hux was much younger, he had thought that Snoke was actually named ‘Snake’ and that his birth certificate just had a typo). Either way, he had never liked dealing with the man, and he silently cursed the terrible way his morning was playing out.

“Oh, good morning Snoke. What can I do for you?”

“No need to be so formal,” he chuckled. Hux shuddered. “It concerns that new gallery I’m setting up, the one that opens in July. I would like you to come up with something to display in the foyer.”

Hux vaguely recalled receiving an email from Snoke about the gallery some months ago, but this project was new. Still, it wasn’t the first time that Snoke had asked him to do a piece for him, and for all his creepiness, the man was rich. Millie could always use more cat toys.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?”

“It’s actually a collaborative effort between you and… someone else. He’s new but he’s talented, and could definitely use the publicity.”

“Is he a photographer as well?”

“No, he’s an artist. I suggest you go meet him today at his studio to discuss the project.”

He rattled off a name and an address, and Hux scrambled to take it down on the palm of his hand.

“Oh, and Brendol?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to kill him.”

Before Hux had the chance to ask him what he meant, Snoke put down the phone, and all he heard was the mocking sound of the dial tone.

---

Hux didn’t like working with people. They could never see eye to eye with him, and often tried to force their own interpretations of the project without ever listening to his. He suspected they were envious of his success, or viewed him as a mediocre, talentless hack who simply rode on his father’s coattails. Every time he had the bad luck of having to ‘collaborate’ with such people, he found that he simply could not bring himself to enjoy his work, and instead counted the days until he could finally be free again.

Put simply, Hux didn’t like people.

The address Snoke had given him took him to a less savoury part of town, and he alighted from his cab with trepidation. The apartments here looked old and worn, with faded, suspiciously-coloured streaks running down the pipes and the walls. The air smelled like petrol, cigarette smoke, and weed.

The flat he was looking for was located at the far end of a filthy, narrow corridor. Its windows were dirty and covered in dark splashes of paint, so Hux could barely see anything as he tried to peer inside.

With a sigh, he double-checked the address, and rang the doorbell. There was a loud thump from within, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.

It was at that moment that Hux had a bad feeling. He had them fairly frequently, and they almost always turned out to be true. He had had a bad feeling the day before his grandfather passed away, all those years ago. He had had it again last month, when Millie had accidentally swallowed his lens cap.

The door opened, and Hux saw the asshole that he had punched three hours ago.

Ah, fuck.

---

Hux ducked as the other man took one look at him and swung his fist. He had ditched the hoodie for a black tank top stained with paint, and he looked even angrier than he had in the morning. He carried a paintbrush in his other hand, and looked ready to jam the handle into Hux’s eye if the latter wasn’t careful.

“Wait wait wait! Stop! I’m looking for someone!”

“You punched me in the face!”

“You deleted my photos!”

Hux had managed to squeeze his way into the flat, and he braced himself against the door as the other man loomed over him and glowered. Hux refused to back down and glared right back at him, and they stayed like that for about a minute, neither willing to budge. Finally, Hux opened his mouth.

“I’m looking for Kylo Ren.”

He knew the answer he would get before the other man even responded.

“I’m Kylo Ren. What do you want?”

“I’m supposed to work with you on a project for Snoke.”

Hux had to physically force himself to say it. The words “work with you” left a bad taste in his mouth, as did the name “Snoke”.

Ren, on the other hand, seemed to calm down. His eyes lost their fire, and he slowly backed away from Hux, motioning him to sit down on the lone, tattered couch in the centre of the room. It gave a mournful creak as he lowered his gangly frame into it.

Now that Hux could finally get a good look around the flat, he was not surprised to see that it was just as messy as he had assumed. Several easels, with bright and undiscernible paintings, were crowded in a corner, while a series of small models were scattered on the floor near his feet. They looked like little soldiers, clad in white armour and holding even tinier rifles. Hux found them rather cute. The only other rooms in the flat were a bedroom and a bathroom, along with a small kitchenette.

On the coffee table in front of him was yet another model, but this one seemed different from the rest. It was a helmet, black as night, with shiny silver tubes outlining the eyes. Instead of a nose or a mouth, the bottom half of the face was covered with a single flat piece, giving the whole thing a sinister look. The title of the sculpture was scribbled on a tag half-hidden below the base: ‘self-portrait’.

Ren had closed the door and was now leaning against it. Somewhat awkwardly, he asked, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m good.”

He nodded and stared into the distance, seemingly unused to civil human interaction. After a while, he spoke again.

“So, you’re Brendol Hux?”

“I gave you my card this morning, didn’t I?”

Ren nodded again. Hux wanted to die.

“Snoke is my mentor. He told me that this would be a good opportunity to really put my work out there. To become known. Up till now, I’ve only ever been in small exhibitions or art festivals, but Snoke is confident that with this project, I can finally make it big.” He paused and gave Hux a serious look. “He said I could learn a lot from you.”

This last comment came as a surprise, and Hux let it show on his face. What exactly was there to learn from him? And even if there was, how on earth did Snoke know?

He cleared his throat and said, “Well, I can’t guarantee anything, but for now let’s just let bygones be bygones and focus on this project.”

He held out his hand, and Ren walked over to take it. His callused hands were big, easily dwarfing Hux’s own, and his grip was strong and firm.

“Since Snoke trusts you, I guess I’ll trust you too.” Ren’s voice had a hint of doubt in it. “Even though you did punch me.”

“I’m sorry for hitting you, alright?” Hux had a feeling that this punching incident would haunt him for a very long time. As an afterthought, he added, “But if you piss me off again, I won’t hesitate to do it a second time.”

Ren laughed, a deep low rumble, and his lips quirked slightly to form a ghost of a smile that quickly disappeared. Hux found himself thinking that he would do anything to see that rare smile again, and mentally berated himself.

“I look forward to working with you.”

---

As it turned out, working with Kylo Ren was far from easy. By the time Hux left the flat to head home, any and all sappy thoughts about precious smiles were wiped from his head.

To begin with, their styles were as different as fire and water. Ren’s creations were all driven by emotion – anger, frustration, grief. When he painted or sculpted, he did so with his entire being, foregoing reality for days or weeks as he lost himself in his work. If Ren was chiselling a statue of a mother weeping over the body of her dead child, he would do so with wet eyes and trembling hands, and when he showed Hux the statue in question, after the latter had given him a decidedly sceptical look, he did note that its lines and features looked rather shaky and uneven. If Ren was painting a picture of a battlefield (and he had several such paintings stashed around the house), he used wild, furious strokes of red paint, as if he were slashing the canvas in a fit of rage and causing it to bleed onto the floor.

Hux, on the other hand, preferred a more minimalist aesthetic. His photos all had a clear subject and focus, with sharp clean images and not a pixel out of place. The humidity-controlled cabinets in his apartment housed six different cameras, all varying in size, shape, and quality. While he did have a tendency to become deeply immersed in his work, he was sure it was not to such an extreme degree as Ren. Hux had brought a portfolio of his work to show Ren, but the other man seemed unable to truly appreciate them, and the only thing he said was, “Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

They had attempted to throw some ideas back and forth, but each one was quickly shot down by the other. Hux found Ren’s suggestions too bombastic and avant-garde, while Ren found Hux’s incredibly boring. After snapping at each other for over an hour, Hux figured that he had better leave before the incident from that morning repeated itself.

“I suppose it’s still too early to come up with anything substantial, so we might as well stop for today.”

The brief meeting had left Hux feeling drained and hungry. He wanted to go home and see his cat. As he showed himself to the door, he held out his hand for another handshake.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ren.”

“Likewise.”

Neither of them wished to see the other ever again.

---

Hux waited one week before he went to visit Kylo Ren again.

Ren took a long time to come to the door, and when he finally did he was shirtless, his eyes half-lidded and his hair a messy raincloud on his head. Hux planted his gaze firmly on the other man’s face, lest it wandered elsewhere against his better judgment.

“Did you just wake up?”

Ren yawned and nodded.

“It’s almost one in the afternoon.”

“I was up doing a thing. Slept late.”

He moved aside to let Hux enter, but Hux didn’t budge. He couldn’t bear the thought of spending yet another stressful and fruitless afternoon in Ren’s stuffy flat.

“I was thinking we could go out for lunch today actually. Get to know each other better, so that we might experience less… creative differences.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “You want to go for lunch? With me?”

“Yes.” Was it honestly such a strange request? “I’ll pay.”

His response was instantaneous. “Give me ten minutes.”

As Ren ducked into the bathroom to take a quick shower, Hux’s curiosity got the better of him, and he stepped into the flat to try and find the piece that Ren had been working on. His eyes were once again drawn to the imposing black helmet on the coffee table, and he noticed that it was now joined by a small round sculpture as well. The sculpture was covered in grooves and markings, with a circular indentation at the top. The tag under the base identified it as ‘The Death Star’. Hux scoffed at the pretentious name.

Ren emerged from the bathroom and caught Hux staring at the little object.

“That’s actually my grandfather’s,” he said. “Darth Vader’s. I made it based on a drawing of his.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

The look of scandalised horror and disgust on Ren’s face was almost cartoonish, and Hux had to keep himself from laughing.

“You don’t know Darth Vader? The Darth Vader? The most famous shock artist of all time?”

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

Lunch was delayed for a full half-hour as Ren sat Hux down and proceeded to bore him with his grandfather’s entire life story. How he had been the only son of a poor housekeeper, how he had been fascinated by art and its ability to convey ideas and feelings and realities, and how he had been discovered by a prominent painter and taken under his wing as an apprentice. By the time Ren got to the part about Vader’s dramatic ‘defection’ to the ‘dark’ world of shock art, Hux’s stomach was growling and he wanted nothing more than to just leave.

“You are aware that shock art isn’t necessarily as edgy as all that, right? That it isn’t just people blending goldfishes or sticking crucifixes into piss?”

“Darth Vader’s art is banned in twelve countries. When he died, his fans wore black for a whole year. One time, he had a swordfight with someone on an erupting volcano, and his legs got cut off.”

Hux felt mildly unnerved by the way Ren’s eyes shone brightly, as well as the oddly proud quality in his voice. 

“And what exactly did he do that for?”  

“He did it for art, Hux. For art.”

Hux regarded him for a few seconds, before saying, “Do you like pasta?”

Ren’s cheeks slowly coloured, and he gave an embarrassed huff and started to shuffle towards the door.

“Right, lunch, yeah. Sorry about that, I tend to get carried away sometimes. Sorry, again.”

As they arrived at a café a couple of blocks away from Ren’s place, Hux contemplated his reasons for asking Ren out for lunch today. He had given the whole thing careful thought. It was imperative, he had decided, that the two of them first gain a clearer understanding of each other’s work ethics, personalities, and interests before beginning their collaboration proper. Without that, the project was as good as dead. And what better way to do so than in a casual, non-work setting?

After placing their orders, however, they relapsed into awkward silence. While lunch had been his idea, Hux found himself feeling strangely nervous. Ren stared at his feet, while Hux looked pointedly at everything but the man sitting in front of him. He blamed it on the way Ren’s long wet hair was sticking to his cheeks, which were red and flushed from walking around in the cold outside. It was a distracting sight and it made Hux think of things he didn’t want to think about.

To take his mind off it, he brought up the subject of Darth Vader again.

“So you really admire your grandfather, huh?”

“Well, duh, wouldn’t you? His work had such a huge impact on so many people, and it really made them think about things, you know? I’ve heard stories of people being moved to tears. Someone even fainted once.” Ren paused, and his face took on a wistful look. “That’s the kind of artist I want to be.”

And despite having known the other man for only one week, Hux found it to be just the kind of answer he expected of Kylo Ren.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “You’re the type to really throw your whole self into your art after all. Of course you’d want to see that kind of intensity, that sheer amount of emotional investment reflected in your audience as well. You’d want them to approach and understand your pieces the same way you do, and shock art is indeed a highly effective way to elicit such powerful responses.”

Ren’s eyes grew wide and his face turned the colour of his bolognaise pasta. It was honestly rather cute, and Hux wanted to take out his Leica and immortalise the moment, but he knew that that would sour the mood for the rest of the day, so he controlled himself.

“I’ve never actually thought of it that way, but now that you say it, it makes total sense. I mean I’ve always revered my grandfather and his work, but never really examined the… psychology behind it.” He appeared to suddenly become aware that he was blushing, and tried to hide it by hastily gulping his water. “You’re pretty smart.”

Years of being hailed as a ‘prodigy’ and a ‘gifted photographer’, of being constantly compared to his father, had made Hux almost sick of hearing such words of praise. Yet he found his ears reddening despite himself at Ren’s simple compliment. He was embarrassed by his own embarrassment, and tried to mask it with arrogance.

“Thank you. I did graduate from Harvard, you know.”

“Yeah, you do seem like a Harvard type of guy. Filthy rich. Perfectly gelled hair.” Ren raised an eyebrow. “Stick up his ass.”

Hux threw his napkin at him. “Dick.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer instead.”

That caused Hux to let out an uncivilised guffaw. “So you do have a sense of humour after all.”

“What, did you think I was just an antisocial, emo art kid?”

“Aren’t you?”

Ren chewed his meatball thoughtfully. Hux reluctantly added ‘lips’ to the slowly growing list of ‘distracting Kylo Ren things’.

“Yeah, I guess I am, but I’m funny sometimes.”

The rest of the lunch date went unexpectedly, but perfectly, smoothly. Ren learnt that Hux played three instruments (the piano, the violin, and the clarinet), met his father for dinner at Michelin-starred restaurants every two months, and slept with a nightlight (“It’s for my cat! She hates the dark. Stop laughing Ren!”). Hux learnt that Ren once challenged someone to a drinking contest and lost within five minutes, and that his diet mostly comprised instant noodles and banana bread from the nearby convenience store.

“Thank you for lunch,” said Ren, as they strolled back to his flat. “I feel like we really connected today.”

“Yes, I found it to be very enlightening as well. I never knew you had such strong opinions about Dali and early ‘80s sci-fi movies.”

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises,” Ren chuckled, and Hux smiled at the corniness of his statement.

“So, same time next week? We can attempt to work on the Snoke thing again, if you like.”

Ren stretched and said, “We can. Or we could order in pizza and just hang out the whole afternoon. I mean, we do still have an entire six months before the gallery officially opens. We have plenty of time.”

They parted ways at the ground floor of Ren’s building, but Hux stayed rooted to the spot until he saw the door of Ren’s flat slam shut. Then he turned around to hail a cab.

He was actually looking forward to next week.

---

In the end, they did both.

Hux sat cross-legged on the floor with a bottle of iced tea, having moved away the squadron of little white soldiers, while Ren scribbled notes and doodles onto a half-greasy napkin.

“So, the idea is,” Ren said, in between mouthfuls of ham and mushroom pizza. “We build a giant diorama of a coliseum, right? But instead of gladiators or lions, it’s children with swords, and they’re killing each other.”

That earned Ren a sceptical glance from Hux.

“And where exactly are you going with this?”

“The futility of trying to experience childhood joy in this day and age?”

“That is possibly the least subtle thing I’ve ever heard, Ren,” sighed Hux. “And how exactly would my photography fit into all this?”

Ren wordlessly reached for another slice of pizza. Hux noticed a very slight, but very obvious pout.

“I don’t hear you coming up with any bright ideas, gingerbread.”

It took only fifteen seconds for Hux to come up with an idea.

“If it were me, I would take a long shot of a child eating breakfast alone. The table is big and full of all kinds of cereal and juice and fruit, but the chairs are all empty. The colours of the room are subdued and cold – maybe shades of blue – but other than that, everything is neat and clean…”

He trailed off, suddenly sensing that something was off. Ren had gone quiet, his half-eaten slice hanging limp from his hand. His body was tensed up, like a frayed coil of wire, tightly wound and sparking, ready to spring at any moment. Glazed brown eyes stared blankly at nothing.

Growing up, Hux’s father had always emphasised discipline above all else. It was what characterised his work, and, several years down the road, what characterised Hux’s own work as well. He had long since learnt to keep his emotions in check, maintaining a calm and collected demeanour during even the most trying of situations. Panic was rare – even the lens cap incident with Millie had left him unfazed.

He knelt down next to Ren, and carefully placed a hand on his back.

“Ren.” No answer. “Kylo.”

Kylo’s breaths were heavy and ragged. Hux didn’t know very much about dissociation or panic attacks, let alone how to deal with them, but damn if he wasn’t going to help the other man somehow.

“Kylo,” he tried again. “Kylo, can you stand?”

Hux thought he saw a weak nod. He took Kylo by the shoulders and gently hoisted him from the floor. Kylo made no move to resist him or get away. Hux guided him to the bedroom and sat him on the bed, before taking a seat next to him. The mattress was thin and the bedding sparse, with only a single pillow and one blanket with a hole torn into it. Having no other alternative, Hux took the tattered blanket and wrapped it around Kylo.

Evidently he had stepped on a landmine with his talk of lonely children at breakfast, and he made a mental note to watch his words in the future. He may have been a cold person, but he certainly wasn’t insensitive. He sensed pressure on his right shoulder, and saw that Kylo was now leaning on it, though his eyes had the same faraway look.

It was strange, Hux mused, to see Kylo Ren in such a vulnerable state. He seemed so different from the intimidating man of two weeks ago, who had forcibly taken a stranger’s camera, and threatened him with a paintbrush. Now he simply resembled a child, and with a start, Hux realised that he barely knew anything about the man’s personal life. Everything – from his family to his age – was still a mystery. Not that he had expected to find it all out over a single lunch date.

He sat with Kylo on the bed for half an hour before he heard light snoring. Kylo had fallen asleep on Hux’s shoulder, one of his hands gripping the latter’s jacket, as if he was afraid of Hux running away and leaving him alone in the empty room.

So Hux remained there for another hour. He checked his phone, scrolled through newsfeeds and social media, played inane games. He watched the hundreds of videos he had of Millie. It was good, he told himself, to take a break every once in a while. To ignore all work-related things and just enjoy human company for an hour or two. Although his interactions with Kylo Ren were still, technically, work-related.

When he grew tired of his phone, he slowly eased Kylo’s head from his shoulder and onto the pillow. Kylo made a soft whining noise as Hux adjusted the blanket, but did not wake up. Once he was sure that Kylo was comfortable, Hux slipped out of the room and started to clean up the remnants of their lunch. He noted that they had at least made some progress with the Snoke project – anything to do with childhood abandonment was a no-go.

---

Kylo emerged from the room not long after, his hair looking like a bramble patch and the blanket still draped around him like a cape.

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty. How are you feeling?”

“Better, I guess.” He shuffled towards Hux and gave him an apologetic look, although he avoided Hux’s eyes. “Sorry about… all of that, just now.”

“No worries,” Hux replied smoothly. “I took the liberty of clearing everything up while you were asleep. There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re still hungry.”

Kylo mumbled something inaudible and folded himself onto the couch next to Hux. Hux now saw why Kylo usually sat on the floor – he was much too tall for the couch, and his long legs stuck out at odd angles when he tried to sit down. Hux wondered why Kylo didn’t just buy himself a better couch.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, if it’s too difficult,” said Hux. “I’m not the kind of person to pry into personal affairs.”

“No, it’s alright. I want to tell you,” Kylo’s voice had a softer edge to it than usual. “We are colleagues after all. It’s only right you know.

“When I was growing up, my parents weren’t around very much, so I was usually alone. It was mostly my Uncle Luke who raised me. He runs a painting class for little kids somewhere in town, so that’s how I got into art. My mother is a diplomat, an ambassador to the UN. I never saw her that much – she was always flying off to some far-off, exotic country or another. I mean I loved her, of course, and I knew that her work was important, but she was only ever home for birthdays, and Christmas, and New Year’s. And as for my father, well.” Kylo scoffed. “I barely even recognise his face. It was almost as if, without my mother there, he had no reason to stay in the house much. That’s why your idea just kinda… hits a little too close to home, y’know?”

“Yes, I see…” Hux patted his hand. “I apologise for bringing it up just now.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. And it’s all in the past anyway. These days, my parents are just a nuisance to me, nagging and saying that they don’t like my art or whatever. It’s why I moved out.”

Ah. That explained Kylo’s frugal lifestyle, as well as the pitiful state of his flat. The man was flat broke.

Before Hux could respond, however, his phone let out an obnoxious buzz.

“Shit, sorry, I need to take this,” he said, fumbling round in his jacket pocket for the accursed thing. “It’s probably work.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead!” Kylo hastily got up from the couch. “You must be busy. Sorry, again, for taking up your afternoon. I’ll see you next week then?”

Hux got up as well, albeit less enthusiastically. His phone continued to buzz, but he chose to ignore it.

“Yes, of course. Next week.” A mere seven days suddenly seemed an awfully long time to Hux. “I’ll see myself out then.”

He made his way to the door, stopped, and turned back around. Kylo was looking at him strangely.

“Take care of yourself, Kylo,” he heard himself say. “I’ll text you tonight.”

And then he was off, pounding down the stairs and angrily swiping the ‘Answer’ option on his phone.

---

Before Hux went to bed that night, he sent Kylo Ren a quick text.

‘Hi Ren,

I apologise for the suddenness of this, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet up with you the next couple of weeks. I’ve been commissioned (last minute, if I may add) to do a photo collection for an upcoming event, and that will, unfortunately, take up most of my time. I can, however, still correspond with you via text.

Yours, Hux’

Kylo’s reply was instant.

‘it’s cool, idm. also can u not text in such a formal way?? it’s like ur an old man lol’

Millie, who was curled up against Hux’s side on the bed, jumped in surprise at her owner’s sudden bark of laughter. Hux was a very quiet person at home – laughter was unusual.

‘I’m only 29, Ren.’

‘and i’m 25, which makes u an old man’

“Millie, don’t – Millie!”

Millie had climbed onto Hux and was now meowing and pawing at his phone, which, despite the nightlight, shone like a floodlight in the dim room. He gently peeled her off of him.

‘hfvdjfgjeghj’

‘sorry hux, i’m not as talented as u. i don’t speak alien’

Millie continued to meow plaintively as Hux hurried to correct the mistake.

‘Sorry, that was my cat, she likes playing with my phone. I’ll be turning in soon. Goodnight, Ren.’

‘sweet dreams ;)’

Hux took one full hour of tossing and turning to fall asleep, and he blamed it all on overthinking that damn ‘;)’.

His next week was spent entirely on work, and as much as he enjoyed his craft, he found himself feeling oddly lonely. For some reason, he found that he was probably missing Kylo Ren.

“Of course I’m not missing Kylo Ren,” Hux told himself, repeating it like a mantra as he freshened up in the morning. “I’m merely upset that our work has to be delayed because of this sudden other project. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with Ren himself.”

He spent his days wandering around the city, armed with at least two different cameras and a tripod slung over his shoulder. He would stay out from morning to evening, until he ran out of battery, or space, or both. In between shots, he texted Kylo.

‘what exactly is ur project about, anw??’

‘It’s for a charity campaign. Something about appreciating the little things in life. I suppose you’d find it terribly cliché and boring.’

‘i do’

Hux visited quaint cafés with chic interiors, and took photos of office ladies enjoying a quick lunch, and couples on dates sharing steaming mugs of coffee. He took many shots of children – in some, they played with skipping ropes or chalk along the pavements of housing estates, while their parents looked on and smiled in the background; in others, they carried comically large schoolbags, and held hands with each other as they crossed the street on their way to school. He took photos of men in suits waving at cabs, and he took photos of grandmothers in floral-print dresses buying baby clothes from department stores.

‘Well, at least no one has tried to steal my camera and delete my photos.’

‘and i suppose u didn’t punch anyone either. that would be terribly unprofessional, wouldn’t u say?’

‘I said I was sorry, Ren. And you were being a prick anyway.’

Hux spent his nights staying up late, editing the hundreds of shots he took during the day. The contrast, saturation, brightness, cropping, all of it had to come together as a neat, ordered whole, and that took time. Millie liked Hux’s laptop light as well, so whenever he sat in his dark studio, clicking away, she jumped up to join him on his worktable.

‘You never did say why you were so angry about me taking your photos. They were very good shots.’

This time, Kylo took a little longer to reply.

‘i just don’t like my face being seen. it adds to my Cool Enigmatic Artist image, along with my pseudonym. Darth Vader hid his face too, u know?’

Hux wanted to reply ‘You’re not cool, Ren’ but decided to keep it to himself. Instead he said:

‘Your name isn’t really ‘Kylo’?’

‘nah, but kylo fits me better than ben lol’

Hux adjusted the contrast in a photo of a young girl playing with a calico cat in the park. Millie pawed at the pixelated cat and meowed jealously.

‘You don’t look like a ‘Ben’.’

‘ikr’

On Friday, Hux decided to go out for lunch at a highly-rated Italian restaurant near his place. He took photos of patrons laughing, and waitresses gossiping with the chefs behind the counter. His phone buzzed just as his food arrived.

‘hey hux guess what, i got a new project as well!! so i guess i’ll be p busy this week too :(’

‘Congratulations.’

Hux took up his fork and twirled his pasta listlessly for a while, before he took a small bite. He thought it tasted rather bland, as if the chef had spent too much time toiling over the presentation and forgotten to add salt.

On Wednesday, Kylo actually called him up. Hux had been in the midst of showering, but he rushed out immediately to grab his phone, hastily wrapping a towel about his waist to keep from ruining the parquet floor.

“Hey Kylo, what’s up?”

“Hey Hux!” Kylo’s voice on the other end of the line was loud and energetic. Hux heard the distinctive screech of metal on metal in the background. “I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

“Sure, sure. Do you want me to come over now?”

The words were out of his mouth before he even fully formulated the thought, and Hux was ashamed at how desperate he sounded.

Kylo’s answer was muffled by the noise of his metalwork, and Hux had to ask him to repeat himself.

“I said, that’d be great! I was gonna ask you to help me with this piece I’m doing right now, but I guess it is better if you come over to see it in person. The flat’s pretty messy right now though.”

“That’s fine,” said Hux, already pulling on his pants while cradling his phone between his ear and his shoulder. “See you soon, Kylo.”

He thought he heard a smile in the other man’s voice when he replied, “See you soon too, gingerbread.”

---

Kylo had left his door unlocked, and Hux let himself in to see that the flat was, indeed, messier than usual.

All of his easels, paintings, and small white soldiers were now stacked in a pile in a corner, and covered with crinkly blue tarp. The coffee table and couch, along with the helmet and the little round ‘Death Star’, were pushed flush against the kitchen cabinet. The rest of the room was covered in an even bigger blue tarp, while Kylo stood in the centre of it all, working on yet another round sculpture. Wood and metal shavings covered the floor like glinting, shiny snow.

“Hello Kylo.” Hux kept close to the walls, careful not to get in the way of the other man’s work. “What did you need? I’m afraid I can’t stay too long though.”

Kylo stopped his work, and turned to give Hux a wide grin. Two thoughts crossed Hux’s mind: the first was “Oh shit, he looks cute with goggles.” The second was “Why the fuck did I just think that?”

“Hey Hux, long time no see.” He stood back to spread his arms and gesture proudly at the metallic object on his worktable. “What do you think?”

Hux didn’t know what it was meant to be, so he just said, “It looks like a big macaron plated in chrome.”

Kylo laughed. “It’s for the upcoming Darth Vader: Legacies tribute exhibition. You heard about it?”

“The name makes it sound like some sort of video game.”

“Ah, yeah, it’s a pretty underground thing – by the fans, for the fans, you know? Anyway, the organisers asked me to do a special piece for it since I’m his grandson and all.”

Kylo sounded endearingly proud about it, like a child who had been picked to represent his school in the nationals for the very first time.

“I’m more or less done with my piece, except I’m stuck on what to name it.” He waved a hand at the round object on his worktable. “That’s what I needed your help for.”

“What exactly is it meant to be?”

“It’s a planet that can harness the power of the sun to blow up other planets.”

Kylo looked dead serious when he said it, but Hux still had to take a few seconds to process the absolute absurdity of that statement. Hux must failed to hide his utter confusion, because Kylo hurried to explain.

“Okay, you know that Death Star I made a couple of weeks ago? It’s part of the series my grandfather was working on before he died, about war, but set in space. He created this entire persona and story to go with his work, and he wore this cool mask and outfit to all his exhibitions -”

Kylo paused when he saw that he was losing Hux. He coughed.

“Right, anyway. This new thing here is meant to be an addition to this series – it’s like a bigger and better version of the Death Star, but ‘Death Planet’ sounds pretty stupid. Any ideas on what to call it?”

The ‘planet’ that Kylo had built was several sizes larger than the small round ‘star’, with a glowing orange centre in the middle of a massive trench inlaid with hundreds of smaller blue lights. Fine, intricate patterns had been meticulously cut into it. Hux admitted that it did look pretty impressive.

“How about calling it ‘The Starkiller’?” He suggested. “Since it feeds off the sun.”

Kylo, who had been tinkering with the orange light, turned to Hux with large eyes.

“I knew it,” he said reverently. “You’re really smart. That name is fucking genius.”

Hux tried very, very hard not to blush, he really did. But he failed.

---

‘hey hux, when is that super saccharine photo event of urs again?’

It was three in the morning, and Hux was frantically editing the last of his photos. In the end, out of about two thousand, he had picked 150, and his eyes were swimming from the glaring light of his laptop screen. A couple of minutes earlier he had started to panic, thinking that all his shots had turned suddenly blurry, before realising that it was just his tired eyes playing tricks on him.

‘It’s the day after tomorrow. Why?’

‘idk, just thought of dropping by’

Hux clicked the ‘Save’ button. Then he clicked it three more times in quick succession, just to be sure.

‘It’s a charity event, Ren. You’d be drowning in positivity.’

‘but i get free food and the chance to see u ;)’

There was that ‘;)’ again. It was almost as if Kylo knew exactly what it did to Hux, and that he derived great joy from teasing him with it. The bastard.

‘Go to sleep Ren. It’s 3 in the damn morning.’

Hux didn’t sleep until four.

---

They had chosen to hold the charity event in the ballroom of a fancy hotel in the middle of town, where everything was bright and gleaming and expensive. Hux hovered near a table of exotic canapes, making small talk with glittering women and bearded men in bespoke suits. The walls of the ballroom were hung from end to end with his photos, some monochromatic, others bursting with colour. He had requested that the photo with the calico cat be bigger than the rest, and prominently displayed. The organisers had agreed to it, but they didn’t know that Hux’s reason for it was simply, “I love cats.”

Someone clinked a glass, and Hux strolled up to the dais onstage to deliver his speech. He wasn’t as invested in the cause of the charity as all that, but the organisers had asked, and he had had no reason to refuse. And anyway, he quite liked the sound of his own voice.

After five minutes of waxing lyrical about the joys of giving, Hux heard the ballroom door squeak softly open. A tall man slipped quietly into the room, and chose to stand at Hux’s recently vacated spot near the canape table. Hux felt his breath catch, and he faltered in his speech.

Kylo had shaved, and his normally unruly hair was combed and neatly swept back. He wore a sleek, navy blue suit with a silver tie, and he looked good. He looked damn good. Shit.

Hux barely knew what he said for the remainder of the speech, but he figured it must have been fairly commendable, because he received thunderous applause at the end of it. All he could focus on was Kylo, in the corner, his brown eyes never once leaving Hux’s face and that ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

Though Hux had tried to deny it for over a month, he found it exceedingly hard to do so now. He was in too deep. He had a fucking full-on crush on Kylo fucking Ren, and it was only getting stronger by the day.

Hux didn’t know how he made it down the stage without stumbling and falling, but he did. Kylo was still standing in the same spot, the same smirk on his face.

“I thought you wanted to keep your Cool Enigmatic Artist image.”

“It’s fine, nobody here knows who I am.” Kylo popped a canape into his mouth. “Nice photos, by the way. I like the cat one.”

“Thank you,” Hux drawled. “I worked very hard on them.”

It felt surreal, standing in a high-class hotel with Kylo Ren, chatting over posh finger food. Hux was used to hanging around with Kylo in the comfort of his untidy flat, snacking on junk food, and he found that he much preferred it that way.

“How did you even get in here?” Hux asked. “I thought this was invite-only.”

“Eh, I snuck in,” said Kylo, as if it was no big deal. “Even rented a suit for it.”

Well, there went all of Hux’s private fantasies of Kylo in the suit.

“That’s a shame. You look pretty nice in it.”

Dammit. Hux made a mental note to better control his words. He’d be in very big trouble if he said every embarrassing thing that came to mind. Kylo simply laughed though.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, gingerbread.”

His look suddenly turned serious, and his voice dropped its teasing edge.

“And I do mean it when I say your photos are nice. They’re very…you. The framing, the colours, the focus, they all just scream Hux to me. Perfectly ordered and tidy, but brimming with vibrancy all the same.” He gave Hux a genuine smile, instead of his usual smirk. “I can see why Snoke wanted me to learn from you. You’re really good at what you do.”

Hux felt himself flush. To hide it, he picked up two glasses of champagne from the table and offered one to Kylo.

“Cheers, Kylo.” Hux hoped Kylo could not detect the giddy joy in his voice. “And thank you.”

Kylo gave Hux’s glass a light clink.

“Cheers, Hux.”

---

Brendol Hux Sr. had a predilection for the sashimi served in the top-floor fine dining establishment of a certain hotel. The younger Hux often suggested that a regular restaurant, or even a home-cooked meal, would have sufficed just as well. But Hux Sr. would accept no less – men of their calibre, he believed, deserved only the best.

Kylo had texted him earlier in the day, inviting him to come over for the opening of the Darth Vader exhibition, which was being held at a warehouse near Kylo’s place. Hux had wanted to go, and would have given anything to be there when Kylo unveiled ‘The Starkiller’, the labour of love he had worked so hard on. But Hux Sr. had called him for their bimonthly dinner, and Hux had had no choice but to obey. Still, he felt immensely guilty for not going to Kylo’s event, especially since the latter had gone out of his way to go to his.

“Something on your mind?” Hux Sr. enquired, seeing that his son was more restless than usual.

“Nothing’s the matter, Father, but thank you for asking.” Had it already started? How many people were there? Was Kylo happy?

Hux Sr. fixed him with a stern look, but said nothing. Hux may have been close to thirty, but he was still his son, and the older man knew him very well. If Hux had chosen to keep silent about something, there was usually good reason for it, and he had the decency not to pry. He took a bite of sushi, and decided to change the subject.

“I saw your work at that charity event last week.”

Hux’s head shot up. His father was usually more interested in his own work than in his son’s. He tried to affect a casual tone as he asked, “How did you find it?”

“It was satisfactory. However, it could still be a lot better, especially for a man of your standard. For instance, too many of your shots were a shade too saturated, while you also could have…”

Hux let his father drone on as he picked at his food. The man was a bigger perfectionist than Hux himself, and he always managed to find fault with even the slightest things. Then again, that obsession with creating impossibly flawless pieces was probably what made Brendol Hux Sr. such a sought-after photographer. 

Hux’s dinners with his father tended to last several long hours, because they would always stay back to drink once their food was finished. At around half-past ten, when the pair were well into their third bottle of sake, Hux’s phone buzzed.                                                                                                       

He tried to ignore it – it would be rude to answer it in the middle of conversation with his father. But it continued to vibrate, so loudly and incessantly, that Hux Sr. exasperatedly demanded that he “pick up the damn thing and shut it up.”

Hux had eight missed calls and twenty texts. They were all from Kylo, because of course they were.

Yes, Brendol Hux Sr. knew his son very, very well, especially since the latter had never been all too skilled at hiding his thoughts and feelings. When he saw pure panic and desperate concern flash across the younger man’s face, he knew that dinner would have to be cut short for the night.

“Is it important?” He asked gruffly.

“I – I don’t know, I need to –” Hux stumbled over his words, trying to text and answer his father at the same time. Hux Sr. held up a hand to stop him.

“Go on your way then.” He gave him an understanding look. “I’ll see you in May.”

Hux was stunned, completely unused to such generosity coming from his father. Then he collected his thoughts and stood up quickly.

“Thank you, father.” He pronounced. “I’ll be going then.”

No more than five minutes later, he was in a taxi cab headed to Kylo’s place.

---

If one charted the state of disarray of Kylo Ren’s flat, one would find that it increased exponentially every time Hux paid a visit. Right now, it looked to Hux more like the site of a vicious brawl than a house that someone lived in.

The couch had been upended, as had the coffee table, although that was now flung into the opposite end of the living room. Easels and paint cans laid, sad and broken, in pools of colourful and sticky blood. The wallpaper, which had already been peeling, was now ripped off almost completely. In several many places, the walls had been brutally punched in, leaving gaping, ragged holes. Torn strips of blue tarp littered the ground.

Only a handful of Kylo’s pieces remained intact – the helmet, ‘The Death Star’, ‘The Starkiller’, and a couple of the little white soldiers, though their uniforms were flecked with paint.

In the centre of the room, sitting calmly on the floor amidst the wreckage surrounding him, was Kylo. He was carrying what looked like a sword. Knowing Kylo, it probably was a sword.

“Hey Hux,” he said, when Hux moved closer to him. “Sorry for blowing up your phone and making you rush all the way here in the middle of dinner. Also, I didn’t kill anyone, in case you were wondering. That’s a good thing.”

Hux carefully cleared a space on the debris-strewn floor and sat next to Kylo. Up close, he could see that Kylo was soaked in sweat, and panting heavily. He was gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly, Hux could just make out the shape of his veins.

“Did you do this?”

“Yeah. I had to, uh, let off some steam.” He gave a weak, choked laugh. “It’s always messy whenever you come over, huh?”

Hux shifted closer to Kylo, and gently took the latter’s hands in his. They trembled slightly, and felt like ice. The sword Kylo had been holding in a death grip slid to the floor with a clang.

“Kylo.” Hux fixed him with a firm gaze, but Kylo’s eyes had a glassy quality and he didn’t look back. “Kylo, what exactly happened?”

Kylo was silent for a long time, before he took a deep breath and answered.

“The cops, they – someone called the cops on us, said we were fucking promoting – promoting genocide or some shit – that we were holding an illegal gathering and that we were being a threat and all so – so halfway through they came and they broke it all up. Just – just scattered everyone. Arrested some of them too. I was ready to fucking fight them but someone pulled me away and now, now I’m back here.”

He raised his head, and finally met Hux’s eyes.

“With you. Thank you… for coming.”

Hux couldn’t take it anymore. All his usual eloquence was gone from him, and he found that the only thing he wanted to do was hold Kylo, hold him tight, and never let go. He wrapped his arms around Kylo, pulling him close, burying his face into the other man’s hair and breathing in his scent. Kylo was shaking – whether with rage or grief or both, Hux did not know.

“I should have expected this from the start,” he mumbled, against Hux’s chest. “My grandfather’s work has always been controversial, especially this particular series. It’s why my parents never really approved of – approved of me idolising him so much. After all, the whole thing’s about an empire blowing up whole planets and ruling the galaxy, and back in the 60’s, this kind of stuff was serious business. They thought he was actually promoting – actually promoting genocidal actions. I mean, he’d go to all of the exhibitions dressed as a masked cyborg, with a cape and an actual sword, and people were terrified. One time, he got so into his persona he choked a critic on live television.”

Kylo huffed out a laugh, and Hux’s chest grew warm.

“But today’s exhibition was really just a gathering for fans, it’s not like we were gonna go out and commit mass murder. And after seeing you at the hotel last week, I wanted it to be good, wanted to make something of myself so that I could one day – one day stand on the same stage as you.” Kylo sighed deeply and leaned into the hug. “So I was just angry and disappointed, and I took it out on my living room. If you hadn’t come, I’d probably have trashed the bedroom and the bathroom as well.”

They remained like that, draped about each other, for a long time, until Kylo finally peeled himself away. Hux felt suddenly and painfully empty. Kylo slowly rose to his feet, though he still looked unsteady, and started to lift the fallen couch.

“I’d better start cleaning this up,” he said. “The landlord’s gonna be pissed when he sees the state of the flat.”

“I’ll help you.” Hux’s voice had finally returned to him, and now all the words he had wanted to say earlier spilled out of him. “Also, you can come crash at my place tonight. Your flat is hardly in a liveable state right now, and I have a spare room that you can use. In fact, you can even move in if you’d like, although of course the decision is entirely up to you. It’s just that it would be a much more convenient arrangement, given that we do still have a project that we need to work on.”

Kylo, who was in the midst of dealing with a badly-damaged easel, stopped to give Hux a weak but playful smile. Hux felt infinitely relieved to see that some of his old self had returned.

“If you’re lonely, Hux, you can just say so.”

“I am being serious here, Kylo,” Hux quipped back, though he could not help but return the smile.

“Well, I’m not entirely averse to your offer,” Kylo said, leaning against the easel. Hux noted that he was now much better than before, much more alive. “But it’ll probably be very hard to get rid of me once I’m there.”

“Are you doubting me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Hux grinned and lightly smacked him on the shoulder before moving to clean another part of the room.

“Well, finish cleaning and pack your things then. I’ll call for a cab.”

---

At first, Millie was extremely distrustful about the new friend Hux brought home. She liked having Hux, as well as both floors of the penthouse, all to herself, and when Kylo first stepped through the door, she hissed at him and tried to stab his shoes with her claws, sensing a contender for Hux’s affections.

“Millicent, no. Stop that,” Hux commanded, pulling her off of Kylo.

“You named your cat Millicent?”

“What of it? It’s a perfectly good name.”

Millie gave Kylo another hostile meow before running back into Hux’s room and jumping on the bed.

“Don’t worry about Millie, she’ll warm up to you eventually. You can put your things down in that room over there and make yourself at home. The bathroom’s at the end of the corridor. If you need anything else, just come find me upstairs.”

Kylo deposited his duffel bag in the room that Hux had indicated and started to unpack, while Hux went up to take a shower and change into his pyjamas. It was now just past midnight, and though Hux rarely went to bed that early (the earliest time was probably one in the morning), he was incredibly tired. The fact that Kylo Ren was now temporarily staying with him only made it worse – although he knew that it was his own fault, having invited him. Damn this stupid crush.

Millie had fallen asleep on his pillow, and he heard Kylo pottering about downstairs. Was he okay? Did he need any help? Maybe he should go down and –

No. Hux halted that particular train of thought in its tracks. No, he would go to sleep, dammit. Kylo was a grown man – he’d be perfectly alright. Hux refused to let his senseless crush on Kylo fucking Ren rule his life, but he knew that he was steadily failing in the endeavour. Still, there was no harm in trying to curb the damn thing.

A sudden intrusive thought popped into his head.

Kylo Ren sleeps shirtless.

It was like the ‘;)’ debacle all over again, and Hux couldn’t sleep until well past 1am.

The next morning, Kylo left to collect the remainder of his things from his old flat. Hux volunteered to help pay the remainder of Kylo’s rent, along with the cost of the repairs that the flat would need to go through.

“Are you sure?” Kylo asked, eyeing the wad of cash doubtfully. “I don’t know when I can pay you back.”

“It’s fine.” Hux waved him off. “In return, just promise not to make me regret ever inviting you into my house.”

Kylo’s only answer to that was a sly grin. He returned two hours later, carrying a bag overflowing with art supplies and tools, and a cardboard box containing the sculptures and models he managed to salvage.

Hux was surprised at the sheer amount of things that Kylo brought back with him. He hadn’t thought the cramped little flat even had that many items. He peered over with concern as Kylo started to unload brushes, paints, chisels, and a drill onto his bed. He had even brought the sword, which Hux assumed belonged to his grandfather. The spare room wasn’t very big, and at this rate, Kylo would barely have any space left to sleep.

“I could clear out some drawers in my room,” Hux offered. “You could put some of your stuff there if you want, give yourself more space.”

“Thanks Hux.” Kylo took out his ‘self-portrait’ helmet and placed it in a corner, where it landed on the wood with a dull, heavy thunk. ‘The Death Star’ and ‘The Starkiller’ soon followed, three dark imposing shapes all lined up on the floor.

“If you don’t mind, though,” Kylo continued, nonchalantly. “I was thinking of converting this room into my workroom. I don’t think you’d want me painting or doing woodwork out in your living room, given how pristine you keep everything.”

“And where would you sleep?”

“In your room, of course.” Kylo’s response was immediate, and not without a hint of mischief in his voice. “Unless you’d prefer me to sleep on the couch.”

Hux was loathe to admit it, but Kylo’s suggestion did make a lot of sense, and was, all emotions aside, a perfectly sound and good idea. At the same time, it was also an absolutely horrifying idea. Hux thought it was a truly annoying paradox. Much, he added, like Kylo Ren himself. After a brief internal struggle, during which Hux kept his countenance impeccably passive, his resolve faltered and his (thrice-damned, infuriating, what had he done to deserve this?) crush won out.

“Sure,” he said smoothly. “I’ll help move your belongings upstairs.”

---

It wasn’t too difficult to clear out the guestroom and turn it into a well-equipped, fully-functioning workroom. Hux easily sold off the bed and the wardrobe, replacing them with a workbench and several shelves to hold all of Kylo’s paints and tools. He bought a fresh batch of easels (ensuring that they were sturdier than Kylo’s old ones) and stacked them in a corner, while the rest of Kylo’s little models and sculptures were spread out all across the floor. Kylo spent most of his time in the little room, working on small projects or smoking out the window (because Hux would kill him if he did it inside the house).

His first week in Hux’s house, Kylo decided to modify ‘The Starkiller’ as his maiden project in the new studio. The round model had gotten damaged amidst the chaos of the Darth Vader exhibition, and Kylo decided to hide the badly-dented portion by mounting the thing on a little spinning dais. At first, it spun slowly on Hux’s coffee table like a cheerful orange strobe light. Millie immediately took a liking to the thing, and at night she had fun chasing the light around the house when the rest of the living room was dark. After an unfortunate incident involving a broken vase, however, ‘The Starkiller’ had to be relocated back into Kylo’s workroom.

His second week in Hux’s house, Kylo decided to decorate his new home (“Seriously, Hux, there is a limit to how minimalist a house can be.”). Millie had taken ‘The Starkiller’ to be a peace offering, and on warm and sleepy afternoons, she joined Kylo in his workroom and dozed on one of the lower shelves. Kylo, in turn, would sketch and paint her sleeping form, experimenting with various styles. At the end of the week, he presented Hux with four different paintings of his cat to hang on the empty walls of the house. Hux obliged – he took it as payment for allowing Kylo to live in his house.

Hux didn’t make Kylo cough up any actual rent. He was aware of the man’s financial situation after all, and it wasn’t as if Hux was unable to afford funding Kylo’s work. Still, Kylo felt bad about it all, and vowed to make it up to Hux in whatever way he could. One of those ways just happened to be redecoration. Another was to help with household chores, like taking out the trash and making the bed, because he was always the last one to wake.

Initially, Hux had been incredibly awkward when it came to sharing the bed. He had carefully arranged himself as close to the side as possible, ensuring that he remained as far away as he could from the other man. Kylo, on the other hand, simply threw his half-naked self onto the bed and promptly fell asleep. When Hux woke up four hours later, he found that all his efforts were for naught, because Kylo’s arm was splayed over his chest, his leg was draped over Hux’s own, and Millie’s tail had somehow found its way onto his face. Kylo was a heavy sleeper, and he was still snoring long after Hux had pried himself loose and left the room. After that, Hux gave up entirely, and gradually got used to sleeping on the same bed as his (maddening, absolutely unnecessary) crush.

Most days, Kylo woke up at noon, and he’d shuffle blearily out of the bedroom to eat with Hux. Hux always prepared two portions of food, along with a mug of coffee for Kylo, and over lunch they would chat and joke around with each other. Sometimes they tried to talk about their project for Snoke, due in about three months, but they still found it difficult to agree on what to do. Mostly, they talked about food, about parents, and about Millie. Once the meal was done, Hux would leave with his cameras and his tripod, and Kylo would hang out with Millie in his workroom.

On the third week, Hux fell spectacularly sick. He had come back one evening soaked to the skin, and the next day he could hardly get out of bed.

“What exactly did you do yesterday?” Kylo asked, coming into the room with a bowl of warm chicken soup.

Hux’s answer was muffled as he lay shivering and sniffling under several woollen blankets.

“Was taking a shot in the rain. Waterproof camera. Didn’t have a raincoat or anything on me.”

“You don’t carry an umbrella?”

Hux somehow managed a glare despite his miserable state.

“I can hardly hold my camera properly if one hand is occupied with a damn umbrella, Kylo. And even if I could, it’s still much too troublesome.”

Kylo scoffed at that, seating himself on the edge of the bed next to Hux. He held out the bowl of soup.

“Still, you should take better care of yourself.”

“I definitely do not want to hear that coming from you of all people.”

That earned him a laugh.

As Hux sat up to eat, he realised it was the first time that Kylo had ever prepared a meal for him. Usually, it was Hux who would cook lunch and dinner for the both of them, and in turn, all Kylo did was wash the dishes. He mentioned this to Kylo, who suddenly looked extremely self-conscious.

“I’m used to cooking instant noodles, Hux, so if it’s bad or tasteless you don’t need to force yourself. I don’t want you to get even sicker because of me.”

“No, no, it’s good.” Hux took a sip of the soup. It was pretty good, and Hux was suddenly hit by the realisation of just how terribly domestic the whole scene was – him, lying sick in bed, while his concerned lover friend brought him a steaming bowl of food to make him feel better. Outside, the rain from the previous day had not stopped, and it pattered noisily against the window. The whole thing felt almost dreamlike.

Millie meowed and trotted into the room. It was her lunchtime, and Hux hadn’t had the chance to feed her yet. He started to get up, but Kylo gently pushed him back onto the bed.

“I’ll do it. You just sit there and rest.”

Hux watched Kylo and Millie leave the room, the cat eagerly winding herself about his legs. The rain continued to pour, and the soup filled the room with a delicious and comforting scent.

Yes, the whole thing was unapologetically domestic. And Hux realised that he quite liked it like that.

---

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“I can’t lie there forever, Kylo. I’ll die.”

It hadn’t been easy, but Hux had managed to successfully crawl out of bed and into his studio, where he now sat hunched in front of his laptop, working on his shots from the previous day. Kylo leant against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Even so, you don’t need to get back to work immediately,” Kylo protested. “Just take a day off. You’re your own boss, anyway.”

“If I don’t do this now,” Hux sniffed back, continuing to click away. “I’ll lose my inspiration, and these shots will end up rotting away somewhere, never to be seen again.”

Kylo started to speak again, but Hux shushed him.

“Look, Kylo, I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m –” Hux gave a violent sneeze. “– Not like I’m pushing myself or anything.”

Kylo gave Hux a sceptical look, before settling down on the floor near the door. He pulled out his phone and started to fiddle with it. It was now Hux’s turn to squint at him.

“And what exactly are you doing?”

“I’m sitting here in case you die or something and I need to drag your corpse back to the bed.”

“Kylo, I have a cold, not a terminal illness.”

“For a lightweight like you, it might as well be.”

Hux sighed and decided to ignore him. He had work to do, and it was true that if he waited any longer, his muse would leave him. Kylo continued tapping away at his phone, but other than that, he too kept silent, leaving Hux to his work.

After about ten minutes, however, Kylo got up and rested his chin on Hux’s head, causing the smaller man to jump in surprise.

“What are you working on so diligently anyway?” He drawled.

“The shot that made me fall sick.” Hux didn’t like how hyperaware of his head he suddenly became.

On Hux’s laptop screen, a young couple ran down the street, sharing a single umbrella. The strong wind caused it to flip inside out, and one of them was frantically keeping it from flying away. Most of the shot, including the buildings and the couple’s clothes, was a subdued shade of bluish-black, while the umbrella stood out, a bright and blinding red colour amidst everything else. The rain in the background gave the shot a slightly blurry quality overall.

“It’s nice,” said Kylo.

“Thank you.”

Kylo continued to stare at it for a while, before slipping out of the room. He returned shortly after with his sketchbook and some pencils, and flopped back to his space on the floor. The rest of the evening passed relatively quietly – Kylo scratching away on his sketchbook, and Hux adjusting the lighting, contrast, and colour of his photos. Kylo was the quietest Hux had ever seen him, but not in a bad way. Instead, he thought he looked rather peaceful, lips twitching into a smile as he drew. At one point, he looked up and met Hux’s eyes, to which he quickly ducked his head back down and sketched furiously. Hux could see he was embarrassed – his face and ears were bright red. It was endearing, and Hux smiled and continued his work.

The next day, Hux felt well enough to prepare lunch again. Kylo protested, of course, but Hux glared him down and defiantly resumed stirring his pot of noodles, and Kylo was powerless to stop him. He ate in sulky silence, after which he retreated to his workroom and stayed there for the better part of the afternoon.

Hux was mostly satisfied with the shots he had taken the previous day, so he spent his time lying on the couch with Millie, flipping through a book. The house was pleasantly quiet – Kylo wasn’t carrying out any loud hammering or deafening drilling from his room, while Millie had fallen asleep on his stomach. Hux had left the balcony window open, letting in a calm breeze from the outside and keeping the house cool. Kylo did have a point, he admitted to himself – sometimes it was nice to take a break from work. Although Hux made sure to finish it all beforehand before letting himself relax.

Over the past few weeks, Hux had grown accustomed to having Kylo in the house. It was almost as if he had lived there his whole life – eating meals with Hux, sharing his bed – and Hux found it hard to imagine not having him around. The past four years, back when his only housemate was Millie, now seemed sad and lonely in comparison. That’s the problem with big houses, he mused. There’s always too much empty space, no matter what you do. But then Kylo had come and he had filled that space, had annoyed and amused his way into Hux’s every available nook and cranny, until he became a firm and unmoveable fixture in Hux’s life. All in the space of three short months.

Hux chuckled to himself, causing Millie to wake up. She yawned and stretched, then hopped off the couch and walked to the closed door of Kylo’s workroom.

“Do you want to visit him, Millie?” Hux realised it was high time he got off the couch as well, having lain there for a good two hours, and he went over to join his cat. Millie was pawing and scratching at Kylo’s door, eager to get in.

Hux knocked on the door.

“Kylo?” He called. “Are you busy? Millie wants to hang out with you.”

Something fell over inside the room, and Hux heard muffled swearing. He pushed open the door to see Kylo bending to pick up his stool, although he quickly straightened and desperately tried to cover his painting when he saw Hux at the door. Millie bolted in and started nuzzling Kylo’s leg.

“I didn’t say you could come in yet,” he said, sounding miffed. “Also can you knock next time, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I did knock,” Hux retorted, coming in to stand next to Millie. “You just didn’t hear me. And why are you hiding your work?”

“I’m not hiding anything Hux,” lied Kylo. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m obviously talking about that painting you’re trying to prevent me from seeing.”

Any other time, Hux would have simply left it at that. But Kylo’s laughable attempts to hide it from Hux only made him all the more curious to see just what it was. He tried to pry Kylo away so he could get a better look, but Kylo grabbed his shoulders and held him back. Hux wasn’t giving up – he batted Kylo’s arms away and tried to peer behind him.

“It’s a work in progress, you really shouldn’t see it yet.”

“Come on Kylo, it can’t be that bad. It’s not like you drew an embarrassing picture of me or any – oh.”

Despite Kylo’s best efforts, Hux had manged to sneak a peek at Kylo’s painting, and he saw that it was, indeed, a picture of him. At least, that was what it looked like – in the painting, a redheaded man sat in a dark room, in a near-perfect rendition of the scene from the previous day. Bright streaks of red light, pouring from the screen of a laptop, illuminated and highlighted the lone figure, while all around him his equipment and furniture remained swathed in a dull and muted shade of blue.

“That’s…me, isn’t it? From yesterday.”

The whole thing came as such a surprise that Hux didn’t quite know how to react. He had never imagined himself as the subject of a painting, let alone a painting of Kylo Ren’s. The man was fond of wild and abstract art, and sculpted planet-destroying weapons for fun – it was hard for Hux to think of himself as being on the same level as all that, or that Kylo even viewed him as such. Kylo, on the other hand, refused to meet Hux’s eyes, choosing instead to clamp his mouth shut and stare at Millie, who was twining herself about his legs. He had started to blush furiously again. 

“I’m very flattered, Kylo,” Hux said eventually, breaking the awkward silence. “Thank you. I see you even imitated the colour scheme of my umbrella photo from last night.”

At that, Kylo finally lifted his head. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet, looking like an embarrassed teenager.

“Well, that’s just the thing, isn’t it?” He mumbled, forcing the words out of his mouth.

“What is?”

“That you inspire me.” Kylo’s face was an open book, eyes bright and wide as he looked into Hux’s own. “Your dedication, your skill, all of it. All of you. You make me want to make art, to create something that’s as good as – or even half as good as something of yours. And that’s why – that’s why I – that’s why I like you.”

As he spoke, he appeared to gradually lose his nerve, such that his voice grew progressively softer and he started to trip over his words. His last three words came out as a stuttered whisper.

But Hux caught it.

“Was that a… did you just confess to me?” Hux tentatively allowed himself to get his hopes up.

Kylo looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, or hide his burning face inside his ‘self-portrait’ helmet and never come back out. He opted to squat down and hug Millie instead, burying his face into her fluffy orange fur. She meowed and struggled to get away.

“I don’t want to repeat it Hux,” he said, voice muffled and whiny. 

Hux stooped to Kylo’s level and brushed aside the matted mane of dark and ginger hair that covered Kylo’s face. It was beet red.

“Come on, Kylo. Look at me.”

Kylo shook his head and twisted away. “Shut up Hux, this is all your fault. You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

“Then how was this supposed to play out?”

Kylo peeked over the top of Millie’s head, and Hux guessed that he was pouting.

“Well, I’d kiss you in front of all the cameras during the grand opening of Snoke’s gallery and then we’d come home and have wild, celebratory sex. Or something like that. Either way, it’d be a lot cooler than the current situation. I mean, god, Hux, I’ve been flirting with you for months now, so all of this right now –” He gestured around him. “All of this is just embarrassing and anticlimactic, so thanks a lot, you fucking je–”

Hux stopped Kylo’s rambling by leaning forward and pressing his lips to his. He tasted like coffee and ash and something else – something colourful, like buckets of paint flung onto a black canvas and giving it life. Kylo gave a yelp of surprise, but then he opened his mouth a fraction wider and returned all his kiss. Millie, who knew when she was in the way, hopped off and allowed the two to move closer together.

When Hux finally pulled away, Kylo said, “That better not have been out of pity for me.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Hux laughed and gently bumped his forehead against Kylo’s. “I did it because I wanted to.”

Kylo quirked a smile and pressed forward against the touch, hands reaching up to trace the line of Hux’s cheekbone and cup his chin. “What a coincidence,” he said, and he was back to his usual self, filled once again with fire and mischief and what Hux now recognised as affection. “We want the same thing.”

Then he tangled his hands in Hux’s hair and pulled him in for another deep kiss.

---

When Hux woke up, he found that he was back on his bed (which was, much to his chagrin, in a terrible state of disarray). Kylo was splayed at his side, his right arm thrown across Hux’s stomach in a manner that was simultaneously lazy yet possessive. The light of the setting sun streamed through the curtains and fell in slats across Kylo’s body, illuminating a cloud of dust motes that danced over him in a merry grey-orange halo.

Slowly, Hux eased his arm free from where it was trapped under Kylo, and reached for the Nikon he kept in the drawer of the bedside table. This was a good Moment. He angled himself and snapped a shot.

At the click of the camera, Kylo twitched and stirred. He sat up, blinked blearily at Hux, and squinted.

“Did you just take a photo of me?” His voice was drowsy with sleep.

“It’s to replace those first ones I took of you.” Hux gave him a pointed stare. “The ones you deleted.”

Kylo groaned and flopped back down onto the pillow.

“That was ages ago Hux, I thought you’d forget about it after you punched me. Are you really still mad about that?”

“Only a little bit,” Hux admitted. “But the fact remains that you deleted my work.”

Kylo at least had the decency to look sheepish about it, and he covered his face with Hux’s pillow. “Look,” he said. “I won’t delete these ones, okay? Just don’t… spread them around or anything. It’s true what I said about how I don’t want my face to be seen.”

Hux put the camera back on the table and dropped back down, tucking his head into the crook of Kylo’s neck.

“Obviously I won’t do that. The sleeping face of my lover –” Hux relished the taste of that word on his tongue, and he felt Kylo tense up below him. “– is something for me to see alone, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t fair for you to say these kinds of things, Hux,” complained Kylo. “Not after I’ve been pining after you for so fucking long –”

“I could say the same thing. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to hide this crush from you?” 

“Well, you don’t need to anymore, do you? I know everything now.” He reached over and ran a hand down Hux’s torso. “Seen everything.”

“God, you’re insufferable.” Hux swatted his hand away and rolled off of him. He picked up his shirt from where it lay discarded on the floor, flung there hours earlier in a passionate frenzy, and put it back on. “I need to start making dinner soon. Come help out when you’re fully awake.”

Kylo let out a soft “mm” in reply and buried his face deeper into Hux’s pillow. “Five more minutes.”

The moment Hux opened the bedroom door, Millie bounded in and jumped onto the bed. She padded about the spot Hux had recently occupied and then settled down, enjoying the warmth and nuzzling into Kylo’s side. Absently, he stroked her fur.

“I told you she’d come to like you,” Hux commented, half out the door. “She was probably just jealous of you when you first came here.”

“Well, she has every right to be,” Kylo replied sleepily. “She loves you, and I love you too.”

He sounded so casual about it, as if he was simply describing the weather, and Hux felt himself blush. He tried to hide it behind a sarcastic remark.

“What was that about me saying ‘those kinds of things’ then?”

“That’s a different thing altogether, gingerbread. You’ve mentioned it before – I’m a lot more expressive than you, whereas you’re…well, you’re you. Hearing you call me your lov – call me yours is almost inconceivable. Like something out of a horribly out-of-character dream.”

“It’s not that out-of-character, is it?” Hux huffed, propping himself against the doorframe. “I’m sure I’m not such an emotionless robot as you make me out to be.”

Kylo finally sat up and furrowed his brows, actually giving it some thought. Millie meowed in protest at the sudden loss of contact.

“Well, I guess there are times when your repertoire of facial expressions extends beyond your usual disdainful scowl…” Hux threw him a disdainful scowl. “But those times are few and far between.”

“Kylo, I assure you I was far from expressionless during the past hour or so when we were having sex.”

“I mean, other than that.” It was now Kylo’s turn to flush crimson. “I know you smile when you’re working, for example. When you’re in the midst of choosing and editing a shot, your eyebrows kinda draw together and you chew your lip. You also tend to lean way too close to your laptop screen.”

He bent forward and rested his hands on Millie as if she were a keyboard, imitating Hux’s pose. Hux scoffed.

“But then once you’re done and satisfied with a shot, you sit back and your entire face just lights up. You’ll have this big wide grin, like you’re mentally patting yourself on the back.”

Hux shifted awkwardly. “Well, that is exactly what I’m doing. When did you even notice all this?”

“Yesterday. I was sketching you, remember? And I’m an artist, Hux – it’s my job to notice things. I could probably do an entire range of sculptures based on you and your many little mannerisms. For instance, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when you s –”

“Wait.” Hux had left the door to join Kylo back on the bed. He was deep in thought. “That’s not actually such a bad idea.”

Kylo blinked. “Hux. I knew you had quite the ego from the moment I saw you, but this is really something else.”

“You know I don’t mean that.” Hux gave him a light smack. “I’m referring to our project for Snoke. We’ve still got absolutely no idea what to do, but this could be it.”

He now had Kylo’s full attention. Despite appearing flippant and relaxed, the man was always serious when it came to work. “I’m listening.”

“I was thinking that we could do a piece about the creation of art. The process that artists go through to produce their work.”

“The portrait of an artist,” Kylo supplied, realising where Hux was going with this.

“Right.” It felt surreal for the two of them to actually be in agreement about their work, but at the same time it was also oddly refreshing. After all they had been through, they were finally on the same page. “A mixed media piece?”

“Of course.” Kylo’s reply was immediate. “Your photos and my… everything else. I really could just make lots of sculptures of you, you know? Or paint you.”

“Only if you let me take photos of you as well,” Hux quipped back. “Without your face of course.”

Kylo mulled over this silently, before letting out a reluctant “Fine.”

“But,” he continued. “That means I’ll need to leave out your face as well. It’ll feel unbalanced otherwise.”

“Well, leave it out then.”

Kylo gave Hux a petulant frown. “I like your face, though. I don’t really want to leave it out.”

“I like it too Kylo.” Hux regarded him with mock sympathy. “But in life, certain sacrifices have to be made.”

Kylo shot him a dirty look. “That was cheesy and I hate you.”

Hux returned him a smirk and swept out of the door.

“I know.”

---

Now that an idea had firmly taken root, they talked about it endlessly. Kylo would have preferred to just rush headlong into the whole thing and let his feelings guide him, but Hux insisted that they first come up with a fully-formed plan before starting anything at all.  

So while Hux clattered about the kitchen, chopping cloves of garlic, Kylo stood by him and tossed out suggestions.

“Given that we only have about three months left, sculpting ten nude statues of you might be a bit of a rushed job.” (Hux sputtered and almost chopped his hand off.)

“Kylo, what the fuck?”

When they ate their dinner soon after (parmesan and garlic pasta with diced chicken), Hux animatedly described a possible approach.

“I was thinking of doing one of those optical illusion pieces, where everything only comes together when you look at it from a certain angle. I can’t remember the name of the technique…”

“You mean anamorphosis?”

“…Yeah, that. Thanks.”

As Kylo hunched his lanky frame over the sink to wash the dishes, Hux helped to dry them off beside him, something he didn’t usually do. They chattered on about the layout of their piece and how it would look in the gallery.

“Snoke mentioned to me before that it’s a pretty big space, so I think we can utilise the height. Maybe have something hanging from the ceiling?”

“I can hang my photos – the effect should turn out alright.”

“Great. I’ll take care of the ground level stuff.”

Nestled against each other in the hazy orange glow of the bedroom, Millie purring between them, they mumbled out the last of their discussion for the day. Seconds later, sleep took over, and they dreamt of paint-splattered cats, pasta strands arranged to form the Mona Lisa, and nude gold statues posing for a camera.

Two days later, Hux texted Snoke their proposal for the project, and after a long discussion, they finally got the okay.

Kylo spent most of his time in his workroom as usual, sketching and drafting. The difference now was that Hux sat with him, DSLR in hand. Eventually, Kylo got used to sound of the shutter clicking almost non-stop and the dull clunks as Hux switched his lens every hour or so. They didn’t speak much, absorbed in their individual work, but from time to time Hux would offer small suggestions for Kylo to add to his drawings, and Kylo in turn would peer over Hux’s shoulder and demand that certain unflattering shots of him were deleted. Hux always said “No”.

They still ate lunch together, and dinner as well. Only now, Kylo chipped in to help with the preparations more often, stealing kisses from Hux and admiring “how cute he looked in an apron”. Hux would protest and shoo him away, complaining that he was being a distraction, but after a while he would relent and they would end up making out on the kitchen counter (Hux maintained that it was all Kylo’s fault).

At night, Kylo had to physically drag Hux from his studio to get him to sleep. Once he got to the bed, however, he was out like a light – editing hundreds of Kylos in a day was extremely tiring, and it made Hux’s head spin. It was therefore pure irony that the one thing that made him feel better was the real Kylo himself.

Snoke invited them to view the unopened gallery some weeks later, so that they could get a proper look at it and have a better idea of how their installation would fit in. The man himself didn’t come down to meet them, however. Instead, a blonde woman with an undercut greeted them at the entrance. She introduced herself as Phasma, the curator of the gallery.

“I understand from Snoke that you two were commissioned to do a piece for the grand foyer?” Phasma was strikingly tall, taller than Kylo even, and she wore a dark peacoat with chrome trimmings. When she spoke, her voice was all-business. “I can take you there right now.”

The gallery was built in a distinctive Greco-Roman style, with intricately carved stone pillars flanking every entrance. Phasma led Hux and Kylo down a series of polished marble corridors, lined with watercolours and busts, past a small temperature-controlled garden, and then into the grand foyer itself, located in the very centre of the building. Spiral staircases with golden railings branched out into separate wings of the gallery, while above the staircase landing was a giant stained glass window depicting the coronation of Napoleon. Other than that, the place was empty.

“Here you are then,” said Phasma, coming to a stop at the entrance. “Let me know if you need anything else. My office is just over there.”

She turned and walked off down another corridor, leaving the pair of them alone in the foyer.

“Well, this really is an impressive place,” commented Hux, sweeping his gaze across the cavernous room. “We should start measuring – Kylo?”

Kylo was silent, but his eyes were wide as saucers. His mouth gaped slightly open, and he looked absolutely enraptured.

“Uh, Kylo?”

“What? Oh, sorry. I was just feeling a little overwhelmed by it all.” He gestured at the room at large. “Just last month I was getting raided by the police, and now I’m here. I mean, it’s really only just hit me now, how big of a thing this is.”

He had a point. Kylo had gone from barely making ends meet in a dirty hovel to creating the centrepiece installation of a high-end gallery. It was a lot to take in. Hux recalled his own first exhibition – a modest affair hosted by one of his father’s associates, back when he was still a freshman in university – and knew that he must have felt the same.

“Take your time to bask in the feeling then, but not for too long.” Hux patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure it won’t be the last time you get to do such a major project. After all, you’re good at what you do.”

Kylo allowed himself a small smile as he caught Hux’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, Hux.”

Hux responded by catching Kylo’s mouth with his.

“You are very welcome, Kylo.”

---

Over the course of the next month or so, they spent more and more time at the gallery. Kylo was in the midst of working on a particularly large sculpture that refused to fit in his workroom, so he had it brought to the gallery itself and worked on it there. Every morning, he got out of bed early and ate breakfast with Hux, after which the pair of them would carry a bulky bag of tools and equipment all the way to the gallery. Millie gave several plaintive meows every time they left the house (the automatic cat feeder was a poor substitute for human company) and Hux promised to make it up to her after the job was all over.

Hux hovered around Kylo as he worked, chiselling and carving and painting. He had to admit that watching Kylo work like this was truly fascinating, and even when he put his camera down, he found that he could not look away. Kylo had not been lying when he described how completely he immersed himself in his work – when he painted a crashing wave, he did so with sweeping, rhythmic strokes, and he looked calm and serene; when he painted a horrific warzone (why did he like these so much?), he gripped his brush as if it were his sword and started murdering his piece, letting the bright red paint flow in rivulets down the side of the sculpture.

Hux continued to take shot after shot of Kylo, making sure to get the right angle of his hands holding the brush, or the correct lighting on his hair as he reached up to adjust a stray strand that had fallen out of his bun. Sometimes he even managed to get a shot of Kylo’s eyes as he was in the throes of one of his painting frenzies – it was the most that he allowed Hux to take of his face. Hux always brought his laptop with him, and whenever Kylo took a break he would edit the photos on the spot, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the foyer. He still refused to delete the unflattering shots of Kylo (“I’m telling you, you look fine.”).

In the time they spent there, Phasma became a close friend. The three of them would have lunch together, and sometimes even dinner if they happened to be staying late. She had an impressive knowledge and interest in art, and freely offered pointers to Hux and Kylo as they both worked. Hux always thanked her graciously, while Kylo, despite liking her as a person, bit back his instinctive desire to respond with “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Two weeks before the official opening of the gallery, Hux and Kylo finished their piece. All it took was many large buckets of paint, stress, some cameras, and an unholy amount of very fine string. The sky had already turned dark when Hux put the finishing touches on his part of the piece, the sunlight barely shining through the stained glass window. Kylo sat at the base of his half of the piece – a painted sculpture that was meant to be a paint drop, but which everyone said looked more like a puddle instead – and idly ran his hand over the side.

“So… what happens now?”

“Now,” answered Hux, coming down from the ladder he had just been sitting on. “We pack up and go home. Millie’s missing us.”

Kylo turned and caught Hux’s arm just as he reached the floor. “I don’t mean that, I’m talking about the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not like you, Hux. I don’t plan my life out to a T. So now that this project is finally over, I don’t actually know what I’m gonna do. I feel a little lost.”

Hux sat down next to Kylo and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Just do what you’ve always done. Make the art you want to make. Make a bigger Starkiller. Carve out a life-size statue of your grandfather. Then at some point, somebody’s gonna ask you to do a job for them, and you’ll carry on with that and life goes on.”

“And I’ll still stay with you?” Kylo leant his head on Hux’s. “Because I don’t want to be a burden or anyth –”

“Yes, you will,” Hux interrupted. “I didn’t remodel an entire room just for you to abandon it.”

Kylo huffed out a quiet laugh.

“And you were right,” Hux continued, softer this time. “I will be lonely if you go, so you can’t do that.”

Hux couldn’t see Kylo smile then, but he felt it when the latter pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Then I’m not going anywhere, gingerbread.”

---

Kylo had rented a new deep blue suit for the official opening, which made Hux very happy. What made him a little less happy, however, was Kylo’s insistence on wearing his ‘self-portrait’ helmet over it.

“I didn’t even know that thing was functional,” he grumbled, as Kylo adjusted the clasps.

“It is and I’m wearing it.” Kylo’s reply came out muffled and deep, distorted by the helmet.

They were on their way to the foyer, closely followed by a crowd of reporters and media representatives. Phasma led the way, while Snoke walked somewhere behind them, a tall imposing figure in grey. He gladly entertained the many newspeople who were pestering him for interviews, and Hux was immensely grateful for that. Anything that kept Snoke from talking to him was more than welcome, and he much preferred talking to Kylo anyway.

“For the record, Kylo, you look neither Cool nor Enigmatic. You look like you’re in half-finished cosplay. And I’m sure none of the reporters caught a word you said at the ribbon-cutting ceremony just now.”

“It doesn’t matter, Hux. My grandfather did this all the time.”

A sharp-eared reporter trailing just behind them caught the word and ran up to Kylo.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ren!” He said excitedly. “Am I right to assume that your grandfather is the shock artist Darth Vader?”

Kylo paused to look at the little reporter. His face was hidden by the helmet, but Hux guessed that he was probably beaming underneath. No wonder he’s wearing that, he thought. Without it, he looks just like an eager little kid.

Hux left the two to chat, and caught up to Phasma. She had switched out her usual black peacoat for a scintillating silver dress, and the heels she wore allowed her to tower over everyone else.

“Quite the crowd, isn’t it?” Hux commented drily.  

“Indeed. Snoke invited all his business associates after all. Even your father was supposed to be here, but he had a prior engagement and couldn’t make it.”

Hux sighed. His father was never one for fancy events like these, preferring to read about them in the newspapers a day or two later. He had said so himself a couple of weeks ago, when Hux had met him for dinner at an extravagant Spanish restaurant in town. Hux suspected that the prior engagement was nothing but a lie, but he kept his mouth shut and didn’t mention it to Phasma.

They had reached the entrance to the foyer now, and Snoke paused in front of it to give a brief introduction of the work that Hux and Kylo had done. Hux found Kylo standing near the back of the throng and joined him there. He seemed nervous, tapping his feet anxiously and playing with his fingers. Hux took his hand.

“It won’t turn out like last time.”

Then Snoke threw open the heavy oak double doors and a collective murmur and a few scattered gasps rippled through the crowd.

At least a thousand different photographs were suspended from the ceiling, the fine string causing them to look like they were floating. All of them hung at different heights and distances from each other, some clumped together, others far away and all alone. From everyone’s position at the entrance, the photos came together neatly to form the image of a figure, bent over, a paintbrush in his hand. Every one of the photos was monochrome, and every one of them was of Kylo, although none of the reporters would ever know that.

Extending from the paintbrush was a sculpture of a droplet of paint. It was flat and colourful, a bright puddle-shaped piece on the ground. It was only when the group ascended the staircase to stand on the landing at the other end of the room did they see the numerous intricate designs and drawings on it. Kylo had painted an extensive range of scenes, depicting bloody wars, roiling oceans, peaceful urban landscapes, and faceless couples (one of them a ginger and a brunette) lying prone in post-coital bliss. In addition to that, they now had a much better view of Hux’s many photos of Kylo – Kylo’s vicelike grip on his brush as he stretched himself across the sculpture, Kylo leaning out of his workroom window and smoking, Kylo tearing up as he sketched out a drawing of a funeral pyre.

When Snoke had finally come to view the finished product a week earlier, even he had agreed that it was more than worthy of being the centrepiece of the gallery. Earning his mentor’s praise had made Kylo gush happily for days, but now, seeing a host of strangers look at his work – the art he had created in tandem with his lover – in undisguised awe, he could barely keep it together.

He slipped into one of the smaller corridors with Hux and wrapped him in a tight hug. Hux didn’t resist, and instead reached up to undo the clasps of his helmet. Kylo’s eyes glistened.

“Congratulations on your big break, Kylo. We’re standing on the same stage now.”

Footsteps sounded behind them, and the little reporter from earlier rounded the corner.

“Mr. Hux? If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some quick – oh. Oh, I am so sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll, uh, I’ll come back later. Really sorry, I’ll leave right now –”

---

The newspapers were full of their faces the following day. Snoke’s creepy countenance, flashing a grin that Hux still found unsettling, was prominently featured in all the major broadsheets, which praised the relatively smooth opening of his new gallery. This was accompanied by a little shot of Hux and Kylo, as well as a photo of ‘The Artist at Work’, their eye-catching centrepiece installation. Hux personally thought that the paper could have picked a better angle to shoot it, but it didn’t really matter in the end.

The tabloids, on the other hand, were ablaze with reports of his “steamy and scandalous” romance with a mysterious, unknown man. The incriminating photo showed Hux kissing someone behind a pillar, but the person was mostly blocked, such that only a little bit of his face could be seen. One particularly observant writer noted that Hux’s secret lover bore a suspicious resemblance to the son of UN Ambassador Leia Organa, but no one came forward to clarify anything, and after a while the rumours died down. Hux hoped his father didn’t catch wind of it all – it would be a terrible hassle to have to come out to him and explain everything.

Kylo found the whole thing hilarious, and he cut out the article and framed it prominently on the wall of their bedroom, right next to his painting of Hux and Hux’s photo of him.

“It’s easy for you to laugh,” snapped Hux, as they got ready for bed. “No one knows who you are.”

“It was your choice to kiss me in public though,” Kylo held out his hands in feigned innocence. “I had absolutely nothing to do with it at all.”

He had a point, and Hux knew it was mostly his own doing anyway. Still, it was aggravating, and he refused to rest until he had the last say.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to kiss me in front of all the cameras?” He rolled over on the bed to position himself above Kylo. “So it’s still your fault for –”

Kylo reached up to pull him down into a messy kiss. “For being so attractive and so damn kissable?” he murmured against Hux’s mouth.

“Fuck you.” Hux bit him on the lip and broke away. Millie hopped up onto the bed to join them, and Hux placed her in between him and Kylo as a furry orange barrier.

“You are infuriating and I hate you.” He said, rolling back to his side and crossing his arms.

Kylo laughed and twisted over to Hux’s side of the bed. Millie stretched and shifted over to the top of the pillow to give Kylo more space. The traitor, Hux thought bitterly, as Kylo draped his long arms over him and held him close.

“I know, Hux. I know.”

End.