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Summary
He’s brushing her hair. He loves the feeling of the soft strands of her chestnut tresses as he works, gently untangling each snag until it lays like a sheet of gleaming silk. He keeps it down, always. He misses looking into her eyes, but being able to be close to her like this makes it almost bearable. At least that’s what he tells himself.
He misses her fire, her fight. He misses her voice. He misses how she would turn every interaction into a struggle for dominance. He misses how she would win. He misses when her eyes would betray her, and he knew she didn’t hate him. He misses her.
Though he treasures having her with him, Kylo Ren would do anything to change how this had happened, how she had come to be his. His; silent, still, beautiful, perfect Rey.