#tclkfirst

                                         and they were roommates

          it’s been a long cycle, there’s no doubt about it. his eyes have bags, though he knows hux has it worse. his shoulders are sore, his body feels heavy. every inch of him screams with a stress so intense that his steps are even off balance. he doesn’t even pay attention where he goes. kylo hasn’t eaten, hasn’t really had anything to drink. when he enters his chambers, he peels off his helmet and drops it with a loud thud --- he’s supposed to have gone to a debriefing after the mission, but he doesn’t care to even do it. instead, he continues to peel off clothes, until he’s down to a minimal layer, shorts and ... nothing else. shorts. a stagger to his steps, he makes it to the bed, and feels his legs finally give, his face hitting a pillow as he collapses onto it, breathing hard, ragged. he’d pushed himself too far this time, more than usual. he’ll deal with it later.

Don’t stand out.

That had been Cal’s motto since the First Order rose to power. After surviving the destruction of Master Skywalker’s temple, Cal went into hiding. What could a lone Jedi Padawan do when even the great Luke Skywalker had disappeared, after all? It was better if people thought him dead. It was safer. 

He didn’t care if that made him a coward.

He might not be a member of the resistance, but he was a sympathiser. Still, when he saw the man on the run from First Order troopers, part of him wanted to just look the other way. BD-1 wouldn’t have that though, prodding at him with his scomp link.

@tclkfirst

He couldn’t fly the escape pod, even if it were an option. By this point, he’d lost too much blood, all he could do was keep pressure on the blaster wound and hope that he didn’t die in the inevitable crash. He’d thought he was dead already, until he awoke to someone strapping him into the pod, giving a grim salute before they sent him away from the fleet. 

He felt like a coward, like he’d run. He could have run. 

He felt the impact, but it wasn’t like it was happening to him. He was floating above his body almost, the whole world muted in his ears.  He felt himself fumbling to get unstrapped, scrabbling at storage containers under the seat, trying to find the medical kit he knew was supplied to these pods. His fingers were slippery, and his nails couldn’t catch. He sagged sideways, trying to keep pressure on the wound, knowing all the pressure in the world wouldn’t help him after much longer.