the poison boy [kylo ren]
He seems to find the word “home” foreign, like the sweetness of the melting cream on his tongue that you have to coax him into swallowing. Acquiescing with a bitter frown of disdain, he watches you watch him. Beneath the fading light of midnight his skin is pale, unbelievably dry, and so cold your fingertips freeze without ever reaching him. Kylo doesn't ever touch your bare skin. Flowers wilt between his fingers and your skin would do the same.
“Yes, home, the place where you belong,” you say, standing to circle his tree.
“I belong here,” Kylo points out, gesturing blindly around the forest.
“This isn't a home.” You snort at the thought.
“But you just said-!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know what I said. But this isn't a home!” You laugh and glance around at a tiny world infested by the beautiful shades of green intrinsic to flora. “A home has walls and a roof and a bed. When you leave it, you dream of it sometimes. When you're away too long, your stomach hurts like you're sick and you cry just thinking about it. And it has someone you love.” Your voice catches on the last part and you stumble over a branch.
“Someone I love?”
You nod, not trusting your voice. You're taken by the handsome man who is so ignorant to the workings of your world. He's interesting, so much more interesting than the stiff man who wear stiff trousers and jackets all year no matter the weather whom your mother wants you to marry. You shouldn't be in the forest with a strange man when you're engaged to be engaged, you think, but you just don't give a damn. Which is why you visit him on the days it doesn't rain with a treat from the shop.
He always asks you to add something dangerous to your treats, but you're afraid of hurting him. He says often that a taste of poison isn't always fatal, encourages you to nibble on peculiar stems and leaves that stain your lips and turn your stomach, but he says he can never kiss you for even the smallest taste of his poison is a murderous weapon.
“I don't love anyone,” he mutters. “But I like your visits. That's enough, don't you think?” He licks some of the excess cream from his fingers, obviously disgusted. “Ah, and I trusted you not to poison me with sweet things.”