[It's not the pain of Steve's iron-clad grip that causes Ren— perched and poised, towering over his broodmate like a half-starved beast— to scream in visible agony. The Force, his symbiote, the bond shared and lost and fed into a thousand times over rattles the limits of his conscious mind; Ren's fingertips twitch, tremble, slacken as though physically struck. Instruments wail in time with a child's sobs and the ice cold shock of drowning water, abstract images laid over one another until they fuse at the seams into some hideous, racking amalgamation.
He wants it to stop. He needs it to stop.
His held arm twists, yanking itself violently forward to compound the blow as Ren throws his weight into the downward swing of his opposite fist - the back of his knuckles cutting through the air in search of Steve's face, his slim jawline, the arch of his nose. Anything within reach. He knows it'll hurt them both; he doesn't care.
no subject
He wants it to stop. He needs it to stop.
His held arm twists, yanking itself violently forward to compound the blow as Ren throws his weight into the downward swing of his opposite fist - the back of his knuckles cutting through the air in search of Steve's face, his slim jawline, the arch of his nose. Anything within reach. He knows it'll hurt them both; he doesn't care.
No more. No more. No more—]