[ Sleep is fitful. It doesn't come easy to him on a normal day and when he finally winds down enough to feel the pull of exhaustion, he's not able to stay that way for very long. There's intermittent wakefulness, mind whirring; an endless machine. Tonight, he'd spent the better part of several hours convincing himself that while the thoughts were important they could be handled at another time. They weren't urgent– not much is anymore. Not like it was on the Finalizer or Starkiller, where something could change at the drop of a trooper helmet.
At some point, he'd tired himself out in the cyclical argument, dozing off mid-way through.
Except something prods him awake, eventually. It starts at the back of his head, just a creeping oddness. Bones and muscles still heavy with the desire to rest, he ignores it. Minutes pass and it happens again, stronger. This feels more like a pull than a push and Hux feels like he's been doused in cold water head first. Snapping awake, he waits, pulse fluttering with the sudden jolt from sleep to wakefulness. A quiet but persistent wailing fills his hearing as he focuses, a rush of rage and an undercurrent of being completely overwhelmed.
It's Ren. Has to be.
Sucking in a breath, he slides out of bed, pulls his door open and makes his way as quickly and silently as possible towards the source. Ren's easy to find with how much he's broadcasting. The lights are off in the living room when he gets there, familiar blocked in shapes of bodies fitted onto the form of the furniture. As he carefully picks his way around the shapes, the tang of alcohol becomes nearly overpowering– the catalyst, he thinks.
With how dark it is, he can't quite make out Ren's features. Light from the windows barely casts a gradient wash of illumination, flickering from pink to blue to green from a noisy neon sign just outside. Tentatively, he reaches a hand down, coming into contact with the curve of Ren's shoulder. ]
no subject
At some point, he'd tired himself out in the cyclical argument, dozing off mid-way through.
Except something prods him awake, eventually. It starts at the back of his head, just a creeping oddness. Bones and muscles still heavy with the desire to rest, he ignores it. Minutes pass and it happens again, stronger. This feels more like a pull than a push and Hux feels like he's been doused in cold water head first. Snapping awake, he waits, pulse fluttering with the sudden jolt from sleep to wakefulness. A quiet but persistent wailing fills his hearing as he focuses, a rush of rage and an undercurrent of being completely overwhelmed.
It's Ren. Has to be.
Sucking in a breath, he slides out of bed, pulls his door open and makes his way as quickly and silently as possible towards the source. Ren's easy to find with how much he's broadcasting. The lights are off in the living room when he gets there, familiar blocked in shapes of bodies fitted onto the form of the furniture. As he carefully picks his way around the shapes, the tang of alcohol becomes nearly overpowering– the catalyst, he thinks.
With how dark it is, he can't quite make out Ren's features. Light from the windows barely casts a gradient wash of illumination, flickering from pink to blue to green from a noisy neon sign just outside. Tentatively, he reaches a hand down, coming into contact with the curve of Ren's shoulder. ]
Ren.