"We're not stopping." He grunted. That, too, was an order.
However, Kylo gave no coordinates, not even any suggestions, of where they were supposed to go. An oversight? Unlikely. Choosing not to decide was still a conscious choice. A part of him truly did want to go home, but he couldn't admit it. The other part of him didn't believe there was even a home to go back to.
He moved toward the back of the ship, still watching his father from the corner of his eye. He hadn't been on board the Falcon since he was a child, but he knew where they could find a secluded bunk. Just as he knew that Han would follow him there.
Only in privacy did he silently agree to let his father help him.
Carefully, he tugged off the layers, wincing slightly as coarse fabric grazed over various wounds. Pain felt like an old familiar friend, far more familiar than the man now staring him down. In the greater scheme of things, Kylo didn't care about where the shrapnel landed. The skin he hid below was a tapestry of old scars and fading bruises - some from battle but most from training. But his father's eyes made him feel very exposed. He felt torn, perhaps even ashamed.
no subject
However, Kylo gave no coordinates, not even any suggestions, of where they were supposed to go. An oversight? Unlikely. Choosing not to decide was still a conscious choice. A part of him truly did want to go home, but he couldn't admit it. The other part of him didn't believe there was even a home to go back to.
He moved toward the back of the ship, still watching his father from the corner of his eye. He hadn't been on board the Falcon since he was a child, but he knew where they could find a secluded bunk. Just as he knew that Han would follow him there.
Only in privacy did he silently agree to let his father help him.
Carefully, he tugged off the layers, wincing slightly as coarse fabric grazed over various wounds. Pain felt like an old familiar friend, far more familiar than the man now staring him down. In the greater scheme of things, Kylo didn't care about where the shrapnel landed. The skin he hid below was a tapestry of old scars and fading bruises - some from battle but most from training. But his father's eyes made him feel very exposed. He felt torn, perhaps even ashamed.