Kylo shakes his head. How can he explain? What good would it do to try?
“I shouldn’t have come in here,” he says, pulling himself to his feet. “That’s all.”
“Your old room.”
When Hux says this, Kylo realizes he’s seen this room already. Hux poked around in here when Kylo went to town, that second time. Kylo turns and looks at the room again, seeing it as Hux must have: the little bed, the folded quilt, some model starships lined up on the dresser, a framed poster of Ben’s favorite holofilm on the wall over the bed. It was some stupid action movie about smugglers and space pirates. Han had spent the whole thing whispering to Ben about the inaccuracies. Enraged, Ben had insisted that the inaccuracy was the point. That the artistic commentary on smuggling was more important that the accuracy. Han had given him such a look. Leia had laughed, had claimed to agree.
This is hard for me. I have gotten so used to what I am, and how my life works. I never want to stay. I’m always ready to leave. But not today. Today, I’m haunted by the fact that tomorrow he’ll be here and I won’t be. I want to stay. I pray to stay. I close my eyes and wish to stay.