A/N: Very first serious attempt at Reylo: one shot- just getting a feel for writing these characters. No plot or prompt used- just…playing with ink, as I am wont to do.
Rain was her favorite type of weather. It did not make sense, since living in an abandoned building with a roof that had more leaks than solid parts did make things soggy under the gray skies.
Still, it made her smile to feel the tears of the heavens and when she spun beneath the gaping hole in the factory ceiling she wondered if God lamented her lack of shower and thought she could use a good cleaning.
Living in the West Coast afforded many chances for rain. Another thing she loved dearly about it was that the result of pouring from above meant the flourishing of green down below.
Coming in with the splattering water was the dim light of a sun fighting through the crumpled sheets of cloud. Reaching for it were her plants. One was in an abandoned tire filled with earth, a dozen or so were in small cartons of yogurt she had filched from recycling bags in a neighborhood on garbage day. Three more were climbing out of makeshift pots made of cinder blocks that had loosened from the wall of the factory’s far wall .They rose around the soft rather unreliable wood floor beneath her feet and reached for the light.
Similarly Rey stretched a hand up, peering through her splayed fingers as the water and sun touched her face.
And then the thunder roared above.
She would have heard him come in, on any other day. She would have heard the creak of the rusted door on the second floor, and the groan of the steps so unnerving to climb. The rustle of the garbage being shifted by his careful feet and sigh of irritation as he fiddled with the camera around his neck.
But the thunder, sneaky thing that it was, shouted and screamed, rippled and groaned. So instead she closed her eyes and listened to it’s furious song, unaware of him in the shadows across from her, stunned to stillness.
There was no breath in his lungs, and no beat in his chest and no blood in his veins, there was only the thunder. There was only the light pouring in bone white, deep gray, shimmering with droplets of water. There was only vibrant greens of tomato vines and berry bushes and carrot tops sprouting from the chaos of forgotten garbage.
And there was her, in this abandoned hell. A delicate drop of sunshine, an elegant dancer reaching towards distant stars, eyes closed as she dreamed.
It was involuntary that his hands raised the camera to his face, that his eyes so wide and disbelieving framed her the run down space.
The camera flashed, whirred and shattered the stillness. In a moment she had turned, the half smile on her sun kissed face vanishing as she stumbled back, wary, tense.
Deadly.
Nothing about her stance suggested fear so much as caution. He stood there hands filled with the camera, mouth empty of words and stared.
Another thunder clap, so loud this time it made the walls- already a little shaky- shudder and dance.
“What do you want?” Her voice carried over the pounding of the rain and slowly Kylo pushed the black hood back from his face, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought.
“Sorry…I thought…” He paused, looked around, turned his dark eyes back to her. “I thought this was an abandoned building.”
Rey looked back with a slight frown, annoyed with his answer because of course it was abandoned. There was a very evident hole in the ceiling between them. She blinked, cocked her head just the slightest bit and watched as he turned slowly, painfully red.
“I mean, I did not think I was intruding.” He clarified with a bit more bite when her stare lingered and began to drip with disdain.
“Well. You are.” She crossed her arms.
His returning glare was mildly irritated, but more disarming was his gaze flickering past her to the sleeping bag and dirty pillow on the floor in the corner. A back pack and shoes thrown haphazard next to it. More cinder blocks were piled in a shaky rough table shape. An empty peanut butter jar sat on it with some purple heather that he had seen growing through the pavement slabs of the first floor near the entrance.
Feeling suddenly naked before this strange boy and his wandering gaze Rey began storming forward, jaw flexing.
“Please get out.” She said please with the same politeness she heard drunkards use at bars when handling words like punches and Kylo cleverly backed up several steps as she approached.
“This building is condemned.” He blinked at her mildly as she stood before him, a little bundle of tight muscles and simmering indignation. “It’s not safe to-”
“Yes, thank you. Please go away.” She motioned towards the staircase and he glanced in the direction then back at her.
“Are you…. a run away?” She looked young. Perhaps a year or two younger than himself, and with grad just around the corner that made her a minor. Certainly if his mother knew where he was she would be furious, he couldn’t imagine finding enough time to sneak out and use a sleeping bag in such a place without parents being completely out of the picture.
This path of inquiry was not welcomed, as it seemed nothing he said was welcomed and Rey stiffened some more, jaw set hard. “None of your business.”
He winced. True. It wasn’t… but picturing his mother’s face if he told her that he found a girl in an abandoned factory and that he had not tried to help…
Better nosy than dead.
“No, but-”
This was all the little thing could take. She turned, and was walking purposefully towards a window. Wide eyed Kylo followed, starting to say something although he wasn’t sure what. It died in his throat when her hands gripped the window ledge and climbing through the gaping hole lacking in glass she disappeared.
“What the-” He gasped, rushing forward. She moved like a squirrel, more wild than human and scampered over creaking bits of tile, then to a long lined pipe before hitting the ground floor and with a furtive furious glance at him pelted off around the building and away.
He was breathless despite standing still. Breathless and his heart raced with her as she disappeared. The rain poured and the thunder roared and he stood there, frozen until thoughts of his mother’s scolding face or his father’s eye roll brought him back to himself and he hurried away.
Sitting at the dinner table later he pushed the food around aimlessly, lost in thought, picturing the way the rain had pelted down on her and the curve of her mouth as she smiled at it.
“…it’s French, I think.” His father was saying to his mother, tapping a book he was showing her with his finger.
“Let me see.” His mother sighed, mild exasperation but more affection tingeing her words. “Coup de foudre…? It’s not a direct translation.” She paused, glancing at her husband. “It means a clap of thunder or a strike of lightning but it is used to say love at first sight.”
His father’s handsome face beamed at her, pleased with himself. “Well, that right there is how I felt when I first saw you.”
Smirking his mother rolled her eyes. “What nonsense. You had dollar signs in your eyes, not hearts.”
Kylo looked at them for the first time the whole meal like he was actually seeing them, wide eyed.
“What did you say?”
Han blinked, amused by the dazed expression on his gloomy teenager. “What? That I saw money- er love when I first set eyes on your mother?”
“No…no the French.” Kylo glanced at his mother. “What was it again?”
Leia cocked her head, curious about his urgent panicked tone. “…Coup de foudre?”
“A clap of thunder.” Han snapped his hands together, making Kylo jump. Chuckling his father shook his head and went to the stove to get a second helping.
“The French do have a way of saying it.” Leia admitted, unaware of Kylo’s stunned face as she nibbled on her salad. “Love at first sight.”
Outside the rain was still pouring, although the thunder had shifted away. It didn’t matter however, he could still hear it. Would be hearing it every time his heart beat.
And with every beat her face would burn itself deeper into his mind, the flash of her eyes, the turn of her chin in defiance.
Her smile before she knew he had arrived.
Tangling his hands in his hair he stared at the table, listening to the storm of his blood pulsing in his ears.
A clap of thunder, a strike of lightning. He was electrified.
Ink Child Writing 