ミ☆ - 𝙶𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎
In which their loyalties lie with the first order, but they're both torn, undecided, broken. In each other, they find themselves.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡...
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fade: chapter thirteen
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
FLORENCE WATCHES BEN sleep, breaths slow and gentle, curls of his black hair in his face. There's something about him that just looks so peaceful — when awake, Ben Solo tries his hardest to be Kylo Ren. In sleep, he isn't concerned with any of that. He looks beautiful in way she has never quite looked at him before.
She's not entirely sure why she woke up, but there's something off about everything. Like a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she can't quite place if it's good or bad yet. She also isn't entirely sure how she even ended up in his bedroom. She was boiling with anger all afternoon, but when it came to it; her room or his, she found herself punching in his personal code to his quarters. And thus, all was forgiven. Kind of.
She slips out of bed to use the bathroom, walking with light steps to be as quiet as possible. The feeling gets stronger with each passing second, and it becomes clearer that it's not a something but a someone. A presence in the force. "Who are you?" She whispers, glancing at herself in the mirror.
"What do you want?" She asks, feeling the hairs on her neck stand up, goosebumps spreading over her entire body.
"Florence," a voice says. It's distant, but she can feel it. It's a females voice, much to her surprise. She doesn't know what to say, instead she waits patiently for the person to say something else. But she doesn't. And the presence fades away slowly, leaving Florence staring at herself in the mirror as she wonders what the hell that was about.
She goes back to bed, gently slipping under the covers. Oddly enough, she doesn't feel panicked or even weirded out by what happened, it had not been a threatening call, but rather one of peace. There's no point in waking Ben, he needs the sleep and honestly, he may be better off not knowing. At some point, after staring into the ceiling for what feels like hours, twisting and turning because no position is comfortable, she falls asleep again, cuddled up next to him where she feels the safest.
When she wakes up, Ben is coming out of the shower. They exchange one short look before Florence also heads straight for the shower, trying to remember if what happened during the night really did happen or if it was some strange dream. But it was real. She had felt it, heard it as if the person, woman, was standing next to her.
When she steps out, she swears she can hear Ben speaking. She stands in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, arms crossed over her chest. He turns around and looks at her, eyes wide with confusion but also a tad of terror as if he had just been caught off guard. "Who were you talking to?" She asks.
