Kylo's hand stills. Ripples of Ronan's misery spread through him, joining with the fear native to his own heart, his own nerves, adrenaline still surging through his blood.
He doesn't know how to banish either. The only thing he ever learned to do with fear and the pain of being nothing worth saving, of being nothing of value to counter the threat of his power, was to transform it into anger— and he is furious, still. Just not... not with Ronan. Declan did this. Declan blinded him, cut him off from everything beyond the hideously inadequate prison of his own physicality— a vehicle Kylo had never learned to pilot manually. Ronan could have been pulsing glorious with all the magic and power in the universe and Kylo wouldn't have been able to see it, let alone touch it.
It's frustrating, sensing the argument for his own worthlessness Ronan draws to himself when all Kylo can feel is how vitally important he is— not his magic, but his choice. How could he explain? How could he put Ronan back where he belongs, right at his centre? Perhaps only like this.
"Come back to me," he says, his thumb running lightly over Ronan's cheek, as if wiping away an invisible tear. He breathes out, slowly, his welcome a fully conscious decision. He needs to feel Ronan join with him, not to banish a lingering fear of powerlessness, but of abandonment. And maybe, Ronan needs it too. "Come back where you belong."
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He doesn't know how to banish either. The only thing he ever learned to do with fear and the pain of being nothing worth saving, of being nothing of value to counter the threat of his power, was to transform it into anger— and he is furious, still. Just not... not with Ronan. Declan did this. Declan blinded him, cut him off from everything beyond the hideously inadequate prison of his own physicality— a vehicle Kylo had never learned to pilot manually. Ronan could have been pulsing glorious with all the magic and power in the universe and Kylo wouldn't have been able to see it, let alone touch it.
It's frustrating, sensing the argument for his own worthlessness Ronan draws to himself when all Kylo can feel is how vitally important he is— not his magic, but his choice. How could he explain? How could he put Ronan back where he belongs, right at his centre? Perhaps only like this.
"Come back to me," he says, his thumb running lightly over Ronan's cheek, as if wiping away an invisible tear. He breathes out, slowly, his welcome a fully conscious decision. He needs to feel Ronan join with him, not to banish a lingering fear of powerlessness, but of abandonment. And maybe, Ronan needs it too. "Come back where you belong."