Chapter Text
Thankfully, the beach was deserted in winter, so Hux had it all to himself as he jogged along the stretch of sand. There was no wonder, really, why people rarely came here at this time of year. Continuous and unforgiving gusts of biting east wind came in from the steel grey ocean, so chilling it would dig all the way into your bones and linger there. Others would call it freezing, but Hux had always thought of it as numbing because that was the feeling he got whenever he ran on the beach. And that numbness was just what he needed to be able to disconnect his mind from reality for the hour he took out of his schedule four times a week.
There wasn't any snow. It very rarely was even at this time of year in England. It was blistering cold, yes, but sadly they hardly ever got the peaceful beauty that the white, comforting blanket of snow provided.
His feet dug into the heavy sand, the muscles in his legs straining as he urged himself on, focusing solely on reaching the end of the beach, where he would turn and run all the way back home again.
He didn’t notice the object in the sand until he almost tripped over it. He stumbled slightly as his right foot knocked into something hard - though not painful - and halted. He turned, panting, and frost-mist formed in the air as he breathed out heavily. There was something sticking out of the wet sand; something made of glass that looked a lot like the neck of a bottle. Squatting, Hux grabbed the item and pulled at it, releasing it from the grip of the sandy shore.
It was a bottle: a clear, square one made of thick glass that Hux was almost certain had once held Jack Daniel’s whiskey. It wasn’t too worn, so it couldn’t have been in the ocean for that long. In itself, it wasn’t particularly remarkable. Sometimes, these things drifted ashore. But this bottle contained a rolled-up piece of paper and Hux realised that what he was holding in his hand might actually be a message in a bottle.
Curious, he tried to unscrew the cap without success. It was so tightly sealed that Hux suspected that whoever had tossed it in the ocean must have glued it shut to keep water from entering. He held the bottle up to the light, squinting at the paper inside it and decided to cut his workout short, jogging home with the bottle securely clasped in his hand.
Back in his flat, he found Millicent - his shorthair, ginger tabby - waiting for him when he came through the door.
“Hello, darling,” he greeted her, kicking his running shoes off.
She gave a mreow in return.
Though impatient, Hux was cold after the run, so he left the bottle on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, rid himself of his sweaty running clothes and took a quick, scalding shower to get the heat back into his body. He wrapped himself up in his bathrobe and stuck his feet in his wool-lined slippers after.
Then he went back to the bottle. He tried to unscrew it again, but he didn’t have any luck this time either. He tried with a towel and he tried running it under hot water, but he still failed. Eventually, he went down into the basement and to his storage room where he found a bottle of acetone to bring upstairs with him. If anything would open the tightly sealed bottle, it was that. He carefully dunked the head of the bottle into the acetone and with some patient prying, he was finally able to unscrew it, almost gasping in excitement when the cap came loose.
Hux coaxed the rolled-up paper out with his little finger. It was crisp and dry, having suffered no water damage on its journey. He rolled it out on the kitchen counter, keeping it flat with his thumb and index finger, and read:
April 11, 2018
To someone beautiful and far away,
I’m writing to you, whoever and wherever you are.
Somewhere out there, you must be waiting, like I am waiting.
Kylo Ren
There was no mention of a place or an address to tell Hux where it might have come from, but the date written in the top left corner of the letter, let him know that it had taken the bottle almost a year to reach the shores of Arkanis.
Bringing the bottle and the letter with him into the living room, he sat down on the cushy, brown sofa. He studied the letter, trying to figure out who might have written it. The name was strange, nothing he had ever heard before. It still sounded male to him though, and the handwriting backed up that assumption: it was simple, easily readable print. From that, he also deduced that it was likely someone younger rather than older who was the writer.
It was really quite romantic, Hux thought, and he wondered what the sender had hoped would happen when they threw that bottle into the ocean. The likelihood of it surviving and someone finding it was so small. And, even if someone did, there was no contact information, which meant it was close to impossible for anyone to write back.
Close to impossible. Because there was a name, and if there was a name, Hux knew that a person could be found. Moving over to his desk in the corner of the living room, he opened his laptop and went straight to Google, where he typed in Kylo Ren.
He hadn’t expected a lot of results, but he hadn’t expected zero results either, which was exactly what he got. Knitting his brows, he tried searching for the name in a couple of national archives as well but still found nothing. It wasn’t the first time he had met a dead end with a name and there were multiple reasons why he wasn’t able to find anything. Most likely, it was because it was some kind of a nickname or a pseudonym that wasn’t registered anywhere.
Hux reached for the letter and read it once more. While it was definitely romantic, there was also something undeniably sad about it. Especially the last line - Somewhere out there, you must be waiting, like I am waiting - was rather heartbreaking. It was lonely, and a larger part of Hux than he was willing to admit to, resonated very closely with that.
The next day, he brought the message in a bottle with him to work. He was certain that his colleagues at Arkanis Chronicle would find the letter very interesting. As journalists, this was just the kind of thing that would peak all of their curious natures, just like it had peaked Hux’s.
The Arkanis Chronicle wasn’t a large newspaper by any means. It was only a local paper and Arkanis was just a provincial town. Naturally, there was a limit to how big or exciting their news was. When he was younger, Hux had dreamed about becoming a journalist who wrote important, breakthrough pieces, and he had a promising career after finishing university when he was still living in London. But four years ago, unexpected circumstances had turned his life on its head and he had made the decision to move back to his hometown. And at this point, Hux doubted that the exciting career he had once hoped for would ever happen.
“Good morning,” he greeted Phasma, who occupied the cubicle across from him.
Despite it being early in the morning, she was looking striking as always with her pale blonde hair slicked loosely away from her face, wearing almost no makeup. She had this effortless beauty about her that Hux rather admired, much of it stemming from her confidence.
She glanced up from her computer screen. “Morning,” she smiled back at him.
He and Phasma had become fast friends when Hux started working for the Chronicle, quickly bonding over sarcasm and a preference for coffee rather than tea. At this point, she was one of the very few people in his life that he could honestly say that he trusted and cared about.
“You’ll never believe what I found on the beach yesterday while I was out running,” he told her rather excitedly. He pulled the glass bottle out of his bag and showed it to her.
Phasma arched an immaculate eyebrow at him. “A bottle,” she replied dryly.
Hux rolled his eyes. “Yes, but look inside it.”
He handed it to her, and Phasma, just as inquisitive (if not more) as he was, grabbed it. Her blue eyes immediately went larger when she spotted the piece of paper inside it. She quickly unscrewed the bottle, got the letter out and scanned the words. She then gaped before she looked back up at Hux.
“You’re kidding.”
Hux shook his head. “It’s the real deal, I swear.”
“This is amazing!” she let out, her gaze going back to the letter to read it again. “And it could potentially be a really good story. Have you done any research yet?”
“I did some basic research last night, but I couldn’t find anything. I need to dig deeper."
Phasma nodded. “You should definitely take it to Snoke. I’m positive he’ll let you do a story on it. It will be sweet either way to have a story about a romantic message in a bottle, but imagine if you were actually able to find this person?”
“I know,” Hux said, eager at the thought. “I’m really curious to try and find out more.”
He brought the message in a bottle with him to Snoke next, tapping on the door leading into the office of the editor in chief.
“Enter,” Snoke’s raspy voice replied.
Hux stepped into the office. It was neatly kept, but stacked to the brim with books and years worth of journals and publishings from close to a lifelong career.
“Hux,” proclaimed Snoke from behind his heavy wooden desk. “What do you have for me?”
“I have a story,” said Hux confidently.
He had kept the bottle and the letter behind his back when he entered the office, but now he placed them both on his boss’ desk and further explained: “I found this on the beach yesterday and I want to try and find out where it came from.”
Snoke’s scarred face was expressionless as he listened to Hux talk. It had taken Hux a good while to get used to his looks, considering how disfigured he was. Most of the left side of his face was sunk in and the skin stretched and glistened as if burned or melted. Hux had never asked him directly what had actually happened to him (he didn’t want to pry) and Snoke had never mentioned it, but his colleagues had let slip that he had been severely wounded when he worked as a war correspondent during the Bosnian war.
Snoke reached for the bottle first, turned it over in his hands, and then went for the letter. He looked just as serious reading it as he had when Hux had spoken. But Hux wasn’t really worried about that. Snoke was a fair, albeit strict man and an excellent editor with an eye for a good story, and Hux was certain he would let him do this. It was just the sort of thing their readers would go wild for. In fact, it was the sort of story that was so rare that it might make Hux noticed again.
“A message in a bottle,” he stated. “And seemingly a romantic message, at that.”
“Yes,” confirmed Hux. “Everyone loves a bit of romance, don’t they? Couple it with a mystery and I believe we have a recipe for an excellent story.”
Snoke nodded in agreement. “They certainly do. It definitely looks promising and if you manage to find the person who wrote it, it might turn out to be a very interesting story indeed.” He waved his hand towards the bottle. “Go for it. Do what you need to figure this out and keep me updated.”
“Thank you, I will,” said Hux, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.
With the bottle and the letter safely back at his desk, he started his research. He still didn’t have very much to go on, so he started small to try and find out more about the mysterious Kylo Ren. He pulled up as many public records as he had access to and meticulously worked his way through them, trying to find anything with the name Kylo or Kylo Ren.
There was nothing.
From public records, he moved onto social media, still searching for the name, but trying to come up with as many variations of it as possible, as nicknames could be a tricky thing. Letters were rearranged and swapped; numbers, underscores and hyphens put in where he thought it made sense.
He also tried to search for words and phrases from the letter (at one point he even typed in the whole thing), but none of it was remarkable enough to give him any useful leads.
At the end of the day, Hux was still no closer to finding out anything about Kylo Ren. Tired and frustrated at having come up with nothing at all, he groaned and slumped back in his chair, running his hands over his side-swept, copper hair.
“No luck?” Phasma’s voice sounded. She had stood up in her cubicle and was now looking at him over their shared wall.
He shook his head, sighing. “Not yet. I’ve only searched nationally so far though. I’ll widen my search tomorrow.”
“Good idea. And while we wait for tomorrow, we should go get a drink together. Or two. Or three. Whatever feels right.”
Phasma winked and smiled cheekily at him.
“It’s Thursday,” Hux pointed out, leaning forward on his desk again, rubbing a hand over his face this time.
“Also known as almost weekend,” she said.
“Not for all of us.”
Hux didn’t like to go out. In fact, he actively avoided it. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with Phasma, it was just that Phasma was a social creature who liked people and whom people liked in return. Hux was not of the same breed. Whenever they went out, it always ended up with him going home early and alone. Not that he wanted to bring anyone with him. On the rare occasion that he was chatted up, he would keep up conversation long enough to hopefully not come across as rude, then he would turn them down gently, excuse himself and leave before it got awkward.
“Oh no, I’m not letting you off this time. It’s been ages since you came with me. I’m forcing you, whether you want to or not,” Phasma ordered him. She had put a maroon knit cap on her head and was in the process of getting into her wool coat as well.
“But-” tried Hux.
“No buts,” she cut him off. “Meet me at Kanata's at seven.”
And with that she grabbed her purse and swooped out of the office, leaving Hux to throw his head back in defeat.
Hux made himself a quick dinner when he arrived home and topped up Millicent’s food bowl. He made a semi-effort to look decent for the night out, putting on a pair of slacks and a button-up, then walked to the bus stop. It wouldn’t be wise to take the car tonight, as he probably would end up buying a drink or two.
He made it to Kanata's right on time and found Phasma already waiting at a table, a glass of red in front of her. He ordered the same from the bar before he joined her.
“I’m so happy you decided to come out tonight,” she said after he had removed his heavy coat and scarf and taken his seat opposite her.
“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” he reminded her, taking a sip from his glass of wine. It was nice and round, not too bitter.
“Rey is coming, by the way,” she added, trying to sound casual, but there was a secretive smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Hux raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh, are you two official now, or-?”
Rey was a longtime acquaintance of Hux. She was a few years younger than him, but he had known her in school and when he moved back to Arkanis, they had gotten back in touch. He had ultimately introduced her and Phasma on one of these very nights out, which resulted in Phasma landing a heavy crush on her. And Phasma, who was usually so confident with women, hadn’t dared to ask Rey out, thinking for some ungodly reason that she was out of her league. Eventually, Rey had thankfully made a move, but Hux hadn’t heard anything more after that, and he hadn’t wanted to ask, in case it hadn’t gone well. He supposed now, that it had.
“Not exactly official,” said Phasma, twirling her wine glass in her hands, “but I think we’re getting there.”
“That’s great!” he said, giving her a genuine smile. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Don’t worry though, she’s bringing Mitaka, so you won’t have to sit here alone watching us being gross.”
“Mitaka?” Hux asked sceptically.
“Yes, you met him on my birthday, remember? Average height, dark brown hair, a little timid-looking,” she tried to remind him.
Hux narrowed his eyes as he thought back to Phasma’s birthday party. The description vaguely triggered a memory of a man a couple of years younger than himself that had seemed very eager to chat with him. “I think I remember him, yes.”
Phasma crossed her long legs, leaned back in her chair and studied him. “He was nice, wasn't he?”
“I suppose,” replied Hux. He had a very distinct, unsettling feeling that Phasma hadn’t asked Rey to bring this Mitaka just to avoid Hux being their third wheel.
About half an hour later, Rey showed up with a shy-looking young man trailing behind her. She smiled broadly and waved at them when she saw them, immediately coming up to their table, where she gave Phasma a quick kiss. Then she turned to Hux and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“How have you been?” she asked, her doe-like brown eyes sparkling in the soft downlights of the bar. “I haven’t seen you in a while."
“Oh, you know me,” he shrugged. “I mostly hide at home, avoiding talking to people.”
She laughed at that and Hux supposed it would have been funny if it wasn’t also true.
“You remember Mitaka, right?” she said, gesturing to the man standing behind her, who was patiently waiting for his turn to join the conversation.
“I do, yes,” he replied, giving Mitaka a polite if somewhat strained smile.
Mitaka’s face went from apprehensive to relieved when Hux addressed him, and Hux unfortunately immediately realised that his previous suspicion was correct: He was indeed there as Hux’s surprise date.
If Hux could have, he would have placed himself so he didn’t have to sit next to Mitaka, but that was impossible without moving his chair between Phasma and Rey. So he was stuck with this nervous man, who was clearly infatuated with him and who was indeed nice, but wasn’t even close to being his type - if he was looking for someone, that was, which he wasn’t.
The evening quickly became an awkward ordeal, with Phasma and Rey snuggling up to each other before disappearing from the table after a couple of glasses of wine and moving out onto the dance floor instead, leaving Hux and Mitaka alone.
“Do you want another glass of wine?” Mitaka asked him. He was nursing his third glass, his face slightly flushed at this point, and he had by now dared to let his eyes sweep across Hux’s body twice when he didn’t think Hux was paying attention.
“Oh no, thank you, I think one was plenty,” Hux turned him down as politely as he could.
Mitaka took another sip of his drink and then asked, “How is it going over at the paper? Are you working on any interesting stories?”
This was the point where Hux - if he wanted to - could tell him about the message in a bottle he had found and they could have an actual interesting conversation. But he wasn’t going to because it was a conversation he didn’t want to have with Mitaka. In addition, the romantic subtext could potentially be read wrong.
“I’m working on a piece, but I can’t really say anything about it,” Hux revealed without really revealing anything at all.
Mitaka gave an awkward smile. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s going to be good. Your pieces are always interesting to read.”
He was really trying, the poor man, and at another time in his life, Hux would probably have taken pity on him and brought him home to fuck him just because he felt sorry for him. But he didn’t do that anymore.
“Thank you,” Hux replied.
He suffered through another twenty minutes or so of halting conversation when he finally decided he just couldn’t take it anymore. It was only ten o’clock, but it was late enough to make an “I have to work tomorrow” excuse and leave.
“It’s getting late,” he said, looking at his wristwatch. “I should really get home.”
The expression on Mitaka’s face when he got up from the table was a mix of disappointment and desperation, and Hux could practically see how his brain was scrambling to come up with something to make him stay. Little did he know that it didn't matter what he said. It was never going to happen and it had nothing to do with him.
“I’ll see you around, I’m sure,” Hux told him.
He was fed up and tired, and all he wanted was to go home and sleep. He tried to wave goodbye to Phasma and Rey on the dance floor, but they didn’t notice him and he couldn’t be bothered walking over to them, so he just left.
It was freezing outside. The wind had picked up again and Hux pulled his coat tight, digging his hands deep into its pockets. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long for the bus.
He had barely walked two blocks, however, when a voice called out behind him.
“Hux!”
It was Phasma. He stopped and turned so she could catch up with him. When she did, she looked worried.
“What's wrong?” she asked him, brows deeply furrowed. She wasn’t wearing her coat and Hux couldn’t understand how she wasn’t already turning blue. "Why did you just leave like that?"
"Why do you think?" he replied sharply.
"This can't be about Mitaka?" She sounded surprised.
He gave an exasperated sigh. "Of course it's about him."
"What's wrong with him? He's a really nice guy and if you actually engaged in a conversation with him you would know that.”
“I’m not interested,” Hux made clear, pulling the collar of his coat up to protect himself further from the wind and perhaps to protect himself from the conversation.
Phasma eyed him warily. “You’re never interested in anyone.”
“No, I'm not,” he confirmed. He didn’t often get annoyed or angry with people. He was usually level-headed, but when it came to his love life, he was very protective and he didn’t like anyone meddling in it - even Phasma.
“Hux, come on,” Phasma said. “I was only trying to do something nice for you. I didn’t want you to feel left out.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” he told her firmly. “In fact, I believe I’ve explicitly told you not to do that. If I want to date, I will do that on my own initiative, not yours.”
Phasma rubbed her arms with her hands, the icy wind clearly getting to her now. “I just thought that you would be open to meeting someone new. I mean, it’s been four years since Poe.”
At the mention of his ex-boyfriend, Hux had to pull on every inch of self-control that resided within him so as not to scream.
Poe had been “the one”; the love of his life. Or, so Hux had thought. They had met and gotten together after Hux graduated from university. They were good for years and Hux had secretly started planning his proposal when Poe had - completely out of the blue - told him that he was very sorry, but he had met someone else and he didn’t love Hux anymore.
“I am painfully aware of how long it’s been!” Hux suddenly lashed out at her. His voice was vibrating and his body had gone rigid.
Poe had killed him when he left. Never in his life had he experienced pain so cruel and long-lasting as having his heart ripped out and trampled on by the person he loved. He had been a wreck for a long time, not sleeping and barely eating until he had told himself that he didn’t have any choice but to get himself together. He had faked it in the beginning, pretending he was fine, mostly so people would stop asking how he was doing. Slowly though, so very slowly, his feelings for Poe had faded.
At this point, Hux could confidently say that he was over him, but what he wasn’t over, was the hurt. That was still very vivid in his memory - ingrained in his heart - and putting himself out on the so-called market again simply wasn’t something he was willing to do. The risk was too great and he was honestly too scared at the potential of having his heart broken again. He didn’t think he could handle it.
Phasma stared at him with wide eyes, clearly shocked at his outburst. “I didn’t know you still felt like this,” she said, her voice almost a whisper now.
Hux shrugged and gave her a bitter smile. She tried to reach out for him, but he moved away from her hand.
“Have fun,” he told her before he turned and continued walking down the street. He didn’t much feel like getting on the bus at the moment, so he decided to walk home in the biting cold instead.