Chapter Text
Brendol Hux Junior’s 18th birthday found him perched on a bench outside of New Republic Preparatory Academy, cigarette poised between two delicate fingers. He didn’t feel any different, yet somehow the day called for a small sort of celebration; hence, the rare occurrence of Hux allowing himself to indulge in a bad habit. A tender breeze swirled through his fingertips, whisking away the smoke that curled in tendrils from his half smoked cigarette. Hux watched with a sort of dull appreciation as the smoke fell in time with the air, waltzing away in a dance that was almost graceful.
He gazed over the green lawn in front of him, towards other students who seemed to be taking advantage of the amiable weather. Two young girls sat happily in the grass, sharing one of the surprisingly delicious cakes the academy’s cafeteria cooked up on Tuesday afternoons. Hux had contemplated going to grab a slice, before they were all gone, but then thought better of it. No doubt he would receive a flurry of pastries to his room once his acquaintances got word that it was his birthday. It had happened last year, and the year before that, and the one before that. People seemed to think that by giving him things, they would curry Hux’s favor. It was a weak-minded sentiment, though he wasn’t about to complain. He rather enjoyed sweets.
He’d nearly finished his cigarette, when he heard someone call out to him from down the pavement.
“There’s our birthday boy!”
Hux turned to see Gwendolyn Phasma striding towards him, wearing her usual half-lipped smirk that signaled a good mood. Her short blond hair was slicked back, a style she didn’t always don, but one Hux had grown to like. She sat herself on the bench next to Hux, and gestured critically at the small butt now burning itself out in his hand.
“Those things will kill you.” She said matter-of-factly.
Hux rolled his eyes.
“Really? I had no idea.”
Phasma plucked the cigarette butt from Hux’s fingers, dropping it on the ground and digging it into the gravel with the heel of her boot. Hux supposed this should annoy him, but he always found it difficult to be annoyed at Phasma, considering she was the most tolerable person he’d met in four years at the academy. In fact, he was rather fond of her, and didn’t mind her intrusion on his private birthday celebration.
“Anything from daddy yet?” Phasma asked in a casual tone.
“Card.” Hux responded shortly. “With money.”
“How much?”
Hux turned to glare at his friend.
“What does it matter to you?”
Phasma shrugged, turning to stare up at the perfectly white clouds above them. “I walked by your room earlier.”
“Oh?”
Phasma nodded.
“Got there just in time to see Lillian Telsh placing a very lovely cake on your doorstep. Pink frosting. Little white heart drawn on the top.”
Hux groaned.
“Christ.”
Phasma grinned. She was enjoying this, and Hux hated her for it.
“There was a card, too.”
“I’m assuming you’ve read it.” Hux responded tiredly.
“Naturally.” Phasma hummed. “She seems to think you’re the most handsome, intelligent boy at this academy! She wishes you a very happy birthday, and hopes you’ll text her sometime soon. She left her number.”
“Of course she did.” Phasma smiled smugly, and Hux tried not to think about the polite rejection text he’d have to send to Lillian Telsh later that night. Phasma would tell him to ignore the girl, but that never seemed quite right to Hux. He owed Lillian Telsh nothing, but the thought of tarnishing his near glowing reputation among the students at New Republic didn’t sit well with him. Most everyone thought Hux to be quite nice. He’d prefer it stayed that way, especially through his last year.
The sudden chime of the chapel bell pulled Hux from his relaxed state, and re-immersed him in the reality of schoolwork to be done. He almost sighed, an act his father wouldn’t have approved of. After all, education is the most powerful weapon a person can brandish. Or, so he would say. Hux began the leisurely stroll to class, Phasma at his side. Many students were starting to file into the building, through the red double doors that served as the grand entrance to New Republic. A few of them stopped to smile at Hux, passing polite nods to Phasma.
Hux thought about his schedule for the rest of the day. His next and last class would be Advanced Chemistry Laboratory, for one hour. He made mental notes on what would be covered in the day’s class, and what homework needed to be handed in (one personal research paper, already submitted online, and three more pages of notes to be checked for organization and clarity.)
Hux knew that many other students hated the fact that they were graded on note taking skills, and while he couldn’t help but agree the assignment was a bit stupid (Hux was of the firm belief that a person who wants to succeed will perform as such, regardless of a grade) though he couldn’t find it in himself to mind. Hux had always been a meticulous note taker, with impeccable handwriting and color-coded diagrams. His older brother used to poke fun at him, saying that Hux wrote like a girl. Hux, eight at the time, had remarked that he found it ridiculous his older sibling would assign the concept of gender to something as trivial as handwriting.
His father had smiled at that.
Phasma made light conversation with Hux as they walked down the hallway, the navy blue of their uniforms blending with the river of other students rushing to get to their respective classrooms. One particular boy with dark skin and a frightened look on his face rushed past Hux, bumping himself against Phasma’s shoulder in the process.
“Oi!” She shouted, grabbing the boy by the arm. “What’s your hurry? You could have knocked me over!”
Hux was quite sure the boy couldn’t knock Phasma over if he tried, judging by the fact that the he was about a foot shorter than Phasma and not all that muscled. Hux recognized the boy as Finn, a tenth year and a rugby player. Hux had seen him play at the last match, and noted that he was quite skilled for his age, and a good sport.
“I-I’m sorry!” Finn sputtered, small beads of sweat beginning to appear on his skin. He looked absolutely terrified of Phasma, who hovered over him like some ferocious roman goddess. “Sorry, Phasma! I’m just late for French and I forgot my binder and I really need to-”
Phasma released Finn’s arm, apparently annoyed enough to put an end to his babbling. Hux could see sheer relief spread across Finn’s features.
“Who gave you permission to unbutton your blazer?” Phasma asked sternly, though Hux could see the amusement in her eyes.
Finn hurried with the buttons on his jacket, and mumbled his apologies before scampering down the hall and disappearing amongst the other students. Hux turned to Phasma as they resumed walking.
“You know, your blazer has been unbuttoned all day.” He noted.
“You’re quite right!” Phasma replied brightly. “But he’s still young enough to think he’ll get expelled for having a spot on his shoe. Let me have my fun.”
“I wasn’t about to stop you.”
Hux bade farewell to his friend when they reached his classroom, a large space filled with state of the art equipment and comfortable chairs. Hux remembered his father talking about his donation to the school’s science department, noting that without functioning facilities, even the best instructors couldn’t properly educate their pupils. So, thanks to his father’s generosity, Hux and his classmates were able to perform experiments that other secondary schools could never dream of. One of the many perks of being a rich private school, Hux thought dully. For some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to be all too excited about it.
He took his usual seat on the left side of the room, at the lab table with a black countertop and sparkling beakers. He liked sitting next to the floor to ceiling windows, which allowed him to gaze out over the grounds and to the city skyline not too far in the distance. It looked particularly lovely on this day, the sun casting its inviting rays through the fresh blue sky. Other students began to walk in the room, greeting Hux with wide smiles. He smiled back in return, politely, but with no real warmth. He wasn’t particularly fond of anyone in the class, and would much rather spend class time learning than socializing.
The start of the period was marked by Mr. Antilles’s usual pace of the room, eyeing the open notebooks the students had placed on their tables for homework checks. As usual, he regarded Hux with an appreciative nod, barely even glancing at his perfectly formulated notes. They were only a month or so into term, but Mr. Antilles had already grown used to Hux’s constant efficiency.
“Alright, now to today’s business.” Mr. Antilles announced to the room, when he was finished judging their work. “Today you’re going to be getting your assigned lab partners for the rest of the school year. Now that we’ve covered the basic gist of experimental preparation, we’re ready to begin hands on work. We’ll finish up our discussion on kinetics today, but I’ll ask you to sit next to your new partner once I’ve read them out, so you can have an opportunity to exchange information. You may be required to meet outside of class to complete certain assignments.”
Hux was a little irritated that Mr. Antilles hadn’t mentioned they would be getting their lab partners previously. He would have liked some time to prepare himself to be forced to share a grade with someone else; though, at this point, he could see how extra time wouldn’t make much of a difference.
As Mr. Antilles began reading off the names of students in pairs, Hux grew a bit nervous. He prayed he wouldn’t be stuck with someone entirely useless or irritating; the last thing he needed were his grades to fall a year before graduation.
Hux caught his breath when his name was read.
“Hux, Brendol, your partner is Solo, Ben.”
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
Hux prayed Antilles had made a mistake. Maybe he had read the list incorrectly, or printed off the wrong one. Maybe he was having a stroke. Yes, that would have to be it. His teacher would have to be having a serious mental issue to think that Hux could be lab partners with Ben “Kylo” fucking Solo.
“Alright!” Mr. Antilles said brightly, as though he hadn’t just single handedly destroyed Hux’s whole year. “There you have it. Get moving!”
Hux could have strangled him.
He didn’t want to move. He wouldn’t move. He refused. If he was to be partnered with the single most insufferable person in the entirety of New Republic Preparatory Academy, then said individual could come to him. Hux was fine with being amiable when it was necessary or beneficial, but he saw no reason to do so in this situation. He had no desire to be any sort of friendly to Ben Solo.
After a few long moments of people shuffling around the room and smiling happily at each other (Ugh, disgusting) Hux turned his head just enough to make out a tall figure looming next to him. The figure pulled back the chair on Hux’s right, and sat itself down with all the grace and tact of a dying walrus. Hux did his best to stifle the groan that was beginning to escape his throat.
The person next to him (Ben Solo) smelled like bad Axe cologne and hair product. He sat quite still in his seat, but twiddled his thumb at something near his lap; Hux glanced down and realized his new lab partner was listening to music off of an old iPod touch, flicking through selections and not even making an effort to look as though he were paying attention to anything. Hux peered at the song Solo had chosen to stop on; A Trophy Father’s Trophy Son, by Sleeping With Sirens.
How fucking typical.
Hux noticed the hum of multiple voices in the room, and realized that the students were meant to take this time to exchange information with their new partners. Solo did not look as though he were willing to do any such thing. His head hung towards the ground, his long black hair falling in wavy tendrils over his concealed face.
Hux didn’t know what else he had expected. Ben “Kylo” Solo had become infamous at the Academy, not only for being the son of the school’s grand chancellor, Leia Organa, but for also being the most difficult person anyone had ever dealt with. He was friends with no one, at least no one Hux knew of. Solo spent most of his time in his room, a single that he had gotten, not for commendable academic performance (as Hux had) but because being the son of the school’s grand chancellor meant he received a few perks that other students had to fight for. Hux hated the fact that Solo could simply be given everything he wanted, while Hux was taught from birth that you need to earn the right to have what you do.
Hux had been classmates with Solo only a few times in his four years at the academy. He never spoke with him, and could only remember that the boy always sat at the very back corner of every room, doing his best not to speak or interact with anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. When he did, his words were often laced with sarcasm and venom. Outside of class, Solo was a ghost. Hux was sure that Solo’s room was in the same hall as his, though he had never seen him come or go. He had become a shadow that Hux, along with most others, were all too willing to ignore.
From across the room, Mr. Antilles stared at Hux cautiously. They made eye contact, and Hux was filled with an immediate sense of annoyance mixed with an all-encompassing dread. The look Antilles was giving him, a sort of half smile accompanied by two pleading eyes, said, “Please. Make it work.”
Hux knew immediately that being placed with Ben Solo was no mistake. No stroke was being had. Antilles had hoped, foolishly, that Hux’s unparalleled reputation for responsibility and an amiable nature could help to balance Solo’s…well, complete lack of both traits.
Hux wanted, for the first time in a long time, to punch something.
He refrained, of course. But the desire sat in his stomach, rolling around and demanding attention.
After another encouraging nod from Antilles, Hux sighed. Well, it would have to be done.
Hux turned reluctantly towards his partner, who was still hovering over his iPod. Hux noticed the deep red tie around Solo’s neck was loosened beyond regulation, and his shirt was un-tucked. Hux cleared his throat.
Solo didn’t stir. Hux realized Solo couldn’t hear him over the music no doubt blasting through his ears.
The desire to hit something rose again in Hux, growling insatiably, but he pushed it back down. It would have to wait.
Hux cleared his throat again, this time a bit louder.
“Solo.” He said sharply, hoping he had spoken loud enough, but also not quite finding it in him to care.
Ben Solo looked up, and his eyes flashed dangerously.
“Its Kylo to you.” he snapped.
Hux was startled, less by the remark, but more by the appearance of the boy in front of him. He realized in that moment that he had never gotten a very clear look at Solo Kylo’s face before. It was…surprisingly, lovely. Pale, especially in contrast to the black of his hair, which hung in graceful waves over his long features. His nose, prominent and well formed, complimented his rather plush mouth. Kylo’s eyes, hazel with small flecks of gold, practically twinkled despite the glare that he was directing Hux’s way. Hux fought back a blush that began creeping its way onto his cheeks.
Well, that’s unusual, he thought to himself.
“Fine. Kylo.” Hux responded coolly, reaching down to grab his phone from the pocket of his trousers. “I’ll be needing your number, then.”
Kylo stared back, a look on his face that reminded Hux of a lost, confused child. Hux thought, for a moment, that Kylo was staring, rather intently, at Hux’s nose.
Odd, Hux thought. There’s nothing interesting about that, as far as I know.
“Here,” Hux said, holding his phone out towards Kylo, like a peace offering. “Put in your number and I’ll text you for mine.”
Kylo seemed to hesitate, then took the phone, his large hand nearly swallowing the device whole. He tapped around for a moment, before passing it back to Hux. Hux then sent a text to Kylo, which said nothing more than “Hux”.
Kylo took out his phone and looked at the message. For some reason, he looked puzzled.
“What?” Hux asked, wondering what possibly could be wrong already.
Kylo turned to him. Hux caught a small glint in the other boy’s eye.
“Your first name is Brendol.” Kylo said.
Hux was taken aback. He had expected something a bit more dramatic.
“Yes…it is.” Hux responded carefully. “Everyone just calls me Hux.”
Kylo smirked.
“Yes, I know.”
Hux resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Then what’s your point?”
“I didn’t know you were named for your father.”
“Yes, I’m named for my father, so what?” Hux snapped. It surprised him, how easily Kylo had gotten to him already.
“My mother dislikes him.” Kylo said, as casually as if they were talking about the weather. “She thinks he holds outdated ideals, and that they’re a danger to the future of New Republic.”
“My father,” Hux began icily, “Has given more money to this school than any other alumni in history. You’re sitting in a chair he bought!”
Hux had no idea why he was defending his father so readily. Perhaps it was because there was never an immediate need to, at least not up until that point. He was more than ready to continue, but was stopped by Kylo, who nearly snorted with laughter.
“Wow, cool it, Hux.” Kylo chuckled. “I never said I agreed with her.”
Hux had no idea how to respond to that.
So, he didn’t.
The rest of class passed without so much more as a peep from Kylo, who had returned his attention to his iPod soon after Mr. Antilles began lecturing. Hux tried to pay attention, he truly did. But he found it difficult to ignore the presence beside him, one that had so easily gotten underneath his skin. Hux dreaded the coming months, knowing he would have to come to class nearly every day to be antagonized by someone as inconsequential as Ben Solo Kylo.
By the end of the period, Hux was more than ready to get out as soon as he could. When the school bell rang, Hux hastened with his bag, not even giving his new lab partner a second glance before exiting the room as swiftly as possible without running. He wanted to salvage any part of his 18th birthday that he could, now that it had nearly been ruined.
He weaved his way through the halls of New Republic, nodding politely to anyone who greeted him. Flowing red banners hung from the high ceilings, and the sun shone through the stained glass windows with a shy benevolence Hux found difficult to appreciate. All he wanted was to get back to his room and lay down, put on some music, and close his eyes.
The east dormitory wing was quiet, with one or two boys jingling their keys into the locks of their rooms. Hux reached his door, taking a moment or so to acknowledge the various sweets and small boxes that were left by the entryway. On any other birthday he would have been grateful, maybe even a little excited. The only thing he felt then was plain annoyance at all the thank you texts he would have to send out before the end of the day.
Hux unlocked his door before gingerly gathering up the presents, carrying them into his room with tired resolution. He dropped them on his desk, a sensible wooden mahogany always kept in perfect order. He noticed a small, pink cake with a frosted white heart drawn on the top, and resisted the urge to groan.
He didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, he laid himself down on his bed, the cool sheets welcoming and soft. He lazily grabbed at the small remote next to his bed, powering on his speakers and allowing his eyes to fall closed. Bon Iver drifted through the room, and filled the space with a melody Hux was quite familiar with. It was comforting, really. The steady rise and fall of the music aligned with that of Hux’s breathing, and he could feel himself falling away into a sleep that welcomed him with warm arms.
It ended all to quickly when Hux’s phone buzzed.
Hux sighed, and opened his eyes reluctantly. He reached down and retrieved his phone from his trousers, and with lazy flourish, unlocked it with his thumb. There lay a single text from Kylo:
I look forward to working with you…Brendol. ;)
Unbelievable.
Hux could feel his face start to burn.
He sent no reply. Instead, he found himself clicking on Kylo’s name, and viewing the contact information. And, with a petty anger almost unfamiliar to Hux, he edited Kylo’s name to something a bit more fitting.
Now the text read as being sent, not by Kylo, but by another name:
"Pompous Fucking Dickhead."
Satisfied, but not altogether happy, Hux tossed his phone across the bed and closed his eyes, allowing the music to slowly carry him into a much needed sleep.