"I loved Luke." That's not something that he doubts, but repeating it makes it more immediate and not like a thing that was true too long ago to be relevant now. He'd had to distance himself from his attachment to his uncle. The end goal was to eliminate the last of the Jedi, and that was him. Everything had been building up to that.

Kylo Ren wouldn't have been able to do it. His hatred towards Luke hadn't been kindled as carefully as the hate he had for his father.

"I remember." He doesn't move closer even though there's a draw to do so. His father had been more patient than anyone might believe possible, especially where the nightmares were concerned. Those things are still true—bad dreams, getting worked up right along with others. More controlled, but still there and with no one to calm him down.

A lot of the things that he thinks he remembers don't support each other. It's not enough to be torn between the light side and the dark side anymore, apparently. Now his memories are going to unravel, too.

That makes him move. He steps closer and reaches out to put a hand on Han's shoulder, actively seeking that connection.