#ignore fresh’s weirdly draw shades

[kawaiijohn]

Going Angst Week Day 2: Obsession

Ao3:  Here

WC:  1689

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The scenery behind the door was very... unique Quizz would say.  

“You know, if I wanted space I would just remove a wall.  A room suspended in the endless void is a little... extra, don’t you think?” They asked nobody.

There was a singular platform suspended in an endless inky void of space with a singular pathway to the door.  Nothing sat upon it but a desk- complete with a fancy looking double-monitor setup and roomy drawers underneath.  It looked sleek, modern, tempting.  

Quizz didn’t know why the single point of focus in an otherwise liminal room was so enticing, but hey!  The feeling in their chest hadn’t led them astray.  Yet.

With a shrug they began walking, their saunter turning into a slow but steady glide as they negated gravity.  “Well, only one way to go.  Down it is!!”

The monitors lit up with a strange logo- a devilishly smiling face with red shades and blue flames for hair.  Okay... that looked really cool, but... why was it lighting up?  They tapped the space key and a password entry blinked before them.

“I can’t even remember my name, what makes this place think I’ll remember a fuckin’ password right off the bat?  Sheesh!!”  He pulled the chair out and took a seat, realizing it didn’t need adjusting and was hella comfortable.  

Alright... he could work with this.

With a too-wide grin he began trying to unlock the machine.

-----

It turned out he could not, in fact, work with this.

Quizz had his cheek pressed against the desk, growling lowly at the password box as it flashed tauntingly at him.  It really didn’t help that the damn thing cackled at him with every wrong entry.

“Stupid computer.  Stupid amnesia.  Stupid Quizz... stupid stupid stupid.”  He pried his face off the desk in despair and slammed his forehead on it a few times.  “The fact that nothing seems to hurt me makes me think I’m just having an awful dream.”  Another slam.  “But with my terrible luck I’m in purgatory or something.” Slam.  

“Why is this so damn hard... Always gettin’ myself into so much trouble- way more than it’s worth!!  Gods mom was ri-...”  Quizz paused and thought.  “.... she was... who?  Who was... right??  ACK!”  They grabbed their forehead, talons accidentally scratching the fuck out of their face in the rush.  “I-I... why do things keep.  Leaving me?”

They took a moment to calm, thinking about it- thinking about the trouble they were in; lost and alone with apparently only a locked computer for company.  “Please, I... don’t want to forget her.  I just want to... know...” The pain in their head subsided as the thing in their chest thrummed violently.  “Who was she to me again??”  They had to remember, feelings of both nostalgia and love rushed over them, followed by a single, near debilitating shudder of regret and the gut-wrenching feeling of failure.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t enough... I couldn’t be there for you all...’

Quizz gasped loudly.  “I... someone said I get into trouble... it was familiar, but not angry.  Exasperated... and then I... I left them.  How did I leave?”  Their heard vibrated strangely again.  “I don’t think I left them willingly.  But who were... they?”

A happy, yet tired family sits at a table.  A single chair remains empty yet another day; a small plate covered in frogs sits on a placemat in front of it.  There’s three other people, smiling yet tired.  Pizza steams fresh in the center with two figures talking excitedly about something else.  They’re all smaller besides one more in focus than the others.  They look... older?  The image clears a bit more and reveals a stout woman with slightly greying hair and blank eyes...

Something clicks into place.

"Mom!!!  I remember mom- I think... but who are the others?  Kids, at least maybe?  Ah, what was her name- I can... Her favorite color was peach!!”  They readied themself for pain again, but none came.  “ Ah, so the initial memory sucks when I remember it!!  Noted!  Thanks brain, I hate it!!!”  They tapped their forehead and stood in front of the desk, arms crossed.  “Now, brain, my dear friend- can please you do me a favor and, oh... I don’t know... fuckin’ LET ME UNLOCK THIS FUCKIN’ DESKTOP?? Please???”

The monitor snickered softly at them again after a moment of absolute silence.

“ALRIGHT SMARTASS!!!”  Quizz slammed their fist hard on the keyboard, hearing something click softly underneath.  “There’s literally no need to get sassy with me!  So what do you say, help me out here, bud?  Please???”  They pleaded with the computer, but got a loud raspberry in return.  “Cool.  Just fuckin’ great.”  Another smack to the keyboard made something inside the desk click again, the sound of some sort of mechanism unwinding.  After a moment, a drawer (one he was SURE was locked) glided open gracefully.

Quizz perked up, ignoring the fact they were about ten seconds from slashing the monitor in half with their new claws.  “Alright!  Now that’s the shit I’m talkin’ about!  That’s the shit I’m fuckin’ about!!!”  They turned and saluted the blank space surrounding him.  “Thanks, weird void room.  Thanks weird asshole computer!!  I totally appreciate the help you gave me!!” 

‘Ah, sarcasm.  Never fails to lighten the mood.’

With nimble fingers the amnesiac started shuffling through the drawer.  It had several very... interesting items inside- weirdly shaped pens, a neat collapsable cane he was gonna inspect later, but the best of all was a pair of dope-ass red shades that they absolutely donned immediately- a feeling of pride and rightness filling them as they put them on.

They made it to the bottom of the drawer when their chest thrummed violently.  A lone binder, locked tightly, sat at the bottom.  They grasped their chest with one hand and the book with the other, admiring the intricate silver swirls and black glittering stars covering it.  Quizz placed it on the desk, noticing a small, strangely glittering key hanging off of a chain attached to it.

The room seemed to whisper directly into his mind.

‘Open it.  Inside.  Open... learn about... read... learn...’

With a shaking hand, they unlocked it and read.

They read.

And read.

Memories coming to the forefront and fading away just as soon.  Their eyes scanned words that would pixelate and blur as soon as they glanced at them.  Names and places, numbers and facts- blurred away from his sight.  

‘No.  This is not how it should be.’

A growl bubbled up in his chest as he kept reading.  Names were all universally destroyed, photos for the most part blurred out.  But categories- favorite places and things... birthdays and personality types- all of those were categorized neatly and nicely.  

Some pages had just a few, and those names were less obscured- some even with profile pictures fully visible.

Those pages made his chest rumble happily.  He couldn’t understand why.

But there were three specific pages that stood out.  Just looking at them... it made his blood itch, his chest scream in longing.

He needed to finish them.  If he didn’t... he didn’t know what he would do.  

He poured over the pages over and over and over again.

They all had information filled for the most part, more categories were finished than any other page had been, but things like the person’s name and appearance, as well as the photos were unhelpfully blurred out.

They snarled at the thought of not knowing what it meant.  

“Can’t make anything easy for me, huh?”

One was a page that was rather childish.  Observations were written but he could barely understand them- the letters scrambling before his eyes.  But he noticed something- it seemed the entry was cut short; the only clear thing besides crayon drawings of frogs said ‘entry cut short, just like their time with us.’

The second page was filled with pressed flowers- all different types of lilies and snapdragons.  Everything was written with a glittery peach gel pen.  They ran a claw over the script and felt a tear fall from their eyes.  The writing made them feel something deep and painful- the same pain they’d felt a short while ago.

Their eyes scanned the page, noticing a single clear data entry.

Favorite Color:  Peach

“This was... is this my mom?”

Upon saying that, the page become more readable- some smaller things filling out and the photo less ‘thumb over the camera’ and more ‘they moved while I took this’.

If this was information on people they knew then...

Quizz yelled as their chest spiked in pain, something overcoming their willpower.

If this book was filled with things about the people they loved, then they will... they are going to... uncover all of it- collect all the information and find them.  They’ll collect everyone interesting they meet- ask them... get answers, know things, know all things to... to - 

Protect.

Love.

Learn.

Know. Know them.

After feeling cold pins and needles consume their form, Quizz flipped back to the third and last page that had gathered their interest. 

The very first page in the book.

Their claw ran over the scrawling handwriting- admiring how the writer crossed their sevens with lines, how they looped their letters and underlined things for emphasis.  They felt nostalgic and hollow.

This page had every single category filled, but the descriptions were blackened out; like they’d spilled ink all over the page.  They looked it up and down but couldn’t find a single clue about who page one would have been.

With a sigh they grinned and noticed something peculiar on the inner cover- right next to the bio.  There was a single note, a single clue.

Password:  Page 5′s best friend.

Now that... that tickled Quizz’s fancy.  Page 5... that would be the childish froggie page?  Yes it was.  

Quizz felt the buzzing in their chest become steady, violent yet subdued.  It was telling them this was the right direction- that attaining that information would fill a hunger they didn’t know they had.

Interesting, this was going to just be... delightful.

[zadien]

Also when watching episode 52 this kind of came to me. An AU scene of Kai getting a pep talk regarding Dranzer and her disappearance and reappearance. Not canon compliant at all but fun to write. 

____________________________________________________________________

Kai woke slowly to the faint rhythmic beep of a heart monitor and the muted buzz of a TV. Blinking slowly, he took measure of his body. Still alive, sore but alive. A glance at his hand had him flinching while his other eye struggled with the fact that it was covered, the hard scratch and press of fabric difficult to ignore.

Bandages. Great. That would make beyblading—he stiffened.

Dranzer.

The grief tore through him, just as staggering and fresh as the moment he’d first experienced it.

He’d lost Dranzer.

A soft shuffle of sound to his left had him turning his head, the biting phrase on his tongue fizzling away at the sight of the girl leaning by the wall. Arms folded, ankles crossed, the flat look she aimed his way fair warning that she wouldn’t be scared off.

“Guess I’ll have to cancel the undertaker after all,” Amber drawled, pushing away from the wall and catching the back of a chair, drawing it over to the bed from the spot at the wall. “Looks like you’re no longer at death’s door.”

“I wasn’t dying.” Sometimes she could be painfully melodramatic.

She made a face that clearly didn’t agree with his comment. “You were two shades away from a decomposing body and you were slumped in a corridor. It’s a good thing I came along when I did.”

He vaguely remembered the panicked voice, the blurry glimpse of her face hovering over him, dark hair brushing his cheek as her fingers felt for a pulse. And then—

“Kicking the soles of someone’s feet isn’t considered a life-saving treatment,” he muttered, toying with the bandages.

“Got rid of the dead-eyed waif look you were going for, didn’t it?” She dropped into the chair and crossed her legs, sullenly watching him. Draped in an oversized denim jacket, she looked smaller and grimmer than usual. “Seriously? You need to look after yourself. Keeling over after a beyblade battle is not normal.”

He grunted but refrained from saying anything. She couldn’t understand. She didn’t blade, she didn’t know how it felt to link with your bitbeast so that the world melted away and each battle was a waged war. He experienced his bitbeasts pain, absorbed each slash and parry.

Which was why he couldn’t shake that strange feeling.  

He picked up his beyblade and studied the empty bitchip. Dranzer was gone but why hadn’t he felt her death? He should have realised how close she was to feeling but he hadn’t. Why?

“I have a thought about that.”

He lifted his lashes just enough to look at Amber without giving her any indication that he wanted her to elaborate. He’d learned with Benson that if you gave her an inch, she’d take a mile. And weirdly, he found that he appreciated that. He wasn’t the most amiable of people, friendships took more work than he was willing to put in and only the very rare or very determined stuck around enough to matter. Which suited him fine, he didn’t want to invest himself with people who’d just up and leave. If he had to have friends he wanted them to be worthy of it.

She shifted to curl her feet up under her body, making herself comfortable and freeing up her hands to gesture as she spoke. “Here’s the thing, you say that Dranzer left but I don’t buy that. I mean Dranzer’s put up with your emo bullshit for three years and she calls it quits now? I don’t think so. Especially since you won your stupid ass battle and didn’t actually die. Colour me surprised.”

“Is this supposed to be comforting because you’re failing, miserably.”

“No, listen. And stop being you for five minutes until I explain this stuff.” She took a breath and huffed it out, expression sobering. “Look, Dranzer isn’t going to bail on you.”

“She didn’t have a choice.”

“She’s already a spirit, Hiwatari, how can she die? And like everyone’s said, you’d have felt it.” She made a sound of frustration and shifted in her seat as if finding her calm. “Here’s the thing, bitbeasts thrive on belief. You believe in Dranzer more than you believe in yourself, so she didn’t die and she can’t fade away. So the only other option is that she left, which makes zero sense for all the reasons I already listed involving your emo attitude and the fact that you tagged her out for Black Dranzer.”

That stung. He studied his empty bitchip, alien and wrong, and wondered how he could explain things in simple words.

“I mean, what if she’s just waiting to rise from the ashes?”

He snapped his head up, felt his brain rattle in his skull, and frowned at her. “What?”

“She’s a phoenix, right? They do this whole Fawkes thing—” At his blank look, she dropped her head back to stare at the ceiling, spreading her hands, before meeting his gaze. “Harry Potter, Fawkes, never mind. I’m wasted on you. The point I’m making is phoenixes rise from the ashes. That’s their thing.”

Her words circled in his head, the myth of the phoenix slowly unfurling in front of him. “Dranzer isn’t a phoenix. She’s the vermillion bird. She gets confused for a phoenix but she’s not technically a phoenix.”

Amber pursed her lips. “Okay, yeah, that’s what Indiana said.” At Kai’s blank look, she squeezed her eyes shut and blew out a breath. “Ah, Tyson’s brother, the one with the hat? He said that as well but then we talked to his dad—”

Why the hell was she talking to these people about his bitbeast?

With an exasperated sound, she folded her arms tightly and made a face. “Newsflash, people actually care about you. Which actually is a newsflash because you’re a huge dick. But you were so freaked out about Dranzer, and the others were here making sure you pulled through, so I started asking questions. It’s what I do. Anyway, Tyson’s dad said that maybe Dranzer has become a phoenix. A proper one. That’s how belief and mythology work. People embellish tales, and then others share those embellishments. Before you know it, what a creature once was, is not what a creature, or bitbeast, is now. If enough people believe something, it becomes truth.”

Kai turned his attention to the blade in his bandaged hand and rubbed his thumb over the bitchip. Could they be right? Could Dranzer have evolved? Everyone thought of Dranzer as a phoenix, it was easier to let people think that than try to correct them. But now his heart trembled in his chest and a pulse of warmth echoed from the blade. He froze. The bitchip remained empty. Was that a figment of his imagination? Was he letting himself hope in vain?

He slid another look at Amber as she sat at his bedside, ochre eyes warm and earnest. “What if you’re wrong?” he asked, voice tight around the foolish lump of hope swelling in his throat.

“What if I’m right? And you’re just sitting here looking three skipped meals away from skeletal? If I were a phoenix coming back stronger than ever, I don’t know if I would want to hitch myself to Skeletor.”

Kai felt a fierce rush of something unnamed—something he didn’t want to define—and glowered at her. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?”

Eyes wide, she splayed her hand over her chest in mock surprise. “Me? Never.”

He looked down at his Beyblade and tamped down on the warm glow of feeling, the size of an ember all but burning in his chest. Heartburn. Probably because of the stress, he told himself.

He felt her eyes on him, studying him with an intensity that drew his attention and he arched a brow over his unbandaged eye. “What?”

“This isn’t the only reason I came. Tyson’s about to go battle Brooklyn, I figured you’d want to be there, moral support and all that jazz. The others are at the stadium already and since you’re awake and somewhat human-looking, we should probably go. I’m sure there’s a high spot for you to perch yourself on.”

He growled, clasping his beyblade tight in his hand and kicking off his blankets. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Tyson, that idiot. He’s going to get himself killed. Brooklyn’s not going to go down easily. Not after our battle.”

He stalked (hobbled) to the door and gestured Amber out the door in front of him. His teeth all but ground into dust as they emerged from the hospital lobby and into the bright daylight, marred by growing clouds in the distance—right where the arena sat— and Mr Dickinson waved them towards a black town car.

“Miss Benson, why are you not away yet? Kai! My boy! It’s good to see you up.”

Amber stood and spread her hands. “I’m sorry but I had to reanimate dead boy there. It took a while.”

“Shut up, Benson, and get in. We need to get to Tyson and the others as soon as we can.” He eased himself into the backseat on the other side of the car from Amber and pulled out his blade. Hopefully, Dranzer would return soon because Tyson would need all the help he could get.

[theindifferentdroid]

Bad Moon Rising: Epilogue [Modern!Kylo x Reader]

BMR Masterlist // AO3

A/N: I believe this needs no introduction. I think you all have waited long enough. Enjoy! (This is the last part of BMR. For real, this time.)

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,000+

The windows were rolled down in your car, allowing the warm, early summer breeze to flow in. Your music was turned up so you could hear it above the wind rustling past your ears. Though you had been working more hours than you'd prefer, you managed to get off early today. The crew was sitting around waiting for the sun to set to film some night shots, and your supervisor determined you'd be more valuable to them tomorrow, well rested. You gladly took the out. Making a last minute decision to treat yourself with some breakfast for dinner at the diner, you exited the interstate early. You knew where it would bring you, but you were over that now.

You had been this way enough now you knew where to swerve to avoid the potholes; you'd never let that happen again. And you knew right where Kylo's house came up in the route, always sure to adjust your radio or sneak a glance at your phone as you drove past. You had simply decided not to make your life less convenient because of whatever it was you had.

Today, though, you were distracted. By what, you didn't know. You may have just been giddy to leave work early. But soon enough you avoided the pothole and then...

There was someone. Someone standing on the sidewalk just up ahead, right where Kylo's house was.

"Shit," you whispered, as if you'd speak any louder you’d draw attention to yourself. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

Your foot subconsciously let off the gas pedal, and your car gently slowed down. Your eyes were transfixed on the person standing on the sidewalk, your head turning slowly to keep your eyes on them as you drove by.

Dark eyes met yours through your passenger window. Your car drifted unknowingly, far enough to barely scrape your tire on the curb, before you corrected violently, slammed your foot on the gas, and skidded away on screeching tires.

You gripped your steering wheel, your knuckles turning white. "It's okay. It's fine," you panted between breaths.

You weren't driving for another thirty seconds before you flew across the left lane to make a U-turn. As you sped back down the road, it was quiet, your internal dialogue disappearing, which was maybe for the best.

You made another U-turn a minute later, floored the accelerator and reached well above the posted speed limit until you slammed on the breaks in front of Kylo's house.

He was still standing where you'd last seen him.

You got out of your car and slammed the door behind you with a huff. Kylo stood unnervingly still on the sidewalk, even when you stomped up to him.

"Hey," he said.

"What the hell was that about?" you asked, ignoring his greeting. Your voice was high pitched and straining. Your face felt warm.

Kylo opened his mouth to retort, but you didn't give him time.

"You- you're just going to stare at me like that?! Watch me drive by-"

Your words were suddenly drowned out. A car rolled painfully slow down the street behind you, loud, incomprehensible music blasting from the windows, accompanied by some rattling of some part of the car. Once it had passed, a weirdly sweet smell wafted in the air between the two of you.

"Come inside?" he asked. His face held something hard to read, but his voice seemed sincere.

You sighed heavily, your jaw clenched tightly. This was not what you had planned for the rest of the evening. Not even close.

You answered his offer silently, walking past him and up the steps to his house, pausing at the door to wait for him.

It wasn't until he stepped past you to open the door and you stood frozen on the porch that you realized how nervous you'd suddenly become. You half expected to look in and see bullet holes littering the walls or Snoke lying on the ground where you'd left him. A nightmarish image flashed in your mind of what a body might look like after all this time, and your chest tightened with anxiety. 

Kylo stood inside the door patiently, no doubt coming to this realization himself. You made eye contact with him and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. "It's okay. Come in."

You took a cautious step inside and felt immediate relief. The furniture had been rearranged; the layout suited the space much better. The walls were patched and repainted, a shade different if you remembered correctly. The windows were open, and a comfortable breeze blew across the living room. It felt like a different house altogether.

He motioned at the sofa as he walked to the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable. Want something to drink?"

You took a seat silently, mulling over the question.

Kylo spoke up again. "Do you want coffee? I have coffee."

Just then the smell hit you; it had been diluted by the fresh air pouring through the windows. It was comforting. "Sure. Thanks."

It suddenly felt like you were going to be here a while.

A few minutes later, you were both seated on opposite ends of the couch in fairly awkward silence, interrupted by careful sips of hot coffee. Kylo eventually put his mug down on the table in front of him, crossed his leg over his knee, and faced you, resting his arm on the back of the sofa.

"You look good," he said, his voice calm and deeper than usual. Your hands were warmly wrapped around the mug, but you felt the hairs rise on your arms.

"Thanks," you answered quietly, before looking up at him. You had missed that face. It hadn't changed a bit. His hair was a little shorter, more managed, but it still softened the sharpness of his features just the same. "So do you."

His stare was stoic and silent. You tried not to notice the emotions you read off of his face.

He sighed heavily before running his hands through his hair and breaking the eye contact. "It's, uh, been a while."

"A year and a half," you quipped, your voice a little more biting than you'd wanted.

Thankfully, Kylo was kind enough to ignore your tone, and you wondered if he maybe felt the same way about the amount of time that had elapsed.

"So," he began, trying to stir the stagnant air. "What have you been up to?"

You cursed the loaded question, wondering if he was being nosy or polite. He likely didn't want to hear about the couple of months of therapy you had done. Or how you only just recently began to sleep through the night uninterrupted. Or how you haven't had the heart to so much as look at another man in the last eighteen months.

"I got a new job," you decided to volunteer.

Kylo's body language shifted, his shoulders drooped, and he leaned forward to grab his coffee mug as a distraction. "Did you get fired?" he spoke softly into his mug before taking a sip.

"Oh. No! No, I didn't get fired." You recalled how you had basically blamed that on him that night. Actually, you'd blamed a lot of things on him, whether he deserved it or not. "I quit that place about six months ago. I got a job at a small production company around here."

"No shit! That's what you've been wanting to do, right?" He returned his gaze to you again, and you nodded in agreement. His eyes were bright now. "That's- that's great."

"Yea. I'm basically just in charge of the extras. Mostly paperwork and herding groups of people. But it's a step in the right direction."

He smiled at you. You missed that grin. "That's great," he repeated.

It got quiet again quickly, your gazes falling away from each other. The next logical route the conversation should take would be about Kylo's job. You weren't sure you wanted to go there.

"I quit my job, too."

You looked over at him, but his eyes were fixed on a distant spot across the room. You didn't know what to say.

"Well, not 'quit,' but I don't to that anymore. I'm just an advisor, I guess. I let Phasma take over after, you know...."

You furrowed your brows at him, a slurry of emotions coursing through your chest. You didn't want to speak. Not yet.

"And I don't think I'll be doing that for much longer. She's sharp. She's got it figured out. I'm actually going to see if I can go to work for my dad. He - "

"Stop," you said. You were gripping onto your mug so tightly it was shaking, so you slowly moved to set it down. You stood up quickly and began to pace the living room. "I don't want to hear how you've changed if this is all just some ploy to get me back. It's not that simple."

"Y/N. No. It- It's not that at all." He paused. He gripped his hands over his knees, and you could tell he was restraining himself. A heavy sigh escaped his lips before he gently stood up and walked up to you. "I swear to God I thought I'd never see you again."

You bit your lip to keep your emotions at bay. And also to keep from telling him the same thing.

"I changed because I didn't want to be that person anymore. I had been around those people for so long, I didn't realize how fucked up it was until I had someone to show me." He paused to swallow a lump in his throat. "I did it for me, but if that helps me get you back - if I even have a chance - I won't complain."

He reached out a hand to you, but you could only stare at him as he towered over you. A shiver ascended your spine as his fingers ghosted along the inside of your bare forearm until he got to your hand, grasping it in his.

"I never thought I’d see you again, either," you said. His dark eyes had erased any sensible response from you brain.

"Did you want to?"

You closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but the feel of his skin against yours. You squeezed his hand and squeezed your eyes shut tighter, taking a deep breath. "I missed you," you whispered, an answer and a confession.

Kylo didn't move and didn't speak, so you slowly opened your eyes to look at him. His facial expression was endearing, a sort of relieved excitement spreading across his features.  "You did?"

"I did." You raised your free hand to his face and accounted for everything you had missed. You ran your hands through his hair - shorter but still just as soft - and twirled a wave around your finger. Next, you trailed your fingers along his jaw line while your eyes scanned to make sure all of his moles were still in place. His full lips depressed just slightly under the pressure of your thumb.

"I did," you repeated.

"I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am."

Your heart jumped at his words. You had always dwelled on the fact that you’d left without an apology from him, but it meant more to you now than it would have then, you were sure of it. A knowing, somber smile pulled at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm not going to ask you to forgive me. I don't expect you to. But," he paused and cradled your chin in his hand. "Can we start over?"

You felt the flush in your cheeks as his face crept closer, his breath fanning across your face. "I'd like that," you answered.

Instead of going for your lips, he raised his face and planted a long kiss on your forehead. You nearly moaned from the deprivation of his lips against yours, but figured he was right to do so. If you were truly starting over, you might as well go back to the beginning.

You pulled away slowly, gently letting his hand slip from your grip. You stuck out your other hand in between the two of you for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Kylo," you said, grinning cheekily. "I'm Y/N."

A deep chuckle came from his chest. "Please," he began, taking your hand in his. He raised it and placed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. "Call me Ben."