(a/n: normally i put a gif here but this was just released today and he looks like a mf PRINCE so i had to!)

-

Then my hands find his face, fingers caught in his mess of curls. I'm enraptured in his comfortably familiar scent, the faint hint of caf pulling on my heartstrings as I hungrily crash my lips into his, reveling in the feeling of his rough, calloused fingers cupping my cheek, his other arm hooking my body in place which has collapsed into the warmth of his own.

-

I pull away after several passionate minutes, a task that seems to be one of the hardest I've had to carry out in a long time.

"I have to go.." I breathe, unable to meet his eyes, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.  I register the sound of his own heart pounding, and the regular feeling of the Force faintly rippling around us is instead buzzing intensely, especially in the space I had created between us. My fingers twitch, desperate to grasp his, to feel his rough skin on my own, to once again meet the warmth of his embrace.

I shake my head erratically, trying to push every traitorous thought from my mind. I have to get away from him, and that is the one thing I am sure of.

I will my lightsaber into my hand and clip it to my belt. I put my forearm on his hard chest and gently shove him out of my way, my skin tingling where I'd briefly touched him the second I remove it. I disappear from the room, marching briskly in the direction of my quarters.

Heavy, determined footsteps cut through the bustling noise behind me, and I have to resist the urge to turn around and punch him, demanding that he quit following me.

I wanted him to feel close enough to me again to be vulnerable. True feelings were never supposed to be involved. I have to do this, for the sake of the Resistance and fate of the galaxy. Yet, I have once again given into my damned impulses.

I use the Force to slam the door to my chambers open, mechanisms rattling at the impact. I fix my pursuer with a withering gaze before hastily stepping inside. I activate the locking code, despite being aware that it'll have little to no effect on him if he's determined enough.

And I know that he is.

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I attempt to calm myself down, eyes scanning over the room to find something to take everything out on. I clench my fists, knuckles turning white and collapse on my bed. I bury my face in my pillow and let out a frustrated scream, but it does little to help me. In fact, it only makes it worse.

Before doubt has the chance to cross my mind, I find myself curling my fist and slamming it into my bed frame. I briefly feel satisfaction at successfully making a dent in the metal, then the wave of pain washes over me.

"I'm the one who's supposed to throw tantrums here." Kylo's voice tuts, followed by the telltale thump of boots on tiles as he approaches me. I feel the anger for him dissipate, only to be replaced with guilt and the burn of self-loathing. I can't bring myself to look at him.

"Let me see." He says, softer this time, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down my spine. His bare hand enters my line of vision. I swallow, ultimately giving in when the throbbing brings tears to my eyes.

The skin of his palm is warm, if not a little sweaty, and I want to scream at myself to snap out of it as my breath hitches at the initial contact.

He raises his other hand, hovering it over my knuckles, and I feel the pain slowly begin to dissipate. I mask my surprise at his use of one of my little tricks, one I had learned from Master Luke when he had first taken me in as a child, when I needed to make the bruises and scrapes of a rough childhood on the streets disappear for the sake of the other padawans.

When he's finished, he lets his hand rest over mine, and we are silent for moments that seem to stretch on as hours.

Then I pull my hand from his grasp, ignoring the sudden coldness I feel at the loss of contact. I fold my hands in my lap, still refusing to look at the man before me, the constant source of my undoing.

"Hey, hey." He's whispering this time. My heart stutters in my chest, and I let him put his calloused fingers beneath my chin and move my head up to face him, finally.

There's something warm in his gaze which I pick up on immediately, something I hadn't seen cross his features since we were padawans. It's more than enough to set my heart to pounding against my rib cage, and it takes every last fiber of will within me not to kiss him again, then and there.

"What's wrong?" He asks, pouting his lips. Fire ignites my insides and I shake my head. I want desperately to look away, but he is absolutely spellbinding.

"Tell me, Lyra. Say it." He pushes, blinking a few times, his long, dark eyelashes drawing my attention each time they briefly flutter over the smoothness of the purplish skin beneath his eyes.

My fingertips graze his cheek and I pull back again, wanting to admit to him what I need to. Where is all of the strength I had been able to muster earlier, when I had resisted him?

I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale. I open them again, searching his scarred, freckled face.

"I don't want to love you. After everything you've done to me, everything you've put me through, I don't want to love you." I pause, letting the words sink in for a moment. I see a real, true glimmer of hope in his gorgeous eyes, and I can almost hear his low baritone mumble "but..." without him needing to vocalize it. Suddenly, I feel all of the encouragement in the galaxy to finish my confession.

"I don't want to love you, but I do, okay? I can't help it. There's not a single soul in this galaxy that I have ever loved as much as I love you, despite all of this. And some part of me, truly hates myself for it." I finish, desperately searching his face. There's an agonizingly slow beat of silence.

"And I hate myself for all that I've put you through. All I ever wanted was to keep you safe and happy, but anything I do only makes it worse. I don't blame you, Lyra." His bottom lip trembles as he tries to form the next words. "If you wanted to go back to Naboo right now, to leave and never see my face again, I'm willing to make the arrangements to get you there."

He looks down at the floor, and I know from the dread I sense rolling off of him in waves what he expects me to choose.

But I won't be betraying anyone today. While the offer is tempting, I couldn't leave this place. Not yet.

I extend my arm and softly cup his cheek, and his gaze flicks back to me immediately, surprise glinting in their seas of cinnamon brown.

"Kylo, I'm not leaving." I say, cheeks turning rosy. I catch the slight upturn of his lips before he startles me by engulfing me in a tight hug, and I hum faintly as I bury my face in his chest.

"My stars." He whispers into my hair as if to himself,  followed by a soft kiss to my head, and I have to bury my face even further to hide the elated grin that completely takes over my features.

-

i was gonna wait even longer for this sort of ~reconciliation~ but i realized that if i did u wouldn't get very much of lyra n kylo being cute together before the end of the book, which may or may not be coming soon (no i'm not hinting at anything it's still yet to be determined hshhs) so here ya go!

the original draft of this chapter was rlly dark and depressing and over dramatic (which is normal for these stories) so i'm happy i chose to rewrite it :)

also. i won't post any spoilers even tho i'm sure everybody should know by now but MY POOR BABY DAENERYS i'm still a wreck for her :(

enjoy the vf pic at the top, i can't mf wait for tros!!!

let me know what u thought of the chapter and don't forget to vote, comment and share!

-kait