Kylo doesn't realise he's caught in the moment the meaning of those words falls into place until the burn in his chest reminds him to breathe— a shuddering tear between his ribs. He'd felt sure Ronan would say yes. He hadn't known he would say that.

And he hadn't known that was the real reassurance he was looking for until he heard it voiced and felt it pressed into his palm with the warmth of Ronan's cheek. For all his declarations of strength and the way he's framed the scene with himself as Ronan's guardian and keeper, Kylo's grateful for the low light hiding the way his face doesn't know how to twist in the stunned silence.

"Us," he agrees in a bursting rush, already knowing there's nothing he could say that could contain everything it needs to. But isn't us enough? He's never had one before. He isn't certain anyone has ever had an us like the two of them become.

He isn't certain he should be so desperate to prove it either— having found out that words were something Ronan was missing all this time, it's easy to imagine that relying on the physical now would be some kind of failing— but he can't make himself stop. He has to kiss Ronan. Touch him. Be inside him.

"Ronan," he urges hungrily as he presses closer still, already imagining the loop of his arms drawing tight as a noose.