Summary: Kylo Ren/Rey, AU. When Rey Kenobi moved from London to New Orleans, it was to have a fresh start. A great job, a college degree, and a new relationship later, she's just about ready to forget her old life and put it all behind her. And then troubled rich boy Ben Solo pulls her into his orbit, and nothing is ever the same. M for sex and drugs.

Author's Note: Alternate universe, chapters won't be in chronological order. I don't own Star Wars.

Prologue: Wait

~Rey~

August, 2018

There was a moment, right before our lives went to shit, when everything was still.

Sun beamed through the window next to him, casting a halo-like glow on his face. I was somewhere in between awake and asleep, nestling my forehead even further into his shoulder. I could faintly smell the hint of last night's bourbon on his breath, mixed with his aftershave. It was early, the kind of early that called for a strong coffee and an alarm. The sheets were tangled between us, drenched in sweat from the late summer humidity. I could see the outline of his body beneath the sheets—two sweaty, bare bodies, pressed up against one another in the Louisiana heat.

Ben stirred, letting out a deep sigh as he did so. I cracked my eyes open, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He turned onto his side, exhaling, draping an arm over me and nestling his forehead against mine.

We lay in bed for a moment, both slowly coming to terms with the day, neither of us saying anything.

"Rey?"

"Hmm?" I replied, softly.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I pressed my fingers against his lips. "Don't," I whispered. I sunk even deeper into him. Don't ruin the moment. "Let's just be."

He cleared his throat, trying his best to keep it quiet.

I knew what he wanted to say. He'd said it the night before, albeit in a drunken stupor, both of us high on life and liquor and a number of other illicit substances. I'd seen it coming for months, even years—and for as long as we'd been together for and as much as I'd seen it coming, it was another thing entirely to hear the words come out of his mouth. To have him hold my face, in the middle of the street, kiss me feverishly, and breathe those words against my lips.

He traced my forearm, slowly, deliberately.

I.

I'd always known. I knew it from the moment I met him.

Love.

If only he could get his act together. If only he could be the man I wanted him to be—then maybe, things would be different. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard.

It was with that thought, right as he was tracing "You" on my forearm, at 6:47am on Saturday, that the cops burst through the front door.

"There's no end, there is no goodbye
Disappear with night
No time…"

- Wait, M83

Author's Note: check back on Sunday for an update. Let me know what you think in the reviews!