Mugglelissa (_melodic_)

“Ben,” his mother announced as she put the car into park. “We’re here.”

He clicked off his seatbelt and stepped outside. Even the ground felt unsteady under his feet. Maybe he was getting sick; maybe it was entirely something else.

An hour later, Ben was getting restless. Uncle Luke and his mother were busy oohing and aahing at the pink wrinkled bundle called Rey and Ben still didn’t feel any better.

“Can I go to the park?” he asked, tugging on his mother’s sleeve.

She turned around and raised an eyebrow, taking in his flushed face. “Alright, but only to the one right out front. Don’t wander off from there.”

Ben nodded his agreement and rushed out the door. The burst of cool spring air was a balm to his heated skin. The relentless tug from before returned, stronger this time, and Ben nearly ran as he made his way towards the brand new playground in front of his uncle’s complex. He was halfway towards his favorite swing set when he stopped abruptly in his march.

Bright and vibrant, shining like a brand new penny, Ben’s eyes were drawn to the head of a reddish-blonde boy leaning against the slide. The sunlight reflecting off the metallic surface didn’t hold a candle to the dazzling shade of rusted-gold illuminated in the other boy’s strands of hair.

Ben’s feet moved of their own accord, like a moth to a flame, only coming to a halt when he was a nearly in front of the other boy. He must have looked quite a sight, eyes wide open and mouth slightly ajar. The fair-haired boy did not seem impressed.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked, mouth twisting into a scowl.

Ben dumbly shook his head but his lips parted all the same. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” the boy snapped, hands defensively smoothing the glowing locks.

Ben shrugged, a blush staining his cheeks. He toed nervously at a mound of loose pebbles. “It’s beautiful.”

The boy’s brow furrowed in confusion, but the look in his eyes softened ever so slightly. “I don’t appreciate being made fun of,” he replied stiffly.

“I’m not!” Ben protested earnestly. He took a timid step forward. “I--”

“Armie,” a woman’s voice rang across the playground. “Where did you go? Your father’s here to pick you up.”

“Armie?” Ben snorted, against his will. “Is that really your name?”

The blood drained from the other boy’s face. “Yes,” he hissed, anger filling his voice. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Ben chuckled, unable to control the laughter bubbling in his chest. “It’s just different, that’s all.”

The boy marched over, grabbing Ben’s shirt and yanking him closer. “I told you not to make fun of me,” he growled, fury glinting in his pale eyes.

“I wasn’t,” Ben insisted, a trickle of fear rising up his spine.

“Liar,” the boy spat, hastily letting go of Ben as he pushed him away.

Ben wobbled off balance and began to fall, his ankle smacking against the foot of the slide. He cried out in pain as he slammed into the ground, his knee landing right onto a jagged pile of gravel. Blood began to well up on his skin, slowly dripping down his leg. The other boy’s eyes widened, a flash of remorse forming on his face.

“Armie!” the woman’s voice returned. “Hurry up, your father hates to be left waiting!”

The boy’s head whipped around and, without a second glance back, he quickly rushed across the street and away from Ben.

True pain began to bloom in his injured knee. Ben’s vision swam as he watched the boy run away through a haze of unshed tears. He vowed to himself from that moment on to stay away from boys with shining copper hair. He hoped with all his heart to never meet that ill-tempered boy again.

II.

“And over here you can see First Order U’s library. Impressive, isn’t it?”

Ben rolled his eyes as the tour guide droned on about the first edition books the university's library held. Even his class advisor seemed a bit bored, stifling a yawn as he checked his watch every few minutes. Ben only signed up for this tour at his mother’s insistence. He had already picked out and applied to the art school of his dreams but his mother was adamant he should keep his options open. First Order University seemed a fine enough school, but it wasn’t really Ben’s style.

“Here is one of our open quads, perfect for studying out in nature,” the guide continued, arm waving enthusiastically at the open grassy field.

It seemed to Ben more students were laying out on blankets or playing frisbee than doing any actual studying. That was, except for one student.

Ben’s attention was quickly snatched away from the monotone tour guide and instead focused intently on a young man sitting on a bench beneath a tree. An intimidatingly large book was propped open over his lap and he chewed delicately at the tip of his pen as he studied it. What really caught Ben's eye, however, was the young man’s stunning hair. Gleaming in the sunlight, more copper than gold, the shining rays lit his vibrant strands to ethereal glowing. The shade was unique, alluring and oddly familiar. Ben felt a sharp twinge, a phantom pain of sorts shoot through his knee. He swiftly pushed the sensation aside.

A quick glance towards his advisor, tour guide and other students showed their attention was now fixed on the campus cafe in the other direction. Ben casually walked away, his pace increasing as he drew closer and closer to the young man.

“Mind if I join you?” Ben asked cheerily, gesturing to the empty spot on the bench beside the young man. He raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement, returning his attention back to his book. Ben peered over the young man’s shoulder, eye catching on the header of his notebook.

Armitage Hux

“Armitage?” Ben muttered under his breath. Why did that sound familiar?

“Excuse me?” the young man icily asked.

Ben raised his hand in apology. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to be nosy. Is that your name?”

“No one calls me that,” the young man huffed in annoyance. “My name is Hux.”

“Hux,” Ben said with a smile, liking the way the word rolled off his tongue. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ben.”

Hux sighed and placed his pen inside the book, partially closing the pages. He gave Ben an accessing look. “What are you, fifteen? Are you a professor’s kid or something?”

“No,” Ben bristled. “I’m a senior.” Hux raised a suspicious brow. “In high school,” Ben admitted, frowning at Hux’s answering smirk. “But I’m not some kid,” he muttered. “I’m eighteen.”

“Really?” Hux asked, a glint of interest entering his eyes. Ben’s pulse sped at the sight. “Eighteen you say?” He slowly looked Ben up and down, a considering expression across his face.

Ben swallowed roughly. “Yes, and I--”

“Ben!” Jordan, his classmate, rushed towards him and grabbed his arm. “You better come quick, Mr. Daniels isn't happy that you wandered off.”

“You best be going, Ben,” Hux chuckled with amusement. “You wouldn’t want to get detention, now would you?”

Ben scowled at him, not sure if he was angrier at Jordan, his advisor, or the gorgeous student--Hux--who had now returned his attention back to his book. Either way, it was a lost cause and he allowed himself to be pulled away and back towards the group, disappointment sinking into the pit of his stomach.

III.

The beer was cheap, and mostly flat, but Ben finished the last dregs of it before placing the empty glass back on the bar. He didn’t come here for the drinks anyway, and he doubted anyone else did either for that matter. Tonight, he was going to let loose and celebrate.

It had only taken several after-hour study groups but he finally passed his art history course. Now he only needed a few more credits and he would be ready to graduate for good. The music swelled and Ben let the beat course through his veins. The drinks might be weak and overpriced, but the music was always good and the crowd better. He made his way onto the dance floor, pushing past a sea of sweaty, writhing bodies.

Lights flashed from the ceiling, a collection of red, blues and pinks casting colorful shadows on the people below. He scanned the crowd, looking for a suitable partner to dance with, when he spotted a familiar sight. That particular shade of copper, the one he often dreamed about, now looking more of a rose-gold under the flickering lights, was right there, center of the room, body moving gracefully to the beat.

Ben’s feet moved quicker than his mind could process it, and he found himself right against the other man. Could it really be? Could this gorgeous stranger be the university student he chatted with those few years ago?

Ben’s hands went to the man’s hips, swaying in time with the music. The man’s piercing gaze settled on Ben, his eyes squinting as he took him in.

“Do I know you?” He asked, his voice faint over the pounding music. He didn’t seem perturbed by the stranger suddenly dancing against him, hips sliding together as his arms lightly draped over Ben’s shoulders. Then again, the patrons of his bar hardly ever cared about that sort of thing.

“Maybe,” Ben answered, leaning in to speak directly into the man’s ear. He felt the man shiver in return.

The song changed, the beat dropping lower and deeper. Ben moved with it, pressing closer and slotting a thigh between the other man’s legs. The pulsing music thudded in time with Ben’s hammering heart, his blood ran hot as the man moved with him. The man was slightly smaller than Ben, slender but with lithe muscles. Ben could just imagine how his body might feel beneath his own. He felt this thumbs press harder into the man’s hip bones, pulling him closer. Heat built between them, muggy air brushing against their sweat-slick skin.

Arousal pooled in Ben’s stomach and he leaned in again. “Come home with me,” he murmured, allowing his lips to brush against the man’s ear.

His studio apartment wasn’t far, just a few blocks away. It would take no time to get there, wouldn’t be long before he could undress the beautiful man before him, have him tangled in his sheets, panting his name, arching into his body.

The man’s pupils were blown wide, desire swimming in the pale green depths of his irises. Still, he reluctantly shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Ben’s lower lip jutted out, and he found his lips pouting of their own volition. “Why?”

A broad arm wrapped around the man’s chest, pulling him away and off of Ben. “Here you go, darling,” the intruder said, handing the red-haired prince of Ben’s dreams a drink. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long.” He gave Ben a smarmy smile. “Thanks for keeping my boyfriend company while I got us some drinks. I can take over from here though.”

Ben’s beautiful stranger shrugged apologetically and allowed his boyfriend--Ben’s stomach turned at the word--to bring him closer as they began to dance and grind together. Ben backed away, knowing when to admit defeat when it stared him in the face. He half-heartedly searched for an other dance partner but soon gave up the chase. He could hardly see anyone else when the lights kept shining on that head of copper, and those elegant, pale limbs.

The man continued to dance with his boyfriend, their bodies entangled on the dance floor, but his gaze remained fixed on Ben. That bluish-green stare, the color of the ocean, drew Ben’s attention to him again and again like the sea at high tide.

It was only with great will and a heavy heart that Ben finally broke their connection and, utterly dejected, left the bar to go home.

IV.

Ben pulled nervously at his sleeve, hating the restrictive feeling of the crimson button up Rey insisted he wore tonight.

“Stop fidgeting,” she reprimanded, swatting his hand away from his wrist. “You look great.”

“I don’t see why I had to dress up,” Ben complained.

Rey sighed and gently knocked her shoulder against Ben’s arm. “A button up and a pair of clean jeans is hardly dressing up,” she chastised. “Oh!” She pointed excitedly towards the door. “Look, Poe and Rose are here. I’ll go bring them over.”

Ben watched her bound away with a small smile. Despite his complaints, he was glad his cousin was here to help calm his jittery nerves. This was the first art showing he’d ever had at a real gallery and he was grateful to have his family and friends here for support.

Patrons had been filtering in and out for the last hour and, while a few did stop to glance his at section of works, so far none had seemed interested in buying. He adjusted his collar one last time, ready to approach an older couple who was perusing his collection of prints, when he heard a familiar voice.

“Art’s not really my thing, Phas.”

“Oh come on,” a women replied. “You need more culture in your life.”

Ben quickly spun around to follow the voices. An alarmingly tall woman with platinum blonde hair stood next to…him.

It could hardly be anyone else; Ben knew that exact shade of golden-red hair by know, could paint the color in his sleep. He looked divine--stunning hair swept back, revealing his gorgeous eyes and pretty face. The collar of his crisp white button up peeking forth from the rich, blue sweater he wore over it. His charcoal slacks were perfectly tailored, showcasing the enticing lines of his thighs and curves of his calves.

Ben’s mouth went dry at the sight. The man’s tall friend wandered off, leaving him alone as he moved slowly from installation to installation. Ben could only stare as the man stopped in front of his biggest piece, an oil painting he’d named ‘Strings of Fate.’

Collecting his courage, Ben approached him.

“Do you like what you see?”

The man turned slowly, eyeing Ben carefully from head to toe. “Not too shabby,” he replied with a small smirk. Ben’s face flushed at the implication. The man smiled again and returned his attention to the painting. “It’s beautiful,” he admitted softly. “I’m not well versed in art but the use of color, the red, golds, and copper it looks like…”

“Sunlight?” Ben offered, his pulse racing.

The man nodded his head. “Yes, it’s hard to explain, but it feels, it feels familiar.” He turned his head to study Ben once more. “Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?”

Ben nodded, stepping closer, heart lodged painfully in his throat. “I think so.”

The man’s cheeks stained pink but he held his ground, face full of curiosity. His gaze flicked briefly down towards Ben’s lips before returning quickly to his eyes. Ben leaned forward, the incessant tugging in his chest stronger than ever.

“Ben!” Poe tacked him from the side, slinging a friendly arm over his shoulder. “Look at the turnout, it’s amazing. I always knew you had it in you.”

The man cleared his throat and stepped back. “Oh, are you the artist?” he asked Ben, his voice oddly strained.

“You bet,” Poe answered, arm still heavy over Ben’s shoulder. Ben tried to brush it off but Poe, as always, was a bit stronger. “Our Ben here is super talented.”

“Your Ben?” The man said slowly, a look of disappointment flashing across his face. “I need to find my friend, excuse me.” He gave a small, sad smile to them both before turning on his heel and rushing away.

“Poe!” Ben hissed, finally pushing his friend away. “What the hell!”

Poe’s face wrinkled in confusion. “What? Did I embarrass you?”

Ben shook his head and sighed. “No, but I think you chased that guy away, acting like you were my boyfriend or something.” Ben craned his neck but couldn’t seem to find the tell-tale flash of copper amongst the crowd.

“I was just being friendly”, Poe replied apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’ll go find him for you and explain.”

“Forget it,” Ben muttered, patting Poe on the shoulder in a reluctant act of forgiveness. He took a steadying breath and did his best to shrug off the feeling of bitter disappointment. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”

V.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

Rey paused mid-stir, teaspoon caught between her fingers as she arched a curious brow at Ben. “Soulmates?”

“Yeah.” Ben nodded, lifting his own steaming mug and peering into the swirling coffee. “Fate and all that, you know?”

“I suppose so,” she answered thoughtfully, resuming in adding a copious amount of sugar to her tea. “It’s sort of a romantic ideal but actually I do think people are placed in our paths for a purpose. Why do you ask?”

Ben took a sip from his cup, hissing in dismay as the hot liquid burned his tongue. He glared at the offending coffee and set it down. “You know that guy I’ve been looking for?”

“The mysterious red-headed stranger?” Rey relied with a sly grin. “Of course I know, you never shut up about him.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Ben muttered without any real heat. “It’s been months now and nothing. I can’t seem to find any info on him, not from locals at the bar, not from what I thought was his old university. I haven’t seen him again and...well I just think if fate really existed it would all be a bit easier.”

Rey frowned thoughtfully and played with a stray sugar packet. “I don’t know,” she began slowly. “I’m not sure you can dismiss the workings of the universe so easily. Why should it be easy? Nothing epic in life ever is.”

As if to answer her musings the sky opened up outside with a thundering roar and rain began to pour onto the pavement.

Ben parted ways with Rey, waving her off as she jumped onto the cross-town bus back towards her apartment. Luckily Ben’s own studio was only a block away from their usual cafe and he quickly ran down the street, jacket overhead as a makeshift umbrella. He was fumbling for his keys, ready to push past the gate when a loud crack of lightning startled him. The slick metal fell from his fingers, splashing into a puddle before skidding down the sidewalk.

With a small groan of dismay he bent down to grab them when an other hand reached out, grasping his keys out of reach. Ben felt a jolt as his fingers collided with the pale, slender ones in front of him. That familiar clenching in his gut tightened steadily as he raised his head and saw the man before him.

Shocked green eyes widened, lovely lips parted in surprise. Unruly damp hair, a deeper red when wet, fell carelessly over a most welcome face.

“Hello,” Ben said, heart racing and face breaking into a startled grin.

“It’s you,” the man replied, a similar astonished smile spreading across his lips.

“Ben,” Ben helpfully supplied. He belatedly realized that their hands were still touching. He reluctantly let go.

“Hux,” the man offered. The name buzzed in Ben’s head like the lyrics to a forgotten song suddenly remembered.

Ben toyed with his keys, the cold jagged edges scraping against his nervous hands. “It’s raining,” Ben stated, immediately wanting to smack himself for the stupid observation.

“So it is,” Hux replied, amusement lacing his voice. He titled his head to look up at the sky. Rivulets of water slid down his throat.

Ben watched a single drop glide down towards his collarbone. He swallowed roughly. “You should come inside,” he offered, gesturing towards his apartment.

Hux gave him a bemused look. “I hardly know you.”

Ben boldly took a step forward, heartened that Hux’s response wasn’t precise a no. “But you do,” he said quiet but firm in the space between them. “On campus, years ago. You were reading that ridiculously large book, studying intently until I interrupted you.”

“That was you?” Hux chuckled to himself. “Of course. Of course it was. You were such a gawky kid back then, you’ve certainly grown through the years,” he added appreciatively.

Ben allowed the slight about his teenage self to pass, if only for how Hux was looking at him now.

“And then years later, at that bar. You were gorgeous in the crowd, dancing freely, warm body against mine—“

“Until my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—came and interrupted us,” Hux finished, recognition dawning on his face.

“And then at my art show—“

“I remember your art show.” Hux took a step forward.

“You ran off before I could ask you, before I could tell you…”

Ben leaned forward, letting the gentle movement of his lips complete his sentence. Hux pressed back into the chaste kiss, his mouth trembling against Ben’s.

“Will you come inside?” Ben asked again, brushing against Hux’s soft, willing lips.

“Yes.”

It didn’t take long after Ben recommend they both to remove their wet, rain-soaked clothes before the offered towels were cast aside and they were tumbling onto his bed.

Ben's hands sunk into those much desired golden-red locks, fingers tangled into the soft strands, pulling Hux closer and closer.

He could hardly get enough, even after his slick fingers slid inside Hux’s tight heat, even after he replaced those fingers with his stiff cock, even after he rocked inside, pressing into Hux as deep as he physically could get--still, he wanted more.

He wanted to bury himself inside, live in Hux’s blood, settle into his bones. The aching pull seemed reconciled, finally satisfied to be close to the object of his dreams at last. Ben watched the pleasure spill forth from Hux, his face twisted in ecstasy, and wondered if he, himself, could ever get enough of the perfect beauty beneath him.

The rain settled outside to a light drizzle, the gentle drops falling melodically against his windowsill. Grey light shone through the partially open curtain, casting faint shadows onto their tangled limbs.

Hux’s soft hair tickled Ben’s cheek as he moved closer, setting his head against Ben’s shoulder. His fingers lazily traced the raised scar along Ben’s knee cap.

“How did you get this?” Hux asked, sleepiness pervading his voice.

“It was a long time ago,” Ben replied. It was long ago, and yet Ben had never forgotten. “I was just a kid, visiting my uncle, when I met another child on the playground. I offended him somehow, something about his name, and he pushed me. Anyway, I wound up falling and cutting my knee. It wasn’t deep but pretty wide and it wound up leaving a scar.” Ben looked over and found Hux looking alert now, his eyes tense and brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hux pinched the bridge of his nose as if he warding off a headache. “I mean it can’t be…”

“Tell me,” Ben urged.

“I just have this memory of when I was young, at my mom's new condo. There was this annoying kid who stared at me for ages and then went on to make fun of my name. I—I remember pushing him and he fell. I always felt a bit bad about that,” he admitted sheepishly. “But, there’s no way what was you.”

Ben sat up, eyes glowing with excitement. “Armie?”

“No,” Hux shook his head in stunned astonishment. “I don’t understand, it doesn’t make sense. There’s no way…”

“Why not?” Ben replied, pulse racing with this new discovery. His chest grew tight with emotion. "Don’t you believe in fate?”

“Hardly,” Hux scoffed. “This was all chance, purely strange coincidence.”

“That’s not true. I think there’s a reason we’ve been meeting again and again.” Ben bent down to nuzzle at Hux’s ear. “I think we were meant to be.”

“Ridiculous,” Hux mumbled, but still he leaned into the touch. “You don’t even know me.”

“But I do,” Ben promised. He reached forward to grasp Hux’s hand and intertwined their fingers, pressing kisses like promises unto his knuckles. “I do.”