Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters and elements from the Star Wars universe, created and trademarked by George Lucas and currently owned by Disney. I do not claim ownership over any Star Wars characters or elements from the Star Wars Universe. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is not claiming to be any part of the Star Wars canon. Thank you to Disney for letting me play with the characters and not suing me for writing them into a new situation.

NOCTURNE IN THE KEY OF B SOLO

by MALOREIY

~ Chapter 1 ~

Ben Solo stomped into the lobby of his apartment building, irritation pouring off of him in waves. As usual, there was no one around at this time of day, so he went straight to the rickety old elevator and punched the button to the top floor where he lived.

As the elevator hummed and sputtered its way upwards, Ben reflected on his agent, Andrew Snoke, and how much he'd like to punch his face in.

Snoke had been dissatisfied with the final movement of Ben's sonata. To be fair, Snoke was never satisfied with Ben's work and was constantly driving him to a higher level of performance.

Most of the time, the ambition suited Ben well. He was determined to become a concert level pianist. Despite Snoke having promised him that the goal was attained, so far the critics (and his estranged family) refused to acknowledge him.

The concert performance he was preparing for in one month was supposed to be his biggest one. It would be the performance to silence all the naysayers—to prove beyond a doubt that he belonged among the circle of Coruscant's elite concert performers.

It would be his first performance in Coruscant Hall, and thanks to Snoke's aggressive advertising policy, the tickets were sold out.

The problem was that Ben insisted on debuting an original sonata. Snoke hated the idea and was doing everything he could to sabotage the original work, in favor of getting Ben to agree to perform any of the dozens of complex classical pieces that he'd been working on this past year.

But the original piece was the most important part to Ben.

Distantly, he remembered his Uncle Luke's sorrowful face as he told him that he just didn't have what it took to be a concert pianist—and especially not a composer—in the modern era.

"You just don't have the heart for it, Ben," Uncle Luke had said, shattering all of his dreams. "You play with fire and intensity on the outside, but it's like you're dead on the inside."

Just remembering the mortification he'd felt at those words caused Ben to wince. Not least because Snoke had said something similar that afternoon. He'd used different words, but he'd said that Ben's final movement was too 'cerebral.'

He said it tickled and challenged the mind, but the audience would never love it. And there was no sense playing it if there's no chance for the audience to fall in love with it.

The elevator door dinged and wheezed as it opened, and Ben angrily strode down the hall to his doorway. The old wooden door was faded and peeling, but the wooden letters marking the door 'C3' were a glossy and freshly-painted white.

Maz Kanata, the building's eccentric owner, periodically made repairs and changes when she felt compelled to. A few months ago, one of the changes had been freshly painted door letters, but if there was much else accomplished, Ben certainly hadn't seen it.

Using his key, he unlocked the door and pushed his way in.

The late afternoon sunlight was on the wrong side of the building, so his apartment was dark. He didn't bother turning on a light as he preferred the darkness over the garish brightness of 1600 lumens.

Even in the dim light though, he could make out a square of white paper on his wooden floor. He left it there, stepping on it as he made his way over to his bedroom.

Arguing with Snoke and working furiously on his piece at the studios had left him cranky and sweaty, a common enough occurrence that Ben had a routine of showering and changing so that he could get some sort of relaxation in the evenings.

By the time he got out, his damp hair curling slightly at the ends, he was feeling much better.

As he passed the front door on his way to the kitchen, he hesitated briefly before picking up the white square of paper with the faint footprint on it.

He considered not looking at it.

He always considered simply throwing it away without paying it any attention, but he always read it anyway.

He always told himself it didn't matter, but since he always looked, maybe it did.

He shrugged the feeling off and flipped the paper open.

The messages were always on the same heavy stationery, but the design on each paper was always different. Today it was a butterfly motif.

His eyes skimmed over the short contents, and his lip curled reflexively in a sneer.

Ridiculous.

In one swift move, he crumpled the paper in his hand till it was a colorful ball, one untouched butterfly on the paper's edge mocking him. He tossed it on the countertop and set about making himself something for dinner.

Pasta seemed a good choice. The carbs gave him energy. Despite the fact that he spent a lot of his days sitting down on the piano bench, Ben was a font of pent-up energy.

When he wasn't at the piano aggressively challenging himself, he was at the gym working off his frustrations, and so he seemed to need more carbs and calories than the average man of his size.

While he waited for the water to boil, he pondered on the problem of his final movement.

Snoke had only agreed to let him perform an original composition if it was as good as any of the other classical pieces he would be playing, but so far Snoke was still withholding his approval.

Ben needed to play it, though. When he'd left his family's musical company, Pièce de Résistance, he'd promised himself that he would not come crawling back. He would show his uncle, his mother, his father—and everyone—that he could succeed on his own. When he joined First Order's ranks, he'd even changed his performance name to Kylo Ren so that he wouldn't immediately be connected with the prestigious Skywalker/Solo family.

Playing his original sonata at Coruscant Hall for a sold-out crowd, to an acclaimed critical reception, was essential to his plans.

He just had to figure out how to improve that final, pivotal movement to Snoke's demanding standards.

He needed it to be fantastic. Something that would put his name—or Kylo's name— on everybody's lips. Something that would make him famous and give him the power and influence he needed to choose the path he wanted.

But he was running out of time. With the concert only weeks away, Snoke's deadline for final approval of his program was looming over him.

He meditated on his piece once again, mentally examining its musical qualities as he stood at the counter and chewed his way through his pasta.

When he finished, he swept all the dirty dishes into the sink and cleared off the countertops. He didn't hesitate this time at the crumpled sheet of paper with the lone butterfly that winked at him, he just scooped it up and tossed it into a white cookie jar without even looking at it again.

Then, as the daylight faded completely, he sat at the piano, Snoke's advice swirling through his head, and attacked the problem with new fervor.

A/N: So this is completely unexpected, but here's a little short Reylo story. I love the Reylo ship, and I am in awe of the amazing Reylo stories that belong to this ship. I never intended to write for them, but this story came to me based off a post in the Reylo group by GemOfAmara (the post of which is based off a picture by Ned Dixon-with a dot between the two names-on Instagram). A big thank you to both of them, and now I'm so excited to be able to share it with you all.

It has 8 short chapters, and is completely written, and I'll be posting them twice a week, Mondays & Thursdays, here and on AO3.

Many thanks to my pre-readers, Crysania (for her insights and expertise regarding the world of classical musicians), Anirak (for letting me bug her at all hours to get her opinion on random details), and of course, my best beta, Brandinm05, who didn't bat an eye when I said, "So...I wrote this Reylo."

Finally, extra thanks to Kaarina Riddle who made the lovely cover art, which you can see on the AO3 version, or on my Facebook Author Page, Maloreiy Webster.

S&R: CONSTRUCTIVE REVIEWS WELCOME (CRW), meaning all reviews welcome, including constructive criticism