Full Summary

Fugue: in essence, a fugue is a contrapuntal composition which involves counterpoint, in which more than one musical line plays at the same time. The lines are independent but related harmonically. Creating that relationship isn't easy.

Saudade: The feeling of intense longing for a person or place you love but is now lost.

Three years ago, they fell in love. It didn't work out. Now Ben is the world famous Kylo Ren, concert pianist made famous by his blend of classical and jazz, and Rey is nearing the end her career at Juilliard. When circumstances bring them back together again, they're forced to confront the pain they've both spent three years trying to get past.

Chapter 1

Three Years Ago

Ben closed his eyes, his fingers sweeping across the keys of the grand piano. The tension melted away, the breath whooshing out of him as he played. He leaned forward, not even needing to open his eyes to know where to go, the keys an extension of himself, appendages that he walked away from each day, that he didn't even know he missed until he returned to them.

His uncle would hate this latest composition. The music turned severe as Ben let himself pour his emotions into the piece, his anger coming through in the harshness of the notes, in the furious staccato of fingers on keys. The severity acted as a balm on his soul. When he had no other outlet for his often overwhelming emotions, he could always count on music to provide him a conduit.

Why is he always trying to control me, control what I play? Why can't he see that there's more to life than Beethoven?

It wasn't that Ben hated the classics. In fact, he loved the classics. Chopin was a genius and the inspiration for more than one of Ben's own compositions. But Luke acted like they were the only music worth playing, that anything after 1900 might as well be punk rock – which for the record, Ben also enjoyed. He didn't care what the genre was, he just liked music, and it was frustrating to have his uncle constantly trying to corral his talent, keeping him from being his own person. What was the point of attending Juilliard if he was just regurgitating the work of everyone who'd gone before him? Luke should be helping him with his innovation instead of stopping it.

Ben finished the piece, the notes hanging in the air as he kept the sustaining pedal depressed, staring unseeing at the keys as the sound slowly faded. The song had taken the edge off his roiling emotions, but now that his anger was gone, he was left with the familiar feelings of inadequacy and loneliness.

Sighing, he stood up, walking over to where he'd left his bag, stooping to pick it up mid-stride. His mother was expecting him for dinner that night, a Wednesday night ritual that Ben would just as soon skip. He didn't understand why she did it anyway, since he and his father ate in silence while his mother ranted about politics or tried to get him to understand why Luke was so hard on him. He was twenty-one. Neither of his parents had been around when he was growing up, too busy with their careers, so he didn't really get why his mother was so hell-bent on spending time with him now. But if he didn't go, he'd never hear the end of it. He'd skipped out once to go to a concert and had spent the entire following week's dinner listening to a speech on the importance of keeping commitments. At the end of his mother's rant, he had pointed out that neither of them had kept their commitments to him for the first eighteen years of his life and stormed out.

He walked out to the sidewalk, planning to cut through Central Park. He probably should take a cab or the subway, but he had too much restless energy. If he didn't get rid of it, his mother would ask what was wrong and they'd end up fighting over Luke again.

Like any native New Yorker, he ignored everyone around him, weaving in and out of the tourists and slow walkers. He stuck his earbuds in and scrolled through his phone, trying to decide on a playlist. He needed something loud and obnoxious, something to take the edge off his frustrations – now returning. Eventually he gave up and went to his go-to loud and obnoxious band, Linkin Park. He liked all their music, but chose their first album. It was sufficiently full of screaming and rage, and the musicality was great. Ben smirked to himself at the thought of how annoyed Luke would be if he had to listen to them.

Crossing the street, Ben entered the park, walking with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. As he walked, he ignored everything. He supposed the park was pretty, but he didn't have the time or inclination to spend walking around like some first time tourist. Plus, he preferred the city over nature any day of the week.

In the space between songs the sound of oddly-played guitar music wormed its way into his ear, causing him to pause both his walking and his music. Generally speaking, he didn't care for anything but piano, but this person wasn't playing any way he'd ever heard. Looking around, he noticed a small crowd and wandered over, ignoring his mental warning that he would be late to dinner if he stopped.

He approached the crowd slowly, trying to figure out what it was about the music that was so unique. When he saw the musician playing, however, all thoughts of music flew straight out of his head as his breath caught. He blinked rapidly, his heart starting to race as he looked at the girl. She looked to be around his age and had her eyes closed as she played, seeming almost oblivious of the crowd surrounding her. The music floated off the guitar. Had he not seen the evidence he might almost have suspected she was playing an instrument with a bow, like a viola or cello. She didn't strum or pluck at the strings the way most guitarists did. Instead she simply let her hands fly across the strings, alternately plucking, tapping, and using her nails to slide down the string. The piece she was playing was so rapid that her fingers were almost a blur and it sounded as if there were multiple players. Had he not seen for himself that it was just her, he would have assumed that there were two or three players. The melody sounded as if it was in a minor key – though he didn't see her playing any actual chords – and yet the piece didn't seem sad, gloomy, or any of the other words usually associated with pieces in minor keys. It almost seemed hopeful. It was genius.

Ben took a step back, taken aback at his response to this girl and her music. Sure, her music was brilliant but there was nothing objectively special about her. She had medium brown hair falling over her shoulder, seemed to be of very slight build, and though her eyes were closed, he assumed they were also probably brown. Not that there was anything wrong with brown eyes – his own were brown - but there was also nothing special about brown eyes. Or brown hair. Or a slight build. There was absolutely nothing extraordinary in this girl's appearance, and yet he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He told himself he should leave, but instead he stared at her fingers as they flew over the guitar. He didn't know much about guitars, but he knew music and he was certain she was not playing actual chords. He wondered if she even knew how to play the thing properly.

Forcing himself to look away from her fingers, he took in other details about her. Her clothes were threadbare and ill fitting. She had a beanie on her head, but her hair had the dulled appearance of someone who'd been a few days without washing. He wondered if she was homeless and was surprised to find himself dismayed at the thought. He frowned, confused. There were plenty of homeless people in New York and he never stopped to care about any of them. So why this girl? Why now?

She finished the piece with a flourish, opening her eyes and smiling at the crowd gathered around, giving a hearty thank you to each person who dropped coins and bills into her guitar case. Ben swallowed, his eyes widening at the smile that lit up her face. It changed her entirely. She went from average to heart-stoppingly gorgeous. And he had been wrong about her eyes. They weren't brown. They were a vibrant green. Ben stared, mouth hanging open, feeling like someone had sucked the oxygen right out of the air.

She looked over at him, blinding him with her smile, and Ben, startled out of his shock, turned quickly and walked away.

Today

"Earth to Rey."

Rey blinked, looking up from her phone, which she quickly shut off and stuck in her pocket.

Rose frowned, concern etched on her face. "Are you ok? You look a little green."

Rey swallowed, surreptitiously wiping her hands on her jeans and forcing a smile on her face. "Yep. Totally fine."

Rose shared a glance with Finn, who was looking at Rey through narrowed eyes.

"Are you sure?" Finn raised an eyebrow. "You look like you're about to puke."

Rey glanced around, furiously trying to think of a lie. "I'm…just…thinking about my recital next week."

Finn's frown dissipated, but Rose continued eying her. Rey hadn't had problems with nerves before recitals before, so she knew the lie wasn't cutting it with her roommate.

"It's the first time I'll be playing a concerto. If I mess up, I'm screwed. I can't fake my way through it like I can on my own."

Finn took a bite of his sandwich, nodding. "Makes sense," he said, his words distorted around the food in his mouth.

Rose's lips thinned, still not looking convinced, but she nodded, slurping at her soup. "You know you'll do fine. You're a natural."

Rey rolled her eyes, leaning into the lie. "Everyone's a natural at Juilliard."

Finn scoffed, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me. I have spent hours perfecting my craft."

Rose snorted, spraying her soup. Coughing and laughing, she grabbed a napkin.

Finn put his hand over his heart, sticking out his lip at his girlfriend. "You wound me."

Rey watched them, unaware of the sad smile on her face as Rose patted Finn on the arm. "You're right. Saturday nights at the Rocky Horror Picture Show definitely count as honing your acting skills."

Rey let the sounds of her friends' good-natured bickering fade into the background as her thoughts turned to the bombshell she had read on her phone. She hadn't seen him in three years, hadn't even been in the same city with him for three years, and now he was coming. Sometimes when she felt down, she liked to play a little game with herself where she imagined she was the reason he hadn't returned to New York, that maybe he was as heartbroken as she was.

But she also knew that was silly. He had made it perfectly clear that his career came before her. Maybe he had been staying away from his family. Except, his family was still here, so why was he coming now? She knew they hadn't spoken for years. She and his uncle never spoke of the reason she had auditioned at Juilliard, both preferring to pretend that it was complete happenstance he had ended up her mentor.

Maybe he was just over all of them now. Maybe they all meant nothing to him, so he could finally come back to his home town. That thought made Rey's heart squeeze and her throat tighten.

Her chair scraping loudly, she stood up, grabbing her backpack and pulling it over her shoulder.

"Rey?"

Rey pasted a smile on her face. "I just remembered, I have to work on a composition for class."

Turning, she strode quickly out of the diner, ignoring her friends calling after her. She walked quickly, ignoring everyone and everything around her as she hurried to the subway. She absolutely could not cry in public. She refused. She had spent the last three years resolutely not crying in public and she wasn't about to start now.

She managed to slide into the train just as the doors were closing, flopping into the first available seat. She tapped her fingers on her legs, wanting to pull out her phone again, but not trusting herself not to start crying. Instead she practiced on her legs. She knew that stupid concerto so well she could play it in her sleep. She didn't need piano keys to play the piece. She probably looked like a lunatic, playing air piano, but there were plenty of those on the subway every day, so she probably just blended in.

It felt like forever before her stop, but when it finally arrived, Rey pushed her way through the crowd to get off first. She half ran, half walked to the stairs, rushing up them two at a time, hopping around slow people. Thankfully her apartment was only half a block away. She started running, impatient to get back to her room so she could fall apart in peace.

Not for the first time did she rue the fact that she lived on a fourth story walkup. Taking the stairs two at a time again, she hurried up each flight, gasping by the time she reached the top. She pulled out her keys, unlocking the door and tossing the keys into the bowl on the table just inside. Rushing into her room, she shut the door, lungs burning as she leaned against it, dropping her backpack to the floor and pulling out her phone.

She bit her lip, pausing for a moment before unlocking her phone and staring once more at the announcement.

For the first time in 3 years!

Kylo Ren will be playing in his hometown of New York City!

Tickets on sale now!

Click link below.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I've had this plot bunny for the past year and I am super excited to share it with you. I'm a pianist myself so it's going to be so fun to get to share both my passions, writing and music, in one place. Hopefully you enjoy it and I do justice to the scenes in my head.