Chapter Text
Ben was never good at words.
His fellow academy pupils found him unapproachable - intimidating. Tall, proud, somewhat terrifying. Making friends or even interacting with the younger ones wasn’t something Ben was interested in. Instead of holding time-wasting empty and tedious conversations, Ben found his own ways to push his body and mind to a certain limit - a point of no return that assured him he would collapse and at least get some sleep later that night.
Sure, to everyone else he was an intelligent, bright and very polite child. When it came to distant social interaction or formality, people would listen to him — mouth agape — astonished by his elaborate choice of words. For someone so young, he stood out as a very wise and discerning boy. He never had trouble imposing his presence or being a diplomat. His manners, his refined Hosnian Prime accent and the level and complexity of his vocabulary would always draw unwanted attention. People described the young heir of Bail Organa as a clear-sighted child, just how a Jedi should be. Members of the highest social ranks and important figures of the Republic found in the young Ben a dignified successor of the legacy the Organa family had built. After all, he was his mother’s son.
Etiquette didn’t help him sort the storming mess that his mind was.
However, his understanding crumbled when this strange and unknown emotion invaded him. The boy felt helpless and lost. Nervous, and perhaps, even vulnerable.
No one had ever taught him how to face…no... how to calm down when his heart beat wildly — pounding against his chest, trying to break free from its captivity. His fingertips ached for contact whenever his cold pale skin brushed against (Y/N)’s warm hand — lingering over her fragile frame — reaching down to lace his long fingers with hers. And when that blissful moment came, Ben sighed in content. The strange sentiment the girl woke in him was far from being something he disliked. Despite reminding him of the warmth his mother showed him, this emotion was entirely new to Ben. Every time the girl squeezed his fingers so affectionately and playfully — grinning whenever his hazel eyes studied her features — he felt relevant. Significant. Mightier. Cherished. Adored… Happy.
She was smiling for him.
But, no matter how well-spoken he was raised to be. Ben couldn’t find the proper words to express what (Y/N) lit inside of him.