Here With Me
He's a cursed boy, weighed down by an inability to speak to the one he loves. His tongue won't move, his throat is clogged, and his lips are useless, so he writes a poem to you everyday. But you don't understand his language.
Kylo (you know his name because he signs every poem) presses harsh kisses to your lips, unfazed by his predicament. He feels that even without communication he understands you and, even if he doesn't, at least he has you. Simply having you is always enough. He knows your thoughts the moment you have them and he learns you through thin glass while you learn him through a brick wall.
In the wordless mess of tangled limbs and swelling lips, convergence inspires deep infatuation and you know you'd love him even if every sense was stripped from your body. With his skin against yours, you're molded and matched like hearts made for and sewn to each other.