Dreams are elastic, timeless things— though it's possible this one is different, punctured as it is by Kylo's power, tethered to the outside world by the reach of his will. There's no reason Kylo should find himself stunned as Ronan moves, the dream shifting around them both until Ronan is looking up at him with clear, ice blue eyes, dropped to one knee. There should be all the time in the world for his reeling senses to recover, space to breathe and listen to the sound of his racing heart.

But there's only the words. The absolute unflinching truth of them, steady as Ronan's gaze. The devotion of Ronan's lips, the certainty of his hold where he takes his hand— the intensity of the dream fills Kylo's mind beyond capacity, quietening everything but the message of Ronan's intent.

And then there is no dream. Everything falls into the still, pitch-black silence of the Darkroom, where Kylo is leaning over Ronan's emptied body. Emptied, because that's the price Ronan pays whenever he tears off a piece of himself so he can carry it back with him when he wakes: delayed re-integration. That's the cost of the ring he's dreamt onto Kylo's finger.

There's a ring on Kylo's finger.

He exhales, slow, strangely ragged at the edges, then staggers to his feet. Light blazes in from the threshold as he opens the door, then vanishes as it closes behind him.