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“You said your name was Hux, right?”
Hux looks up from the stack of mail in hands. The man who just moved in to the flat next door — Kyle, or something — is holding a letter out to him.
“I think this is yours.”
Without saying anything, he adds the letter to his pile, closes his mailbox, and goes back inside.
—
The following week, Hux runs into the man again.
“Looks like I've got another one for you.”
Must be his father again. This time, he remembers to thank the man before taking the letter and tossing it into the bin on his way inside.
—
“It's got my address, but your name. You might want to let whoever this is know they've got your address off by a digit.”
“Yeah.” He tosses this one into the bin, too. The delivery address on the envelope is exactly the one he sent his father. Not a mistake.
—
“Do you want me to just toss them when I get them?” Kyle asks a few weeks later. “It's just that you always throw them away when I give them to you, and I hate to bother you over mail you don't want.”
It's drizzling, and Hux doesn't care to stay outside and chat.
“That would be great, thank you,” he says, and hurries inside.
—
He doesn't see much of Kyle again until another month or so passes. They're both checking the mail.
Hux flips through his stack. Bill, bill, spam, ads, Ben Organa-Solo.
“You don't know a Ben Organa-Solo that lives in the area, do you?” He turns to his neighbor, who looks rather ill all of a sudden. “Have you seen a ghost?”
“Yeah, um, yes,” he stutters. With his mouth open, he looks like an idiot.
“You have seen a ghost?”
“I mean— it’s me.”
“You’re the ghost?” That can't be right.
“Yes! Er, no! I'm— I'm Ben. That letter is for me.” He holds his hand out for the letter, but Hux pulls it to his chest.
“You said your name was Kyle.”
Kyle chuckles and shakes his head. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters! It's a crime to take mail that isn't yours, why would I give Ben’s mail to some guy named Kyle?”
“That's a fair point,” he shrugs. “But can you at least tell me if it's from someone named Leia?”
Hux peeks down at the return address. “It is.”
Kyle or Ben or whatever nods. “Thank you,” he says, seemingly genuine, and walks back to his flat, leaving Hux alone at the mailbox with Ben Organa-Solo’s letter.
—
When he doesn't see Kyle at the mailbox the following week, Hux resolves to just take the letter to his door. After two insistent knocks, he hears movement inside, and the door opens to reveal his neighbor talking to someone on the phone.
“That's twenty-two, yeah. Not twenty-four. Hey, Mom, I gotta go, I've got someone at the door. I'll call you back. Yeah. Sure thing. Bye.” He hangs up the phone. “Can I help you?”
Hux holds up the letter addressed to Ben.
“I just talked to her on the phone. I don't need it. But thanks.” He starts to close the door, but Hux stops him.
“Can you answer a question that's been nagging me?”
“Depends on the question.”
“What's your real name?”
“Kylo.”
Kylo? He'd even gotten that wrong.
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant. I changed my name. It was a long time ago, and I don't really want to get into it. Now can I ask you a question?”
“What’s fair is fair, I suppose,” Hux permits, crossing his arms.
“Why did you throw all those letters away without reading them? The sender had the same last name as you, so I take it that was family you were ignoring.” Kylo leans against the door jamb, a rather imposing figure with a rather imposing query.
“They were from my father, who has nothing worthwhile to say. I don't really want to get into it, either.”
Kylo smirks. “Do you want to come inside? We can get drunk and bond over daddy issues. And if you're a little bi-curious, I promise not to tell.”