[Happy and home are two words Kylo would certainly disagree with. As far as he's concerned, this is the only one he's ever really had... and he hadn't really meant to include anyone but Ronan in the collective pronoun. Our, he'd thought, was obviously only meant to cover himself and his chosen— and home is so much more than a label to put on wherever they find themselves staying. Home is a word like love— used far too frequently and cheaply by most, in Kylo's opinion. Home is a sanctuary. A welcome. A belonging. It isn't something that has to be endured.

But in his way, and to his understanding, Dameron isn't wrong. This planet is where they live, all of them. And while he certainly hadn't risked his existence for Poe and his network of friends, Kylo hadn't chosen to act out of pure self-interest. Padmé comes to mind first— his grandmother, long dead before he was born. His mother, still reeling from the loss of her obliterated planet. He'd wanted her fears put to rest.

Not that he'll bother telling Dameron that. What would it matter?]

I told you before. There is no truce holding me back— there are no sides, here. Not for me. No allegiances. None of it has any relevance to this world, to this existence.

[His gaze slips from Poe's face, over the dark stretch of the ocean beyond.]

None of it belongs here. What use would either of us have for forgiveness or apology, for what we did. For what was done to us. It would change nothing.
We have this life. Here. And we choose what we do with it.

[Kylo's attention slides back into focus. Dameron, so tightly-wound and determined. He watches his taut expression for a moment, fascinated by all the muscles under his skin pulling and tugging as if competing for control over the shape of the face he'll present to his enemy.

Or whatever Kylo is to him, now.]

I did what I chose to do. You owe me nothing.