Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Chapter one: Pilot

Ben Kenobi

The child had been born in the backseat of the car on the tenth of April. Covered in a filthy rag half ass used to clean the left-over blood off the seat.

It was vile, the act of leaving a newborn in such a predicament. Alone, she was alone, and it took Ben Kenobi a moment to think on a clear note. Rage, it bubbled through him like it had never done before.

"Hold on now, I'm coming in to get ya." He called, checking the doors to the old Ford Bronco. Unlocked, they were unlocked.

He took a moment to search his surroundings, trying to find the whereabouts of the disappearance of the parents.

It was three o'clock in the morning. Cold, too cold for a newborn. Rage heated his cheeks as he swooped in and scooped the victim up and into his arms.

The old man of seventy-two cooed instantly, the flashbacks of his own children skipping through his mind in waves of nostalgia.

As if on instinct he pressed her close to his chest, knowing the most important thing to do at the moment was to keep her warm.

Her. His little ray of sunshine in the darkness of the night.

Her pitiful crying ceased as she sought after the warmth, her frail form shivering, already pale and blue.

"I've got a report of an abandoned baby- i'm taking her to the hospital right now- over." His voice rung out within the night, cellphone warm against his right ear as he made haste to getting the child wrapped up in whatever he could find to keep her warm. Gently he picked her up against him, hanging up in the process, and gathered her up underneath his jacket, using it as a sling of warmth and stability.

He whistled to himself, a soft tune, as he gathered up his rage and churned it into worry on his journey to the hospital.

She was too small. Far too small that he wondered if she were premature.

"I got you now baby, I got you. Everything will be okay." He cooed softly. Overcome with the gift within his arms.

Rey

Papa was much older than the other's dads, and Rey felt the need to point that out one evening after getting picked up from a long day of elementary school.

She watched as the old man stiffen, an expression on his face she had never seen before. He was sad, and he had been very sad for a very long time now.

"I know baby girl, but that's okay. I may be old, but I'll always be here for you. You know, that right?" He kept his eyes on the road, on everything but the little girl sitting in the backseat.

"Even if you're sick?" She watched. Always watching. She had begun to worry about her pa over the past few weeks.

He seemed more tired than usual and slept more than little Rey would have liked. But she understood.

When you were sick, you needed as much rest as you could, so you could get better.

So, she didn't talk about it often, because papa was going to get better.

Even if the exhaustion rolling off of the old man's shoulders, was enough to worry her.

His knuckles turned white against the steering wheel as he drove.

"Even if I am sick, I will always be here for you baby girl."

"Always?"

"Forever. Even if I'm not here physically." He smiled then, his mood shifting. She knew it wasn't real, the smile only masked the worry.

She looked away from him suddenly and watched the passing blur of color as they neared their home.

She did not want to talk anymore, not truly understanding. Not wanting to.

As if sensing her thoughts her father chuckled softly. "You know your brothers called today, they wanted to let  me know to tell you that they cannot wait for your birthday party this weekend."

Upon hearing that, little Rey beamed, she loved her brothers, even if they were much older than she was. And never around.

But that never bothered the little girl of five.

"REALLY?!!!" She beamed, the thoughts of her daddy being sick forgotten for the moment, as they pulled into the drive way.

Rey

On the tenth of April, Rey stood, the rain pelting down against her as she watched her father's casket lower into the ground.

Her brothers, no where to be found as she let the cold morning of her birthday sink in, along with his last words.

Stay sweet.

2 years later

"You're leaving me you son of a bitch?! We just moved into this shit fuck of a trailer park and you have the balls to leave me here?!" The shrieking could be heard rattling off of the walls within the trailer.

Waking Rey up from her light sleep. She stared blankly at the dark spots on the ceiling, and fanticized them coming alive to gobble her up.

"Shut the fuck up Phasma!" There was cracking noise. A slap as loud as thunder. Then silence before the woman began to cry. It wasn't the first time, and Rey assumed it wouldn't be the last.

"I moved here for you. I thought you loved me, but you're leaving me with the girl- arent you?! She doesn't even speak Plutt!!! How do you expect me to keep her alive when I don't even know what the hell she wants?!" It was an angry sort of sobbing sound, something ugly burned into the soundtrack of one's mind when left stretched thin within the darkness.

Rey contemplated the time, and estimated it was somewhere either around twelve or two in the morning.

She decided she couldn't take it anymore.

"Let her die, I don't care Phasma. I can't stand her to begin with, the damn thing doesn't even eat."

"Maybe it has something to do with the bitch you were married to before me!!!"

" Don't you dare talk about her..." A crash, something shattering. Rey assumed it was a dish collapsing against a wall.

She pulled herself up out of the bed, the white nightgown she favored, falling around her knees as she decided it served to be comfortable enough for a night walk.

Her feet carried her to the small window across the room. Her small nimble fingers pulling it open with force, before she stuck her face out into the night air, she always thought there was something meaningful about opening windows. It was like a process of expelling the badness within the room.

It was exhilarating.

It was the third night being in the new town, and she had yet to properly explore it.

So, she slipped into the darkness of the night.

Within minutes she was walking alongside the highway.

Following the path of the moonlight, trying to regain the information on the whereabouts of the corn field, she had scoped out from the back seat of Plutt's old station wagon.

The corn fields.

Something appealing that she had never seen from living in the city almost all her life.

Rey decided she quite liked the darkness of the country side, for the stars were much brighter. They seemed to watch after her, as she knit picked her way.

It was mid- July, and the magic in the air crackled with a newborn electricity.

Tonight,  tonight would be a special- she decided.

Even at eight years old, Rey couldn't help but believe in miracles.

Stay sweet.

 His voice echoed through her brain at least once a day, carving out the hollowness within her chest.

The deep longing of wanting to be loved.

It felt like it had been hours before she finally reached the field. Completely thankful that it had been stored to the back of her mind for the nights like this.

Nights where she could just be herself.

 Which had been few and far in between back in the city. 

Just as she reached the edge of the corner, the first vehicle of the night appeared.

One headlight, a deep rumble eating up the pavement underneath it. She watched with wonder as the headlight neared the cross section of the highway, before completely ignoring the red glare of the stop sign before it came barreling through.

The metallic creature washed her in an eerie glow as it neared closer, flying at an alarming speed in which made her tiny heart ricochet off of the walls of her chest.

She was off the road, she knew the protocol, and yet she still felt as if she were imposing on something otherworldly.

That was when it happened. Quick. The rumble turned into a loud screech of metal against pavement. Followed by an eerie silence. As if the world had stopped everything it was doing to watch the spectra.

She took off running in the direction of the incident. Hardly coming to terms with the instant replay of someone being thrown from their vehicle like some twisted rag doll.

The person had landed just on the edge where pavement met the soft padding of the grass.

A string of curses engulfed the air, pulling her forwards like a moth to a flame.

"Are you alright?" She called, her voice suddenly strange and out of breath. Are you alright being first three words spoken in the past two years.

The person was face first into the soft grass, but she knew from gaining ground that the person was in fact a man. A man with a leather jacket shredded down to ribbons that barely clung to his broad frame.

He groaned, a deep guttural sound, before rolling over to his back.

The moon cast a soft glow upon his face.

Her heart began to thump wildly within her chest.

She did not know whether or not to run and forget it happened. Or to try, in some way, to help. Even though she knew nothing about what to do.

"Are you real?" a grumble that could identify as a voice, much deeper than she could have ever imagined, claimed her attention as she peered at the man.

 The man, much more of a kid now that she was seeing him up close.

He watched her through the tresses of bloody hair which clung to his cheek bones like black tendrils.

The right side of his face puckered, swollen and bloody.

Everything happened in fragments. 

Every breath collected, and embodied.

A large hand reached out to touch her, but was ripped back with a jolt as the man hissed in pain.

His fingertips merely inches from grazing her cheek, which burned at the almost brief encounter.

She did not like being touched, but the curiosity swelled within her as she wondered what it would be like if he were to touch her.

This peculiar stranger bleeding out in front of her.

"You are real. Holy shit." He murmered. " I thought you were some..." A ugly whine wheezed from him for a few heart breaking moments, before she realized it was him laughing to himself.

The stranger took his left hand and reached up to his face out of curiosity, feeling the deep grooves of the skin that had been marred.

Blood. So much blood. It smeared against his fingertips in a way that should have made her frightened.

But instead she stood still, within a trance.

"Ah, hey, darling. Can you...can you call for help? Do you know how to call for help?" A soft nurturing tone enveloped the air around them, and she could feel herself get sucked in.

It had been too long, much too long since someone talked to her in such a way.

Trembling, she nodded.

He gulped, his Adams apple bobbing before a cough ruptured through him.

Blood, black against his teeth as he tried to reassure her.

"I think I fucked up my right arm really good- hun, can you get my phone from my pocket and check to see if it even works?" He was slipping, and she could tell he was swimming on the edge of unconsciousness.

Something she had read up on, in the old science books she had stolen from the local library in the last town.

She went to work, getting much closer to him than she would have ever dared with any human being.

She fished out his phone quickly, ignoring the soft curses spilling from his lips from the pain.

"Im so stupid." He gritted, his eyes closed. And for a moment, it looked as if he were swimming in the moon's glow.

The image ingrained itself into her mind.

She touched his cheek, the good cheek, hoping that he was still with her. Warm and soft, wet with his blood that stained her fingertips.

She was too entranced to notice the dark eyes peeking up through thick eyelashes.

When she did notice, she flinched away, burned from being caught.

She dialed 911.

After ending the call, he dropped the phone which cracked against the edge of the sidewalk. Bouncing awkwardly only to get lost in the long grass beside his head.

He lied there looking up at the stars. Basking in silence.

She took a moment to sit next to him and do the same, the stars twinkling as if they knew a secret. Giddy, old and new as they watched the two strangers side by side.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable, not like it usually was with someone.

She was so unsure but knew that whatever was happening. It was okay. That the man beside her was okay.

"What's your name?" His voice crackled, a distant fire remembered by young Rey, on a camping trip from a past life.

The wreck was finally taking its toll on the stranger next to her.

And as the faraway wail of a siren breeched her ears.

She hummed.

"Rey."

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Unlikely Places

Kylo

Two months.

Two. 

The carelessness that clung to the washed out memory of the wreck all those nights ago, stung at him with shame and curiosity. 

He had been too drunk that night. Stupid drunk enough to be pushing his motorbike, but not drunk enough to imagine what he did. 

An angel. He was sure he saw one. 

Wrapped up in white, with a face so hauntingly innocent, he was sure an angel had come to collect him and make him pay for his sins.

No, it was just a child. The realization triggering the part of him that knew how bad it was for a little girl to be walking on the side of the road at night- especially by herself. 

The thought never left his mind, and after patching up his bike, he began driving by old Alien's corn field, every day,  out of hopes of meeting her again.

To scold her for being ignorant to ways of people, or to thank her for saving his stupid ass. Either of them would do fine, but when it came down to it- he just wanted to see her again. 

 To make sure he did not scare her. 

He remembered her reaction, like a curious cat- not at all of that of a child merely witnessing an almost fatal accident.

He grumbled to himself; a mad man on a motorcycle riding in the night, basking within the moment. Thinking about how two months since that night, his mind was still stuck on some random child on the side of the road.

Strange.

His fingers tightened on the throttle and his body instinctually flattened itself against the body of the bike. Laying into the machine which hummed underneath him, a soft purr coaxing out the lunatic.

After bleeding out on the side of the road, would only lead to someone never touching their motorcycle again out of the fear of death. The anxiety that should have come- didn't. And if the racing of his heart told him anything, it told him to ride.

He didn't fear death, and he had not been afraid in a long time.

And maybe it was something about the Scrambler- with her coat of a deep onyx, that slipped through the dead of the night on highways. He just couldn't live without it.

One could even say that he was more thankful he got banged up than his ole girl. 

The field came into view, and he let up on the throttle. Slowing down enough to observe.

Rey.

If he had the time to stop, he would've, but he looked anyways. Running the stop sign out of a notorious habit.

 His second boss had been pissed. Threatening to come to the hospital to beat his ass for getting into a wreck so close to the operation.

That man was cooking up some bad shit that night.

He made up for it later, doing a nasty side job by going to Florida to kick some kid's teeth in. 

Snoke had accepted the apology, handing over the blood money. Enough money to satisfy any seventeen year old fool.

And Kylo was in fact: a fool, a fool for ever getting tied up in Snoke's web.

 Scatterbrained and numb, he pursued the road.

It was a straight shot, then a sharp left onto a mangy dirt road to the Happy Hollow trailer park. A small town trailer park dead set in the middle of no where. The only thing within a ten mile radius was a shitty gas station, and Ben's small cottage house.

He lived too close. A good twenty minutes too close.

The town itself was a good forty five minutes out, and consisted of his true job. The job he nursed proudly as a mechanic for the old man Joe.

Joe practically took Ben under his wing, fed him, housed him, and taught him the rules of his trade. All of it- if Ben could help maintain the shop and keep it running.

"Boy, you're too young to be mixed up in that mess."

He saw the turn and let up off of the throttle enough to slow down, and rolled onto the road with caution. For once.

The Scrambler whined from the sudden transition from pavement to the fleshy dirt.

He was still thinking about Joe when he turned into the entrance of the trailer park. Winding down, dodging the pot holes, as he edged through the first section. His girl growling underneath him as he pushed her along at a slow crawl.

 Nine o'clock pm at Happy Hollows trailer park in south Georgia, was enough to put anyone to the bottle. Especially within the summer nights, because it was as if the park itself never slept.

The place opened up before him as if he were apart of the community.

Because everyone knew who the kid on the Scrambler was.

And they knew exactly what he was there for.

He continued inwards, winding in, turning into the back side of the park more dense with trees. Finding the trailer furthest away, hidden behind two massive oaks that dipped their branches low to the ground.

With the looks of it, a party was in session, but Ben knew better. 

Half of the crew was about a mile deep in the woods cooking up a new batch, In a shitty storage shed.

He pulled to the stop and parked the bike.

His attention flitting to the small group of kids, three boys, fighting over a tire swing. They barely acknowledged his existence, or his arrival. No, he was just like the many others to show up. He was a nobody.

Something twisted in his gut, and for a second as he climbed off of the motorbike, he believed it to be jealousy. 

Jealousy over their ignorance.

Hatred for the fact that he wasn't saving them from these people.

He worked his jaw, chewing at the insides of his cheek as he began walking. Worn work boots kicking up dust with their heavy thuds.

No one came out to greet him, no one waited for him, no one cared. And yet everything appeared to be just like any other family house. Kids in the front yard, toys scattered around the front lawn, the steady thrum of music.

The perfect cover.

 He entertained the idea of just climbing right back on the bike and driving home. But he needed the money, he needed a buzz, maybe if he got lucky someone would feel sorry enough for him and give him a pity fuck.

Loneliness reared it's ugly head.

The light just above the door buzzed, diming or flickering every time the music would vibrate the walls of the house.

Just as he was about to grab the handle, the door opened to reveal the man himself. 

Snoke.

The older man swayed, a woman on his hip clutching at him as if he were something holy.

"Kylo, my boy!!" The man's only good eye twinkled from the bulb above the door. His five o'clock shadow smudged with red lipstick.

Kylo didn't see what made the man so attractive, but the money was enough to make anyone beg. 

The woman, a curvy blonde, played with the strap to the eyepatch over his left eye. She looked at it as if it were the sexiest thing she'd seen on a man.

For a second he wondered what she thought about his scar.The one etched into his face serving as a constant reminder of that night.

"Snoke." He muttered, too sober.

"I am glad to see that you're doing so much better, get your ass in there and have some fun." They stumbled past him and off of the porch, their swaying overly stimulated by wandering hands.

His gut churned with anxiety. 

"Oh!" Snoke called, just as Ben was about to disappear inside.

He turned around to see the boss pull out a cream envelope. "Here's your money old sport. Thanks for your work, so be ready for your next mission. It will be in a few weeks."

Ben grabbed the envelope, not bothering to see the amount as he tucked it into his ripped pants.

The night moved by slow enough for him to realize that the liquor wasn't eliminating the loneliness. It ate up at him enough for him to get himself stoned.

He never did anything else, and never wanted to. But that night the urge to kill more than enough brain cells was enough motivation for him to end up puking off of the front porch.

He promised Joe he'd be better than this shit.

It had been so long since he'd smoked, that he could feel his paranoia set in, lapping at him enough to get away from the music and slink into the stillness of the night.

Time passed in a blur. He did not know how long it was until he regained consciousness.

Long enough to realize he was about to walk out in front of a semi.

Small hands gripped at his arm tightly, pulling him back from the middle of the highway. He blinked stupefied at the oncoming glare of headlights, blinding him.

It was when he saw her. Trying with all of her might, to push his big ass out of the way.

She was struggling, but he saw the dilemma. 

Instead of being afraid of the semi, she was trying to risk herself by saving him.

He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled them both out of the way. Just in time for the blare of the big rig to wail by.

Anger flared through him, white and hot as he released her.

He was so drunk he could hardly stand straight, and yet through his cloudy thoughts he could make out the look on her face.

Equal anger.

"What in the fuck were you doing?!" He growled, stepping forward. Trying to intimidate the girl for whatever unknown reason.

She was too young to know this much. Her eyes, big and round, seemed to look right through him.

Silence. 

"What now you're not going to talk to me? You almost got yourself killed!" He turned, sucking in fits of air to try and calm himself down.

How did he even end up here?

She just watched him, her in her pale nightgown, glaring up at him as if the moon itself took form of a little human to spite him.

It was when she turned on her heel and began walking to the other side of the road when panic set in.

The second time she had saved his life, and he was treating her like shit.

Rey

Nothing belongs to me. 

She reminded herself as she listened to the familiar hum of a motorcycle.

The man she believed she'd never see again came rolling in, wrapped up in leather jacket.

He looked better, less mangled and more aware as he maneuvered his way out of her sight.

But not for long.

Phasma had left hours ago, disappearing as she always did on nights like this. So, Rey found it much easier to slip out of the front door.

She had followed him the entire night. Watching from afar.

Knowing that she couldn't go back home after seeing how Phasma hung off of the man with the eyepatch.

So she found refuge underneath the porch of the trailer he had disappeared into, and waited, knowing she'd wait all night if she had to.

At first she thought she just wanted to see him, but as the hours passed she decided she wanted him to see her too.

To see if he remembered her.

It had been late when he left the trailer on fumbling steps, slurring under his breath in a drunken haze.

She watched him consider the bike for a moment, before he took off walking. Barely keeping his feet underneath himself. It was a funny sight, but terrifying.

She knew what it was like to be around someone under the influence, and from what she had experienced.

It wasn't good.

Rey wanted to leave him alone then, knowing she wouldn't be able to handle the truth. The hurtful words bound to spill from his lips, the pain that would come from his large hands, or even the look of hatred in his eyes.

No, she just wanted to remember the man who had spoken to her with soft words.

 She followed anyways.

Caught within curiosity of his mindless wandering.

 When he stepped out and onto the road, she knew she would have to blow her cover. 

She knew, and yet she was not ready.

The big truck came quickly, the only type of vehicle that ever plagued this highway other than the residents of the areas.

The lights did something to the stranger who had stiffened, but it could have been the way she grabbed him.

Urgent and needy. Her tiny nails ripping into the flesh of his forearm as she pushed with all of her might.

He wouldn't budge. Hard headed and dumbfounded. She wished she could beg him, but the words would not conjure from her lips.

She wasn't prepared for the way his arms wrapped around her, or the words that spilled soon after.

It was as if he had cut her to the bone; her heart barely able to contain itself.

Anger, if that was what you called it.

His soft eyes were gone, and instead they were black. Black and emotionless just like everyone else's.

He was just like every one else. And that memory she had shared with him many nights ago, did not belong to her.

She had to leave. Disappear to sulk. 

Because the last thing she wanted to do was show him her feelings.

"People are ugly, they are contagious, and if you let them they will fill you up and eat you alive. You hear me?! Trust no one child. Don't let them in." The woman hissed, her voice cool and inviting before her nails dug into Rey's small face. Shaking her violently.

Rey didn't want to let him in.

"Rey please." His voice broke as she walked, ignoring him as she made her way back towards the park.

Heart aching from the truth underneath it all. Because she knew he was just like the rest of them. That the moment they shared all those nights ago didn't belong to her.

Nothing belonged to her.

 He followed her anyways, the soft shuffling behind her keeping her from losing herself within her thoughts.

It wasn't until she felt his rough hand catch her shoulder and turn her around when she felt the reality of the situation sink in.

He towered over her like some massive oak tree, his hair greasy and pulled back off of his face.

The puckered scar dug into his face, still swollen and grimy. 

His face was the epilogue of how she felt.

"Listen. To. Me." He begged, his voice soft- feather light. His blood shot eyes were searching hers with desperate need. "I'm sorry I got mad okay? I don't know what I would've done if you would have gotten smeared on the concrete back there."

 She made to pull away from him, clawing at his massive hand like some savage animal.

He let her go, but his actions told her he would do it again in a heart beat if it meant that she would stay and listen.

So she waited. 

"I-I never got to tell you thank you for the last time you saved my sorry ass, and now I feel like I owe you one. I'll do anything, anything." His hands went to run through his hair before he contemplated something. 

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, muttering something along the lines of it being too cold outside for her to be barefoot. 

It fell on deaf ears as she swayed from the weight of the jacket itself.

The smell of leather and grease wrapped around her for a moment before she was overcome with the other smells, smells of sweat and some underlying earthy smell. Like dirt but cleaner.

 She hugged it closer, pretending to be cold.

He didn't say anything else, but instead began walking to the park.

And she followed close by, trying not to trip over the jacket's sleeves.

"My name is Ben, but everyone calls me Kylo." He murmured as she gave him back his jacket. Not knowing what would happen if Phasma found her with some stranger's item.

Ben.   She mouthed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Beginnings, Boots, and Boys

Phasma

She would never forget the day she met Rey.

It had been a late night when she and her ex had opened the door, hands clawing at one another in a fit of passion, when she was met with the sight of the little girl digging through the kitchen trash.

Plutt had shrugged it off as if it were something normal and human. 

Saying in the moment that it was his ex-wife's fault and proceeded to mumble something about the woman being a germophobe. As if being a germophobe had anything to do with the child eating leftovers from the nasty ass trashcan.

It was the starting point to the cataclysm of Rey.

It was in the trivial things. The insignificant details in the way the little girl would go about things. 

With the morbid fascination with the functioning of things. Phasma would walk in on the girl dissecting electronic devices, only to later watch her put them back together.

Maybe it was the complete cleanliness, she had never seen a child so young take care of herself the way little Rey did. Cleaning it up as if she were never there to begin with.

 The lack of speech went hand in hand with the fact that she did not let anyone touch her.

And the way she just watched as if she actually understood the world around her. 

But what worried her the most, was the food situation.

She had only caught her the one time, but she knew what was going on at night. She tried getting use to the child eating from the trash, and even confronted Plutt after the second day of ever meeting her.

He again brought up his late wife, who would apparently get drugged up on pills and go off of her nut. He had said one time he came home with the two fighting in the bathroom, the little girl wailing like some tortured animal as the woman poured bleach down her throat.

Phasma cried as she listened. Asking why after a few moments of silence. He had shrugged, chugged back a beer and just stared off at the television before he continued. 

"The girl's dad died of cancer, and when she found out she thought the girl would get her infected. She thought the girl was dirty, and that everything she touched she contaminated." He had shrugged again, lighting a smoke which clung to his bottom lip. "So the bitch taught her how to clean herself- to just wipe her existence away from whatever she touched."

"I'm just surprised she aint dead." He had slurred.

And it broke her heart. Giving her a strange new outlook towards the little otherworldly girl.

And he was right, she never touched anything, not until no one was there.

And the food? Phasma would hear the child's stomach growl, but every time she would try and bring her a plate, she would just stare at it as if it were some elaborate trick.

It was freaky. The complete control.

Shit, she didn't even have that much control.

At first, she wanted to help her, but then as time dragged on-everything became useless.

A never-ending cycle of getting nowhere, resulting the woman of her mid-twenties to get complete and utterly wasted because of the stress.

It was a nightly ritual, before they moved.

They had agreed to move to the country side out of the hopes the fighting would die down, but it didn't. 

The child became the centerpiece of her and Plutt's arguments. Angry brawls, fists, teeth, blood, split- it all became one and the same. All ending with the girl's names on their tongues.

He was tired of her trying, and she was just tired.

She was too young for a kid, she had decided, and brought up the idea of putting her back into the system. Giving her a new home.

Plutt had refused her idea right away, and bitched about the importance of the welfare check.

So they came up with the plan to pretend she wasn't there, Plutt more so than she. Because she cared about the damn thing...

But she knew.

She knew that whatever had happened to Rey had been drilled into her. Like some haunting in Connecticut shit.

So, when Plutt left one morning never to come back, she decided she needed to stay. Why? She had no fucking clue, but something told her that no one else would be able to deal with the child.

It wasn't until Kylo started coming over when she realized how strange his and Rey's relationship was.

It had started one evening and progressed over the next few weeks.

Started with the kid just trying to check in, as if he just wanted to see her. Never coming in and never staying very long.

It wasn't until after the second time that she realized who he was, which was one of Snoke's boys. And he had always made a point to come by the house first, before doing business.

Always trying to make sure the girl was doing okay.

Kylo and Rey never really said anything to each other, not at first.

Phasma had even tried eavesdropping one morning by standing by the open door, hidden in the shadows away from the porch light. But all she had heard was the deep rumble from the boy. Talking about the things he liked.

And he liked to talk, he talked so much. Making up for the absence of Rey's silence as he went on about the weather, about the new update on his motorcycle, or some funny thing that happened to him at work.

It was normal, sweet even. Innocent in all the ways that she knew the little girl needed in her life.

It wasn't until it had started cooling off outside, when Kylo approached her. A sudden change in his normal shy demeanor. It was nearing dark, and Snoke had just left when she opened the door to find Kylo standing there. 

The flush from the past few hours hung heavy on her face as she attempted to pretend that she hadn't just finished riding his boss.

The night air clung at her, making her pull her robe around her as she looked up at the boy. His black eyes had looked straight into her soul before the baritone voice of a man erupted from his throat. "Rey needs to go to school." He quipped, intense.

She was stupefied. Didn't even really know the girl's age or what grade she would even be in. Hell, she didn't even talk. Phasma's mind fought the funk as she fumbled over her words. "I-I don't know if that's a clever idea. She doesn't even talk or communicate in any way...They would eat her alive Kylo."

His jaw clenched, and he proceeded to run a hand through the his mop of hair.

He had that look on his face that someone had when they had been sitting and thinking on something for too long.

"Listen, I'll take her to school every day. Make sure she does her homework and shit. I just don't want her to end up like some failed drop out like me. Listen...I-I'll do anything." He leaned forward, the movement backing her up as he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

A gentle touch.

A silent please.

She blinked, her mouth dropping as her mind processed what he just said.

Was he trying to bribe her with his body? Did he really think she was that heartless?

She wanted to laugh, but the sadness in it made her swallow back a strange emotion.

Who in the fuck did he think she was?

Not a mother.

 "Stop." The words were soft, but she knew exactly who they came from. She didn't have to look at Kylo's face to realize Rey had crept up on them, but she watched as his eyes honed in on the girl behind them. The change was quick, his eyes melting in the dim lighting, and Phasma knew in that moment that he'd do anything for the child.

Because the look said it all.

The fondness of a parent.

Kylo wasn't a bad looking kid, she had to admit as she stood there. 

But there was something off about him, the broken way he carried himself, and the fact that he wasn't even in his twenties and he was much bigger than any man she'd ever met. 

 A giant with sad eyes, and a face so beat up that it had definitely seen better days

 And the rumors, god, the rumors.

The kid apparently had a unholy sort of temper, enough to get his ass in and out of jail through the years.

So, without hesitation, she backed away. Stepping aside with a anxious laugh. "She will go to school...no need for anything drastic." And rushed to the kitchen that connected them to the living room, so she could do dishes and watch from out of the corner of her eye.

It took him a second to step inside for the first time. Ducking to clear the door, before standing in front of the little girl, whose height barely reached his hip line. They had looked at one another for a few moments, the girl standing stiffly like she always did.

She made to turn away from him, a look on her face like she knew what he had been trying to do. Which Phasma deemed was impossible because she was too young for that shit.

But she wasn't exactly the best role model, she decided, as she began scrubbing at a dish, her face heating up with embarrassment. 

"Look, I was just trying to make sure you get into school....Have you even gone to school here yet?" He mumbled, back to being a teenager again as he fell over his words. His gangly limbs hung at his side as he hunched in on himself.

Rey had fully turned from him. Not bothering to walk away like she usually did with Phasma ,no, she just stood and stared daggers into the wall. A simple nod of the head revealing she'd never been to school here.

"Well we need to get you going this year, you're smart. I'm sure you can prove to them that you can make up the time you missed. Hell, I'm sure we can even convince them that you were being homeschooled- I know I know. It probably wont work but...we gotta try." He was talking fast, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, completely forgetting about the other woman in the room.

Rey didn't forget though, as she quickly glanced towards her before turning back to him. If her watching them bothered her, it didn't show.

In that moment, Phasma's heart wrung itself as she watched the two. Rey's face changing from stone cold to something else entirely.

It was in the way that she openly watched him, as if he were the sun, the stars, and everything between.

"I'll go...As long, as you- take me. To school." She breathed the words, pitchy in a soft subtle way. Running out of breath before getting the full sentence out.

That was when.

They made the deal.

Ben

She needed shoes.

And at first he was going to take her to the next town over, to a strip mall so she could pick out something cute and girly. Whatever little girl's her age liked.

But plans changed that morning, when he first arrived, and he caught her staring at his teeth stompers. He decided he'd treat her to a pair of good old-fashioned boots.

It wasn't a surprise to him when he had found out the girl had no shoes. It all but encouraged him as he walked with her back to his bike.

"'Morning little one, I'm going to take you for a ride today- that okay? Would you like to ride the bike?"  They stood there awkwardly, her in that damned nightgown, that he was beginning to think was the only thing she owned.

He was pleased when she gave him a curt nod.

A yes.

Of course something in him already knew; she had been staring at that thing the minute he began coming around. Why wouldn't she want to ride?

He had to admit, he was excited.

"Alrighty, well I gotta pick you up and put you on...and I know you don't like being touched...so you gotta bare with me." He mumbled low and soft. Which he hoped was more comforting.

She only watched him, eyes wide, as he stepped forward. 

 At first he was sure she was going to run, but the moment his hands reached out- her little arms lifted. A sad attempt to mimic what children do when they want to be lifted up. 

She was trembling when his hands grabbed her just under the arm pits, and he lifted her as if she were nothing. Making it fast before she changed her mind.

What was she eating? Did she even eat?

He felt giddy as he placed her on the crotch rocket. One hand grabbing the handle to maintain the bike's balance. 

She didnt have a helmet so she had to sit in front of him.

She grabbed at the seat, as he wondered for a moment if he was going to scare her off. 

 That if he hadn't already, he was about to. 

With one swooping motion he was sitting behind her, plopping onto the bike which sunk a little under his weight. 

 He sat still with his hands on the bar as he waited for her to run.

But. She sat still. Trembling and stiff but never moving from her spot. 

The machine roared to life, and his day getting ten times better the moment he caught a soft smile etched onto the her face.

A smile.

The entire trip was awkward, the constant struggle of Rey fidgeting as she tried purposefully to maintain the dress from flying up and off of her legs. Along with the battle of trying not to touch him, which she failed at as he practically caged her within his arms, making sure she was safe.

Because he had to admit the fact that her not wearing a helmet bothered him, especially if she was going to ride a lot more.

If. If she wanted to ride any more after this.

"A good morning to you Kylo!" Old Bobby called from the register as he and Rey piled in through the door. She had stood by his side, looking around as if she'd never seen a boot store before.

"Go on now, go find something." Directed at her, Ben leaned down enough to motivate her with a the biggest smile he could muster.

He watched her gaze at him through the wild tangles of her bronze hair. Something like mischief playing in her eyes.

Then she was off, her bare feet slapping against the floor as she disappeared into the stacks.

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

"She's adorable." Bobby, an old jazz man, practically sang from the counter as he leaned forward trying to get a good look at the kid.

"Yeah, in a minute when she gets back up here...I need you to get a few helmets. I want her to be able to pick out the one she likes." He leaned against the counter, trusting Rey's intuition. "If she's going to ride the bike with me then I need to know she'll be okay."

Money was burning a hole in his pocket as he waited, making small talk about Joe's business. His mind replaying the look of curiosity on her face. 

I could get use to this. His mind chugged it over, thinking about the odd relationship he had with the girl. He knew she was still weird around him and probably would always be, but the thought of her ever warming up to him was enough to keep him content.

After this, he decided, he would take her out and let her pick out some clothes for school. 

When she came back, he couldn't help but beam with happiness. Rey held out a pair of boots almost identical to his own. Down to the way they were stitched together.

A small smile played on her lips as she watched him take them from her and look them over. He could get use to this.

Her smile.

"They look to be a bit big don't they? Ah, shit you'll grow into them." He plopped them on the counter. The old man had found his way around the counter, way too close for comfort. Holding out three helmets, two in which were covered in some sort of pink girly shit. 

Without even thinking about it Rey grabbed the standard black one. 

"You don't want the girl ones?" Ole Bob pursued holding them out in his wrinkled old fingers, as if she were to change her mind. 

"I think she picked it out ole boy." Another chortle as he witnessed Rey completely over look the old man, and instead walked to the other side of Ben to hide. 

She didn't touch him but stayed close enough to not get bothered again.

"Well, shes adorable Kylo...but I didn't know you had a kid? Never seen 'er around." Bobby was back behind the counter, ringing everything up to a pretty pricey sum. He didn't mind as he pulled out the cash and paid it full. 

"Shes not my kid...just a friend." He muttered the back of his neck prickling from the stare thrown his way, as he snatched the boots and helmet off of the counter. What else was he suppose to do? Lie?

He ground his teeth as they both left the store.

Couldn't a guy just help a kid out every once in a while?

"Come on, I got another surprise for you." 

Chapter Text

Time was such a precious thing.

Chapter Text

 Rey

Germs were everywhere.

It was why one had to be careful of who to let in, because germs go both ways. 

They trickle about, setting in like a bad omen, and they really had a nasty way about getting in. But the most dangerous germs were the ones on the inside, underneath the skin, between the follicles and particles of one's being.

Germs created sickness. That's why Mrs. Plutt heard the voices, and the voices had started up more at Rey's arrival. Mrs. Plutt said that it could only mean that she had to become the messenger, so she could let Rey know how sick of a little girl she was.

A sick little girl, so sick from being around the diseased, a sick little girl that had to be more careful than others. Ms. Plutt made sure to use her time wisely, to teach her of the rules of the book so she didn't die like her pa. So she wouldn't get other people sick.

The first lesson, the most important lesson, was food. 

As they say, "You are what you eat" and that had been the most important saying because Rey knew she was to eat nothing.

Nothing.

She was nothing.

At first she didn't understand what Ms. Plutt meant, but she found out rather quickly.

After the second time ever eating within the Plutt household, the woman of the family cooked spaghetti. The aromas were nice, the meal was large, and having set down three plates at the table Rey assumed one was meant for her. So, she obligated to sit and begin eating along with the two new foster parents within her life.

The change was so sudden it had backhanded her from the table, literally.

She had taken one bite, and suddenly it was ash on her tongue as the woman snatched her from her seat, by the nape of her neck; ripping at the hair there with such force she was seeing stars.

"What. did. I. fucking. tell. you" The woman seethed as the child babbled incoherently; and Rey promised she'd never eat again. She'd cried, digging what nails she had into the floorboards as she was dragged into the bathroom, her small hands grasping at the edges of the doorway to anchor herself. 

 "Sweetie, germs are bad, that fucking food was bad for you. Cant you see? Cant you see it was bad?" Ms. Plutt cooed her voice menacingly calming, a mother's voice, but her hands were rough and bruising.

Rey's fingers gave from holding her onto the door frame, and her back splintered against the edge of the tub as she bawled, her throat burning from the mere fear of not knowing what came next.

The pungent smell of acid hit her nostrils before she could grasp what was happening, and suddenly she was drowning in it. Coughing and choking on the taste as it seared it's way into her pores and her skin, flooding into her airways wit h painful vigor. And she knew that if she made it out alive she would never- never eat again.

"There now youre clean, yes atta go girl, that's a beautiful clean girl." The woman cooed, and the shower sprinkled on. Ice cold. 

And that's when Rey understood, she understood even though it had been confusing.

That it was much safer to eat when no one was watching, because that was when you opened your mouth and that's how the germs would slip inside.

That in those days, late into the night, she would stay up from the pain of a empty stomach, and she would seek out the fresh food Ms. Plutt had dumped into the trash. She would find the food still warm, and she would eat it from there because it was safer.

It was safer.

A gasp split from her as she shot up in bed, mind racing from the memory.

It was probably a sign that she had been too careless recently; a subtle reminder to watch out. 

It was early morning, the darkness still young as it peered into the window. And she felt the heat embed into her heart as she sat panting while her mind contemplated what to do next.

She watched the window.

The steady thrum of a party throbbed somewhere beyond that window.

 Ben

Two years. 

It had been too years since he met this crazy bitch and he couldn't help but crack up at the sight of her.

Phasma stood, dancing in nothing but bra and underwear, dancing on one of the tables to the harsh bass of a rap song he didn't care for. 

He had mixed emotions about it all really, as he sat stoned out of his mind with the hand of a random girl resting on his thigh.

He had contemplated getting up and snatching her ass off of the table to tell her she needed to go home, to go and take care of that little girl. His little girl.

But he stayed seated, and just watched. Watched as the trailer packed up like sardines, of how all of the bodies wormed and meshed together with sweat and drugs.

He had gotten to the party pretty early, just fresh off of a mission from a coke run with another one of the boys. He had arrived and Snoke had instantly matched him with a dark haired girl with a snake tattoo running up her right arm; Snoke had told him he needed to get laid, because "A man that beats another man like that isn't relieving tension correctly."

So, he shrugged it off and decided to get wasted. Only because with the way the girl had been eyeballing the boss would only mean that she'd be in the back fucking his brains out within the next few hours. Plus he knew women, the type of women that came around here at least; they wanted to act like hard asses and pretend that they were interested in him when really they were scared shitless. She was doing what she was told though, her hand caressing his pants legs, trying to get a rise out of him as he seemed to float- uninterested.

The fact the girl, whose name he didn't bother catching, even tried to get into his pants had made him even more lonely.

More lonely and stupid.

The song ended and the blonde woman jumped from the table and howled with laughter, her eyes darting nervously around the room trying to keep track of where the boss had gone. He felt sorry for her, really. Snoke was a lying cheating fool, and he was not one to stay monogamous for very long. She knew that, and still tried.

She tried by going down that rabbit hole when really she should've just stayed home.

Phas came and plopped down beside him on the rank loveseat, lighting a cigarette on her way. "Fucking fool." She laughed to herself, wincing a little as the next song came on abruptly. 

He didn't know how long he sat there, spacing out and in his head. Thinking about work, thinking about the run, thinking about needing someone to hold tonight that wasn't the snake bitch.

The black haired woman cooed suddenly, drawing him from his head. "Awwww look at that little girl! Isnt she just the cutest!"

And it didn't take him long to realize who it was as she split from the door, through the crowd, and into his lap with urgency. Her eyes were wide, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened off of her tan skin. Her long hair had been pulled back in the three buns that he had taught her to do, and what was more was she was using one of his ratty band shirts as a nightgown. It pulled up around her long legs as she curled up into him, settling into him like she was his little puzzle piece. Putting him back together.

Finally.

In the last few years he still couldn't get use to the little moments of touch that she would allow him. It was perfect save for the bitch next to him, that had begun to talk in that high nasally voice that would dig underneath his nerves, automatically making him uncomfortable.

"I didn't know you had a kid!" She grinned, and Phasma shot her a look.

"That's not his kid." She chuckled blowing smoke out of her nostrils before pulling another drag. She had gotten to the point that she had stopped trying for the little girl, and apart of it made him happy because it was up to him now.

It was all up to him.

"Shes just a friend." He said, feeling Rey's face in the crook of his neck. "You have a nightmare hun?" He murmured, only for her to hear. She had a lot of nightmares, but for this one to wake her up and make her come to him as he sat amongst this shit show- well it must've been bad.

He leaned forward a little, wanting to leave more than anything. Take her somewhere far away from these bad people.

"Awww!" The stranger seemed to writhe in the sudden interest of the girl in his arms, it was getting annoying. "Is that your boyfriend sweetie?"

And time stopped as Rey stiffened within his arms.

He held his breath, his heart spiking up with something unknown. What the hell was wrong with this woman? He was a boy, of course, and he was her friend- yeah. But what the fuck?

Rey gave a sudden nod, and he went silent.

"That is so sweet," She began.

"It really is though, they're adorable together." Phasma snipped in, red eyes round and glazed over. "It's been like that ever since I can remember."

"Ah, shes my little helper. My partner in crime- arentcha?" His heart was pounding, but he blamed it on the weed. It was making him overthink shit. "come on, lets get you out of here. " And he waited as she reluctantly got up off of him and stood, her head down in shyness as the snake girl continued on about how cute she was. About how crazy something that adorable could want to be around a big scary man like him. He ignored it as he pulled himself up, running a hand through the mop of hair on his head. He was watching Rey the entire time as she glanced only at him in her shy little demeanor.

But she caught his look, the look of I will follow you wherever and she was soon leading him out into the darkness of the night.

She led him so far that the music pounded obnoxiously in the distance.

Rey

She absolutely hated seeing him like this. Although it made him appear much younger than he usually did, it was the way he fumbled around. Blank and uncertain, as if any moment he'd just disappear into the thin air.

So she took him where she knew he'd come back to her.

She took him to a field a few minutes down the road, it was a meadow carved out in a clearing half a mile into the woods. It was their meadow, high with grass with the chirping of crickets that gave way to a nice view of the night sky; the stars were out tonight and seemed to dance in the moonless night. 

Every so often she'd glance over her shoulder at him, her hand fingering the crescent moon on her necklace, just to make sure he was still there. 

Don't get too close Rey, you'll infect him with your germs. Your filthy germs, and then he'll die just like your pa. Her mind chorused, stopping her mid-step.

Her skin began to itch with gooseflesh, because by god that was what the dream had been. A reminder.

She was infecting him.

She glanced back, tears pricking just behind her lids, and found herself suddenly more thankful of the darkness that swarmed them.

How could she do this to him? How could she not see?

He was spiraling out of control, even more lately than he had in the past.

Always going to the parties, always getting hurt and going with the bad man on errands.

Getting wasted and every once in a while leaving with a random woman.

Oh she hated that.

She hated the way his eyes would trail another woman, of how the muscle would jump in his jaw. Of course she didn't understand why he was doing that, or why he needed to have someone much older to feel less alone.

Especially when she thought she helped him feel less alone.

But nothing belonged to her, not even him. Not even these small moments.

Maybe it was because of her, of this infection, of the stupid flutter of feelings in her chest.

"So." He rumbled, much more near than she expected him to be, making her panic to compose herself. She felt him pass her and collapse into the soft grass below them. "So, uh, I'm your boyfriend now-eh?" He chuckled, voice slurring as she listened to the rustle of clothing as he got comfortable in the grass.

She decided to sit with him as well, eyes barely making the outline of him, as she planted her body next to his. 

The grass felt good on her feet, in between her toes, and she hummed underneath her breath- knowing that he was hoping she would talk to him. She knew she shouldn't, not this soon. Now when it could hurt him more, but it had been weeks since she had seen him last. And although she could go weeks without saying a single word, it was tonight that felt different, and maybe it was just the stars.

Maybe it was the way the world seemed to still, and blossomed into this ethereal hum. Of magic, of much more.

The feeling that she had felt all those nights ago when they first met swarmed her.

"yes." she breathed, hands digging into the earth underneath her. It was a warm night, one of the first warm nights of the year and it felt nice.

He made a noise in the back of his throat before she could feel his hand near hers, and she knew what he wanted although he never asked. She threaded her small fingers into his, the darkness of the night making the action much more significant.

Warm callouses met hers and calmed her anxiety almost instantly.

"Okay. I can be your boyfriend, just.." He made another noise, an audible intake of breath. He was beginning to sound more and more sober. "Just don't tell nobody okay sweetheart? They'll think it's weird, although they don't understand. Okay? You got that? Its one of those things that's between us, just like the sleep overs."

 She squeezed his hand and continued to watch the stars. Suddenly feeling much more than a nothing nobody, and she was so happy to know that he didn't care about her or her sickness. That she could worry about that another day.

So she inched closer, feeling him wrap her up into his side with his arm that encased her with warmth. The left hand of the arm she rested on began to undo the three buns of her hair, coaxing her to relax more into him, and soon she was dozing off to the sweet smell of his sweat and the feeling of him playing with her hair.

"Ursa Major." He grumbled against her, vibrating her with a deep rumble from his chest. "Hydra, virgo.." He rumbled on, talking about the stars was something he tended to do in moments like this. It was as sweet as a lullaby, and something that she was very fond of, on nights as clear as this.

He loved the stars, and she loved that because she loved the stars too. 

Chapter Text

Ben

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His fingers clumsily pressed into the gash in his side that pulled each time he walked. And oh how he walked, wishing he had his bike, wishing he hadn't even accepted the stupid fucking mission.

It was late into the evening, he'd just dropped off the truck not bothering to ask someone to drop him off at his house. All that mattered was that he had gotten it done and left without as much as one word.

He'd been walking for a solid hour it felt like, and hated the heat that boiled into his skin. Making the clothing he wore stick to him in sweaty sheets, increasing the friction against the maw of blood and sliced muscle.

But what he hated even more was that each time he'd blink he'd picture the mush of brains spilled across the pavement. Of the unnatural twist of the way the head had the ability of being able to snap on a man's shoulders.

Two men, he killed two men.

He'd never killed anyone, never, that was against the fucking rules. The rules, had always been to just beat them into a bloody pulp, but never actually land the killing blow.

He inhaled shakily, trembling, his nerves buzzing with the fact that he was now a fucking murderer. As if that were to fix the fact that he wasn't already fucked in the head.

The entire mission had crawled over and died and shit had hit the fan, it was from the moment he stepped out of the truck and the men had realized he wasn't Snoke.

It had been flawed from the very beginning, because why did they expect the boss to drive all the way down to Mexico to sell a trunk load of drugs?

It was stupid, the entire plan was stupid. And he had almost gotten killed.

If it weren't for the fact that he was already on edge, or the sudden instinct to recoil away from the shanking, he would be the one lying on that payment with his guts spilled across the pavement.

One foot after the other old boy. Joe would say.

One foot after the other.

The puckered wood of the cottage came into view, stifling him for a moment because it felt like forever since he'd been home. 

He continued walking, making sure that the bike was in the shed, and that nothing had gone wrong since he'd left.

He stepped onto the porch, the wood groaning underneath his weight as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys; only to recognize after a few seconds that his house was already unlocked.

His spine stiffened and he knew. He knew as soon as he'd open that damn door he'd get shot. That the damn gang had found out about him offing their members and they were waiting for him.

He pulled the pistol sheathed in his pants, knowing this time he'd use it because he'd be ready to use it.

He pushed through the doorway slowly, pistol coming up as he peered in at the open area; his heart soaring.

The living room and the kitchen stared back at him; it was a small little cottage with little room but he had always made it work.

It was enough for him to go about and lounge around when need be.

With only one bedroom, one bathroom, and the kitchen and living area feeding into one another it was enough for him to see that there was not in fact a gang of men awaiting to massacre him.

No, it was a little girl propped up on the wooden kitchen table, feet dangling as she flipped the page to a magazine lying in her lap.

"Rey?" He grunted, pistol suddenly burning in his fingertips as he placed it on the surface closest to him. "Rey what the fuck are you doing here? Have you lost your damn mind?" he'd almost shot her, it was so close and if he would have been trigger happy she would have been sporting a bullet.

Anger flared red hot underneath his skin, and the gash in his side was forgotten as he slammed the door behind him. Making the girl jump uneasily, her eyes wide as she gaped at him from the table top.

He rushed to her, wishing he could spank her but knew he'd feel bad about it afterwards.

But she didn't know, she didn't know that he just fucking killed two guys. And what would she do if she did know? Probably fucking leave him.

He growled low in his throat, feeling his heart race as his eyes landed on the magazine sitting in her lap.

His blood ran cold.

 The skin mag stared up at him, a woman with auburn hair sucking on a pistol in imitation that she was sucking on a cock, her body was completely exposed with her other hand dipped inbetween her legs. On the other page a woman was giving a man a blowjob. It burned into his mind.

He began to see red. 

Why in the ever living fuck would she look at this? She was ten years old, TEN! And now she was going through his shit, looking at everything? Breaking into his house because he'd made the mistake to show her where the spare key had been.

To say he was livid didn't compare to the amount of emotion that flooded through him.

He ripped the magazine away from her, bloodying her hand and the magazine itself along the way. "Don't. ever. look. at. this. shit." He punctuated as the slap of the magazine against the tabletop rippled through the air. For a second he had to strain himself from bending her over his knee and spanking her ass with it. But he wasn't her father, and he sure as hell wouldn't forgive himself for hitting her, so he shredded the magazine and trashed it. Instantly.

And she sat there silently, her face devoid of any emotion as she watched him do so. 

"You cant be looking at this shit Rey, and why in the fuck are you coming up in here making yourself at home? This is my house." He growled and leaned against the counter, blood getting all over the damn place. It was then she gave him that kind of look, the look that makes you want to curl up and die.

The look was enough to leave him sighing, bloodied hand pawing through the mess of greasy hair. "Listen, I haven't slept in a few days. I'm fucking dirty, and I'm tired and greasy and I need a shower. Something to eat, plus theres no clean clothes in this fucking house because I'm always gone, and I just don't have time for-." He stopped coming close to saying I don't have time for you, when In fact it would have been a lie. He could spend every waking second with her and it wouldn't have been enough. It must have been enough because she jumped down from the table and passed him through the front door.

He stood in silence, gaping at himself, feeling even more shitty until he heard the familiar slap of feet against the hardwood floors. The basket full of laundry came into view before she did.

She did the laundry.

His mouth went dry, and suddenly he felt like crying- something he hadn't done in years.

But he didn't, he couldn't, not when she motioned him to the bathroom and gave him a stank look for getting blood on the floor.

When they got into the bathroom she had disappeared and returned with a pair of pants, a shirt, and some boxers.

She eyed the bloody gash in his left side, marring him up pretty good, and he decided to peel off the shirt he was wearing so she could get a better look at it.

Her eyes widened, and he was suddenly more self-conscious with it being the first time she'd ever seen him without a shirt, but he ignored it and went about grabbing a rag from under the sink. "Gotta clean it so it doesn't get infected." He began, showing her by wetting the rag and pressing it into the wound. 

She didn't say anything, just watched from the door way, and for a moment he was thankful she hadn't asked how it had happened. To be frank, it seemed like she didn't care as long as he was okay. Which was nice, because he didn't know what he would do if she knew he'd killed a few people.

"Go find me a needle will ya? Might be in a drawer or something. Find some thread too." He leaned against the sink watching as the blood trickled down his abdomen. Thankful that it was just a flesh wound, and it hadn't hit anything important. 

She was back in record time, the needle darkened from being sterilized by a lighter, and the thread as vibrant red as it could be. He nodded it, fixing it up to show her how to fix him up.

"Now let me start it out and show you how to do it, but if you want you can stitch me up the rest of the way?" His eyes flicked up to hers which shined curiously, her hair was falling out of the three buns, and the flush on her cheeks was what he assumed to be from seeing all the blood.

She nodded and watched as he fixed himself, feeling more vulnerable somehow because he'd stitched himself so many times. It was a constant state of fixing and he was so damned tired of being alone to do it.

It went by very quickly, she was a fast learner. Something he grew to understand over the past two years of being around her; she was definitely a smart kid. One of those kids that just knew things. 

Sometimes when he'd find himself looking her in the eyes, he felt as if she were much older. Older than him even. 

As old as the stars in the sky, and she understood him.

Soon she was leaving the bathroom and he was locking the door behind him and turning on the shower. The shower that burned uncomfortably as soon as he stepped in.

It was nice though, flushing away the images, burning into his skin and cleaning him completely. He had kept glancing down at the stitch work she did, seeing the puckered flesh accented with the vibrant red thread that had darkened from getting bloody and wet.

It didn't take him long to get out, get dressed, and see a plate ready for him on the table. A few sandwiches stacked on themselves, and he was happy to oblige as he plopped down into the chair and slicked back the wet hair off of his face.

"Thanks for the food hun." He said, murmuring and ashamed for earlier. For being mad about everything.

He looked at her as she stood, leaning against the counter that had been cleaned from the blood. Her legs had gotten longer, he admitted to himself.  As he happily chomped down on a regular ham and cheese sandwich, knowing it was probably the only thing that hadn't gone bad in the house.

He'd have to go grocery shopping later, especially now that he knew someone remembered where he lived.

He stilled for a moment before swallowing, "Listen, Rey. I cant have you coming in here without me okay? You're not allowed up in here without me around. There's no telling what could happen, and you know I'd lose my damn mind if something happened." and he watched as she nodded, pushing herself off of the kitchen to come and sit closer to him. 

She had never admitted it, but he thought she liked to see him eat. He offered her a bite from the sandwich knowing she'd shake her head no, and smiled anyways. He'd try until she did. Although he knew she wouldn't eat in front of anyone, but maybe one day he could change that.

"Get your stuff together, I'm going to take you home." He finished off the plate and got up to put it in the sink, only to have her barreling towards him with eyes wide and panicked.

"Bad man..." She half mouthed half whispered, and he realized that she'd come here to get away from the house. He gulped, his side burning against the stitching, and subconsciously rolled his tongue across his front teeth.

"He at the house with Phas?" and she was nodding, and he knew. She'd always got away when Snoke and Phas came together, the reason being that they were such a damn force that nothing else mattered when they were together. Almost like a sick Bonnie and Clyde.

"Fine I'll let you stay for a little while okay? Not for long though, just a little while." And exhaustion rolled in like a thundercloud, rolling in a warning against the back of his eyes as he filed in to the bedroom, forgetting about the girl in the kitchen. He crawled into bed, muscles aching as he settled on his back and rested against the pillows almost immediately falling asleep.

Not long after, he felt the bed shift, and felt her cheek come to rest on his right shoulder.

He grinned in his sleepy state, momentarily caught off guard by her willingly touching him once again. 

Maybe she was warming up to him.

He fell asleep with to the sound of her breathing, happy that she was safe and sound.

Rey

 The tone of Ben's cellphone cried pitifully against the wooden nightstand, vibrating and throwing a tantrum for a total of what felt like five minutes before he rolled over and thrust it to his ear. "What."

She kept her eyes closed, feeling the muscles in his arm move underneath her as he had wriggled to pluck the device from the table.

"Man I don't wanna go, I got banged up pretty bad. I need to stay home and rela- what?" His voice, edged with sleep, was much deeper than usual. Making her think back to the way it had dropped when he caught her looking through the magazine.

"I don't give a shit if theres girls, man. I almost got killed." He grumbled. His hand reaching from around her side, pulling her flush against him, as he moved the phone to that hand and pulled up his shirt with the other. She could feel the way he moved that he was assessing the damage. He stilled and she could barely hear the muffled tone of Snoke on the other end.

"I'll pay you extra, anyways you have no choice Kylo. There will be consequences." She heard, and she knew he'd have to go. Telling himself it was for the money, and then again it may have been for the girls- he just didn't want to admit it around her.

She hadn't understood why he had liked the women at the parties until she saw the magazine, and suddenly everything made sense. 

Would they be doing that to him? Her stomach churned uneasily.

He doesn't belong to you. She had to remind herself, still pretending to be asleep.

"Ugh, I guess i'll go. Just don't push me. Okay? wait what? Phasma is going too? But what about-" silence.

"oh." he said. It was devoid of all emotion and the way he said it made her skin prickle.

No sooner would she find out that she'd have to go and stay with Phasma's brother, whom she'd never met.

She'd be staying a total of a week, and during that week it would be sealed that she would have to visit the Hux's every summer.

Poe

Poe had never met anyone like Rey before. Sure he'd met a few strange kids at school, but this was different.

It had happened so suddenly.

One minute he was out in the yard playing with Bee, his little corgi pup, and the next minute his father and mother were yelling from inside the two story house. Their voices floating to him on that warm summer morning.

"What do you mean she's coming to stay with us?!" Rose, his mother, shouted from the kitchen. Her round face was bright and red, her eyes alive as he stopped playing and watched them fight through the kitchen window. He'd never seen his mother that angry, not like this. "Your sister, god- I love your sister, but she's always getting herself into trouble- what even made her think she could take care of some kid?"

"Listen she said the little girl could take care of herself, we just needed to let her have the guest room and she'd be okay." His father's voice shouted back, not as loud as his mothers but loud enough.

The shouting stopped as soon as the doorbell rang. And suddenly he was rushing from the back yard, leaving the corgi confused, and skidding onto the tiled floor that had just gotten remodeled. His mother shot him a look, but otherwise didn't say anything as she walked to the door.

Poe, being every ounce of a twelve year old, stood nearby quite literally shaking in his boots with excitement. He had no cousins because aunt Phasma never had kids, so this was something quite surprising.

But as soon as his mother opened the door, everything changed.

They lived in a very nice house, on a very nice street in a very nice neighborhood. So, when he saw the man standing at the door his entire heart dropped to his feet. 

The feeling must have been mutual because when he glanced over at his mother, he saw her eyes white up with fear.

"Uh- ello? I'm here to drop off Rey." The voice that left the man was deep and gravely, and he flashed a forced friendly smile. Looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else than delivering a child. You would have been completely ignorant to say that the reaper at the door wasn't a big man. He was monstrous, a giant, all muscle and clothed in darkness.

Poe found the most frightening thing about him to be the strange scar that rippled it's way across the eyebrow bone, barely missing his eye only to etch it's way down his cheek bone. He watched as the man leaned, corded muscle jerking and twisting underneath the black tank top, and gradually stepped around to reveal the little girl from behind him. 

"Oh great! So Phasma couldn't make it here herself?" Dad announced, walking forward looking as if he were about to call the cops.

He looked so much smaller compared to this man that it began to make Poe even more uneasy, so he did what kids do.

He ignored the two men and looked at the girl.

She stood stiffly, her stance reminding him of the twin girls from The Shining; a movie that his mother told him not to watch.

But it was the only way he could categorize the look she had on her face, as she peered uninterestedly at the manor.

She was a frail thing, all lanky limbs that peeked from a band t-shirt with angry lettering that read Pantera.

It swathed over her like a dress, reaching just past her knees. Oh but that wasn't even the beginning of it because to make matters more interesting- by golly- there were the boots. Two massive black boots jutted out like clown shoes, obviously bigger than necessary for a girl as small as she was. But what made Rey- Rey was the strange absurd way her hair pulled up into three immaculate buns, giving her that edgy look of a viking child. She was hardcore standing there beside the man, and for a second they looked like a pretty interesting couple. A pair deemed to suffer two different timelines and characteristics, but a pair none the less.

All of this had taken a few moments leaving the twelve year old boy quaking in his own tennis shoes.

And suddenly he was much more thankful to be able to meet this perfect stranger, than he had ever been in his life. Because she wasn't perfect, she wasn't frilled up and begging for acceptance, she was simply herself and they all knew that.

His mother gaped, and his father began to twitch inconsistently.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, to pick her up." The man known as Kylo announced, hesitating as Rey turned to him, standing on her tippy toes to place a soft kiss to the side of his cheek. Dismissing him with a sad look in her eyes.

He nodded, as if to himself, and turned back down their drive way. Walking to a motorbike that perched there like some twisted hellish thing, only to have  it boom to life, just as he sunk down onto the back of it. The icing on the cake seemingly being the fact that the man revved it up louder than necessary as he sped off. Hair fluttering behind him, jacket whipping around his body.

A character, he'd believed he would see in the movies.

And Rey was smiling, watching him go as she clutched the sides of her shirt.

She had a small canvas backpack on, and that was the only thing she had with her as she stood there staring off in the distance where the man had been.

"Come on sweetie, let me show you your room." Mom had beamed nervously her eyes darting to dad for help.

And the week became a very peculiar week.

They learned very quickly that she did not like being touched, nor was she very fond of talking. Iin fact, she never talked.

Dad claimed it was because it was the people she was around, hinting at Kylo. And mom claimed it was because she needed a good old fashioned whipping.

But for some reason, he just knew that's how she was, that it was just who she was going to be. Which was a little strange. But strange was good.

Strange was better than being bored of constant everyday things, but Rey lived another life. That was something that showed up on her as soon as the first night was over and the next day had started.

She hardly had an attitude about anything save for the one time he accidentally touched her, but other than that she was just a mute of a girl who liked to sneak off in the dead of night. Yes, yes, she snuck out at night. It had surprised even him, because what was the point of sneaking out, when everything that someone would need was in their house.

So everything had been too fun and new, and the week went by too quickly for his liking.

He began to hear hushed whispers of his parents in the other room, speaking as if the two children couldn't hear them, of how they would allow her to stay. That maybe they could rub off on her enough to make her a little normal so she wouldn't grow up to be a freak like Hux's sister, who had apparently moved in with a man at the age of fourteen.

He didn't think anything was wrong with that, although there were things even he never talked about.

Of the boy in class. But that was tomorrow, and now was the time that he soaked up every quality of his new friend.

She, turned out to be more of a night owl than someone who went about doing things during the day. He found that out after the second night of listening to the pitter patter of feet against the floorboards of her room. Of the sound of her pacing back and forth.

It had been on the third night, sometime past twelve, that she had creep down the hallway past his room, and simply snuck out the front door. Which made him nervous, but it was with excitement; and totally because of the fact that she was only ten (something his parents discussed) and she had more balls than him.

So he waited, and didn't follow her, but he had lied awake in the silence of the night and had counted the hours before she came creeping back in.

No, it was the fourth night (two nights before she'd have to leave) that he followed her down the stairs, catching her by the door.

She had turned to him with that glint in her eye as if to say I dare you to tell on me, wimp. And walked straight out into the night.

That night had been filled to the brim with sneaking into people's back yards, and into houses for her to snatch small intricate objects only to rearrange them in a confusing way that would clearly upset anyone but the two children.

It was that night that changed things, and she had lightened up in an almost friendly way. There was still distance but it wasn't like it had been.

He knew the more she'd come over the more they would bond, that at least she didn't hate him.

On the fifth day she had leaned close to him, her lips close to his ear. The small words of "Thank you." huffed out of her in two breathy pants, all low and ragged. Very unlike the voice he had expected, but it was her and it made him beam at the edges.

It had been nice until his mother pulled him aside later that evening, her eyes wide, her mouth in a worried line.

Upon seeing them correspond, mom had wanted to know what she had said, and he refused instantly. Making an effort to get her to understand that he didn't want to break that bond, that maybe later she would open up enough.

Because unlike him, his mother and father had been losing their minds.

Rey wasn't eating, Rey wasn't speaking, Rey wasn't responding or attempting to be normal in any certain way.

 That last night though, his mother had hit the jackpot with only a few words.

"So, who is Kylo baby?"

 Everyone stopped eating, and looked over at the girl who hadn't bothered touching her food as she sat staring at it. 

But suddenly as if cracking a shell she smiled, ever so softly, and shyly looked down to her lap. "Ben." She muttered, and his mother audibly dropped her silverware. It was his father's turn as he leaned forward.

"Is Ben... Phasma's boyfriend- husband?"

That earned a sour look, hazel eyes burning suddenly before she shook her head. "Friend." was all she said before pointing her small index finger at her chest towards her heart. "my. friend."

Chapter Text

Ben

Leaving her at that house had almost killed him.

The way they had looked at him had been enough to put him on edge, but it was the mere fact he was having to leave her there with them that made him want to curl up and die.

There was no telling what they would do.

How they would react to the way she treated life, or the fact that she didn't like to be touched. They wouldn't understand, no one would understand. No one ever tried to.

But he had to go; if he didn't go there would be more trouble, and although he didn't care much for Phasma's opinion he hoped that it was a good one. 

More than that, she'd better hope that nothing happened to Rey.

Trust no one but yourself, and even that. Had been something he'd read somewhere, he couldn't remember, all he knew was that it had flitted through his brain as he road on.

The cracked stretch of highway sparkled underneath the sun's gaze as he began to plan for the upcoming week.

He gave himself rules on that desperate Georgia highway.

First rule, don't get wasted. Don't drink, don't smoke- nothing. He would be every ounce of sober that he hadn't been in years, only because if she needed him.

If something were to happen, at that two story house and she needed him, then he'd be able to drive the hours to get to her.

Second rule, make the money and get it done, and then come back as soon as possible.

Which was a usual rule, but now it seemed much more important. Phasma hadn't even thought twice about leaving the girl with her brother, and it made Ben practically hurt with worry.

What if they kicked her out, what if they beat her? Maybe that was just his childhood leaking into his already paranoia. 

Third rule, don't let Rey out of his sight once he got back. He still felt like he needed to apologize for all of the drama, or just take her out and do something new because lord knows she needed it. Her life was a ship at sea it seamed; she was the captain, he the ship, and the entire world had turned into one big bloody storm.

Maybe he'd show her something he could do, build something with her. They had been working on an old rust bucket bike, and maybe finally he could get off of his ass and buy the parts to get it running.

He smiled to himself as he imagined Rey being able to kick the bike into gear, only to rev it up and piss off the neighborhoods.

Yeah, he'd fix up the bike for her. Teach her something.

Boy you don't have one creative bone in your body, let alone anything smart enough to get you into college. His father's words shuttered through him, making him almost capsize the bike. It whined as it shimmed, and he pulled to the side of the road in a heaping dust cloud.

His head going onto his hands as another shutter swept through him.

This was going to be a problem, he knew. He hadn't even started the damn trip and the ptsd from his childhood years was beginning to itch it's way up his back. Probably a big fuck you from his subconscious from deciding to stay sober, or maybe the fear of what Rey had to endure.

He'd have to talk to Phasma, if he could get her alone.

Rip into her about her recent shitty parenting skills.

Jackie

She was sure she showed up at the wrong trailer from the outright glare the blonde was giving her through the open window.

The last trailer in the back between two oaks? That's what he had said? She parked the car and got out of it slowly as she looked around, her nerves getting the best of her.

It wasn't until Snoke walked out that she knew she shouldn't have come.

He had never said anything about having another girl around, or having anyone else around at that.

Her heart dropped in her chest as she watched him swagger on the porch. He stood leaning against the open doorframe; every inch of a snake clad in a white shirt, holy jeans, and cowboy boots.

"Hey darlin'! Thanks for showing up, we going to be heading out as soon as my boy gets back."

"Oh." Was all she could formulate before her head was throbbing with the fact that he'd never mentioned a son before, but then again she'd always liked older men so what did she expect?

She watched him pull off a well worn black leather cowboy hat and run his hands through the greying brown curls atop of his head.

She could only nod as she closed the door to her little car and shrunk in on herself as a group of men began to pile out onto the porch. A good head of them too, each one a different size and shape, but all of them had an air about them. A gang. They passed her without as much as a glance, working their way around the trailer to what she assumed the bikes.

But the lack of attention, well... that's what really got to her. The constant reminder of being called little girl passed through her as she hugged her arms to her chest.

Sure she was small, she was barely legal as it is, but she looked a good few years younger. Momma had told her it was a good thing, and when Snoke had shown up a week prior he'd practically filled her head up with pretty little lies.

Snoke had called her funsized, told her she was beautiful, how she needed to come around his part of town more. She had felt wanted for once; a woman within a diner and not a slave to the consumer.

Maybe she shouldn't have come.

"My girlfriend and I are riding one bike, you'll be riding with Kylo." Was all he said before he was disappearing back into the trailer, back to the blonde sitting on the couch.

She turned for a moment to stare at one of the oak trees, blinking in surprise, and sort of wishing she was working today. The diner was much better than getting stood up by an old man, but he'd also mentioned a large sum of cash. Had called her a sweet girl as he sat drinking coffee at two o'clock in the morning. 

And she was lonely, lonely enough to find the eyepatch more than a little bit attractive.

Maybe he hadn't wanted her after all, it was all just a ploy.

It was vacation, a week long vacation, in Florida for crying out loud. She had to remind herself to have fun, do things on a whim more.

She clutched her backpack on her shoulders and looked down at herself, self conscious, and hoped that the outfit was more appropriate.

He'd said bikes, so she took the assumption to wear short shorts and a black tank top. Something complete opposite from her regular shirt and jeans attire, but she told herself that it was Florida- it'd be hot.

She had tried to look cute with her auburn hair, tan skin, the freckles. She'd thought the old man would love that shit, but apparently not.

The deep roar cut through the trailer park, winding in like some damn animal, as a man rolled up beside her car and parked the bike. He had hunched in on himself for a few seconds, leaving her to step back and glance another way.

The bike died quickly and he was pulling his weight off of it to begin up the steps and towards the wide maw of the trailer door.

"Hey boy, it took you long enough!!" Snoke's deep southern drawl slithered through the air as she glanced towards them both, watching the old man clap the back of the beast of a man.

Was this his son? She blinked, seeing absolutely no resemblance.

The man noticed her staring and went completely ridged beside the old man, his eyes burning into her from behind dark onyx strands of hair. For a moment he reminded her of one of those guard dogs; the silent ones that don't bark at you they just attack without warning.

It made her want to crawl back into her car and get the hell out of this shitty trailer park. But she stood there, completely frozen under the men's gaze.

Was it the hair? She wanted to ask, because the hair was in fact Snoke's idea. Three buns, he'd said. Which, if she was being honest, was hard as fuck to do. She did it anyways though, he'd told her he'd pay her extra.

And she hadn't realized she sounded like a damn whore up until she was reciting it all to herself. 

"Hi." She smiled, but felt like crying. The man just huffed to himself, his face which had been hiding behind the mess of hair, finally made appearance as he pulled his hair back into a messy bun.

He was an ugly fucker, but not in the traditional sense. Much like Snoke, who had been every bit of old and creepy back at the diner, this Kylo had the look that he'd pull your spleen out. 

She felt gooseflesh knot up on her arms as dark eyes burned into hers for a few more seconds, before he hissed something underneath his breath and walked inside.

"He'll warm up to you, I'm sure." 

The week came quickly, in blurred drug induced flashes that would even put Fear and Loathing to shame.

Colors whirred and spun, and she could only conjure up small unimportant moments amongst it all. The moments before she had begun partying with the gang, simple unimportant moments of just arriving to the hotel.

It was one of those hotels in Florida that were sketchy; you walked up to it and saw the pool full of baby diapers and other shit that you don't want to begin to decipher.

It was simply a hole in the wall made for the people just like the ones she was traveling with; gangs, mobs, bad men who prey on women in the night. It was the whole nine yards, and it made her stomach drop when she realized Snoke hadn't rented out a room for her and her alone.

So, her resort was to share a room with Kylo. It went as far as to be insisted.

The blonde woman known as Phasma had all but laughed when Snoke broke the news, and gave put the key in her hand before disappearing into the room right next door.

To top it all of the wretched sounds of moaning had begun to drift through the air, and it surely didn't take long for her to realize the dire situation she'd put herself into.

So she opened the door, feeling Kylo walk through behind her at a healthy distance, and walked into the shit hole of mildew smell and stained rug. She had walked to the bed, eyes scanning everything, before looking over at Kylo. Kylo who had simply settled in on the floor like some mangy mutt wallowing in the mud. He didn't seem to mind as his body bunched up around a leather bag which was being used as a pillow for his head.

She knew it wouldn't have been as bad if he would have acknowledged her existence, but he didn't. He didn't so much as to say anything to her, but the soft "I'm sorry".

It was the last time she could remember anything with her sober mind, before the black outs. Yes, the last thing she could possibly remember was the way he looked balled up against the ugly mustered brown carpet. Of how it made her look away out of pity towards the slanted beach painting on the wall.

The hotel was shit, but she was going to have fun. She told herself.

The parties came in the dozens, and as soon as one ended the next would start.

From ratty old trailers that smelled of shit and piss to high mansions with security guards and sleek cars. It was glorious, especially in the beginning, as the music thrummed through her bones; rattling her to the very core. Yes, the first few nights all she could remember was the feeling of bodies, of the massive groups of faces and the smell of sweat.

She would file in, pilled out on god knows what, only to remember the awkward way she would find him standing off to the side. He was always standing, completely transfixed in another world. He always seemed like a damn shadow, never partaking in the party, and only listening to Snoke who would call for him at some point within the night. Some nights he'd be gone for a few minutes, but other nights he'd come back to the party with bloody knuckles and stained shirts.

Like some dog, she had thought after watching him glide through the crowd of bodies, his face flecked with blood and his eyes wide with something feral. 

Though even with the drugs and the booze, the deep unsettling feeling of loneliness would set in. 

At first It had only been a creeping sensation, but by the end of the week she had gotten to the point that she couldn't help but throw herself at the guys of the party. Not even caring who they were, or the fact that they weren't her type, she just wanted- no- needed someone to show her she was something more. That she was worthy.

It didn't help that Snoke had practically dumped her off without as much as a fix, and it hurt every time she would see the blonde woman pressing close, always close.

So, she had given up and looked to other resources, to random strangers outside of the group. Rejection.

Rejection from every stranger she got close to, pressed close to, whispered to. It burned like bile at the back of her throat as she'd find herself clawing her way out the door for fresh air.

By mid week she decided to try maybe finding someone within the group, it was vacation after all. But it became very relevant that none of the men of the crew would even look her way.

And the loneliness had ate at her so much that one night she'd gone to a wiry blonde haired boy who looked like he could have been in high school still, he had stood up and followed her as far as to the bathroom before she saw Snoke out of the corner of her eye. Apparently the boy had as well, and instantly backed off of her, calling her a whore.

It had made her burn on the inside as she turned away, catching the glisten of Snoke's eyes and the shit eating hyena grin on his face.

 She was too numb and dumb from the drugs to care as to why Snoke had interfered to have made the boy shit himself; all she knew was that she was tallying up the next rejection. 

The burning grew and continued to grow until the last night of staying in Florida, having been sun kissed and coming off of the LSD, she lied there after they'd come back to the hotel. It had been late into the night, and she couldn't sleep so she blinked within the darkness. The sober feeling slunk in along with the deep hole engraved within her chest.

The hole from her childhood, from nightmares, from a parents divorce, from everything that had gone wrong in her life.

"If you want.." She said softly into the darkness, her voice catching and ragged, "You can sleep next to me tonight." She felt like shit, the three buns dug into the back of her head, and she didn't know why she hadn't taken them out; but guessed it was probably out of the fear of Snoke finding out and not paying her that extra dough.  So she took the pain, which had been dampened by the craving.

She was desperate, and she couldn't lie to herself any more. 

At first she had found Snoke's lap dog to be scary, too quiet, and completely not her type. But she couldn't stop the way she had watched his temper flare, of how he stood around as sober as the day he was born, of how she'd catch him eyeing her as she danced on the floor; ass shaking, hair up in the stupid buns, the childish way she had giggled into the night. It was the beginning to the itch, those dark eyes of his burning into her flesh like a tattoo, it marked her and her drug addled brain.

In that moment she noticed, and knew that he was desperate too.

She told herself she could do it, she'd do it and forget about it ever happening. Forget him, and this whole shindig. Hell she didn't even remember half of it anyways.

But she was lonely, and she'd do this for herself. She needed this.

 So she waited, after verbalizing and exposing herself, for what felt like hours within the darkness.

The bed dipped, and she could feel herself subconsciously shift closer.

 She'd slept with about a handful of guys, but in the moment she was trembling from nerves. Her small hands running against the covers to the muscles of his back, feeling as the muscles flexed through his shirt. Her heart shuttered as she blinked within the darkness.

Did he not realize what she was implying? Was this some gentleman act?

She licked her lips, feeling his body tense up underneath her hand as it trailed down the expanse of his back. He was such a big guy, and muscled up. It was surprising, because she had not realized it from just looking at him from a far..

His breath hitched as she shifted closer and slipped her hand over his stomach and to the hem of his pants.

He didn't bother moving as she felt underneath the hem of his pants and grabbed him through his boxers, all she got was a soft grumble underneath his breath, before he shifted to lie on his back. It was too dark for her to see, but it didn't stop her from rolling on top of him.

Her hips burned from being spread out too far, and she was reminded yet again about his size as she fumbled with undoing his pants.

They were quiet besides the soft breathing within the blackness.

"You don't have to do this." He muttered just as she was pulling his cock out of his pants, slightly upset that he wasn't hard yet. Wasn't he attracted to her? Hadnt he watched her that night?

"I want to." She said, breathless, panting almost. Her voice was ragged and she had to calm her heart down enough to be able to just breathe.

Her voice alone made his dick twitch, and suddenly she was becoming light headed. It had been so long, too long. His hands, although painfully slow, worked their way up her bare thighs (She had stripped within the darkness, after they'd come back from one disaster of a party, and was left in nothing but an overly large t-shirt and cotton panties that had seen better days.)

"Please, just...I'll do anything, be anything that you want, I just need this. I'm so fucking tired of being rejected by ev-" She was murmuring quickly, fumbling over the words in a stupid childish way. One of his hands, the left hand, had come up and covered her mouth; silencing her.

Ben

How could he not feel bad about this? 

The way the warmth of soft flesh seemed to unravel against him should have edged him on, after all it's what he'd been wishing for- for god knows how long. But it felt wrong.

Maybe it felt wrong because she was just so small. The way she stretched to accommodate him only seconds after he had shut her up, had practically churned him into a pleasurable anxiety attack- if that was even a fucking thing.

Oh, but whatever was happening left him breathless, it made his heart catch in his throat. He didn't wait for her to adjust to his size before he began to pump, his eyes rolling with pleasure; but he had to take it easy, had to catch himself. As if the soft whimpers pulled from the back of this stranger's throat were enough to remind him of...

He hissed, feeling her teeth against the soft flesh of his neck, reminding him for a split second of how Rey had gotten ahold of him one time for trying to tickle her as he was putting her on the bike. A deep rumble escaped him before he knew it, pushing the woman into the mattress of the bed as he fought for control. Sweat and sex filtered into the air, and he was losing himself in the way her legs couldn't quite wrap around him. Of how, as he pressed in close, he could grab the buns at the back of her head so he could press her face into the pillows.

She was taking it, all of it. 

"OH, Kylo." She moaned, softly, and he growled because she never called him Kylo.

Drunk on emotion and lost; the darkness was playing tricks on him. They couldn't be doing this, he shouldn't be in her room right now, but she never seemed to mind him sleeping next to her.

"Rey." He grumbled, his throat constricted as he shuttered, a small hand had begun to pull his hair. "We shouldn't be doing this."

She made a noise, something of surprise, and chuckled under her breath. "Why not?" She whimpered, quivering underneath him. Unraveling with him.

"I don't deserve you." He mumbled, he'd never been a talker, but he couldn't contain the way his heart beat savagely in his chest. His hands had crept to her small hips, and his nails had clung to the flesh there as he lifted her hips up off of the bed so he could  find better purchase. 

He'd always been a rough man, full of sharp edges and venom, and women could never handle him even though most of them could never get past the attitude. He was always too much. Too rough, too mean, too quiet, too drunk, and too many issues for a woman who just wants a man to comply. He wasn't anything, and had always known that he would get nothing more than the one night stands. Even then, he'd always stopped them from giving themselves to him out of the fear he'd be too much.

But loneliness burned through his veins like liquid lava, ravaging his mind and boiling at his brain as he got lost within himself. What a fucking monster.

A monster, that's what he had always been.

As she was pulling him in, he had forgotten the flashbacks that had come all throughout the week. Of the broken beer bottles, of the black eyes, and bloody noses. For a moment he couldn't think of nothing but the body against him, and the wretched sinking feeling of the truth.

He'd buried himself into her, and what was worse was that it wasn't truly her.

Her, her, her. The only person to ever show him any ounce of compassion, of care, of love. The only person to know what it was like to be alone, truly alone within the darkness. 

He could almost feel it; feel her. Fingernails breaking the skin of his back, small wiry arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer; she was such a fragile thing. So forgettable to the world as mean as this one, but not to him. He was here for her, alive because of her, destined to take care of her. No one else could do that, no one else bothered to. 

He would make her happy, give her everything and more, and she would take him. Wouldn't she?

 Her was hours away, probably missing him. Probably hurt from being left behind after the shit that went down, probably worried over him even though she shouldn't be. The gash in his side seemed to pulse with his heart beat as it throbbed painfully. One of the stitches has come undone, and with it the reality of what just happened.

He felt as if he'd done something wrong, and jerked from the amount of gilt. A sudden flash of imagery, of hazel eyes and tan skin, burned at his retinas; and his soul ached because he allowed his mind to wander like it liked to in the dead of night.

A sick feeling settled over him, and he could feel himself lose the last little sanity that sober had to offer.

He pulled out of the woman, and bit into a knuckled fist as he reared back from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. He was still painfully hard, and he had been so close to finishing. So fucking close.

Hazel eyes burned into him, and the way she did that half smirk thing. He groaned into his hand, half caught onto the fact that he would rather cut his dick off.

Fumbling within the darkness to turn on the shower, and not bothering with the light because he wasn't ready to face himself yet.

Rey

She couldn't sleep a lick that night, and all but watch the shadows grow and shift as the day ended and begun again.

It was finally here, the day she'd get to go home.

She found herself waiting down stairs, near the front door, for the growl of an engine.

"Sweetie, I need to talk to you...is it okay if I talk to you? Its about something very important." The soft nurturing voice of the woman she'd come to know as Rose, drifted towards her from the staircase, and the image of the short curvy woman covered in a light blue robe came into sight. Rey didn't bother flinching from her spot by the door as she sat waiting, her back was pressed against the firm wood fixture, and she watched the woman come closer with tired eyes and a fidget in her step.

Rey didn't say anything, but watched curiously as the woman stopped just a few feet away and squatted down to her level.

"Is Phasma taking care of you? Are you safe?" Worry laced her eyes, and Rey could feel gooseflesh prickle her arms.

They could never understand, not when they all treated her as if she didn't know what was going on. She was ten, yes, and she was ignorant to many things that are often exposed through experience, but they seemed to think she wasn't truly there. She seemed to blink, composing her face in a way, and nodded her head.

A yes, a yes because if she were to say no she would be taken away from Ben. Ben, who was truly the only one to understand, the only one to treat her as if she weren't a drooling baby but a...well... she swallowed the lump at her throat.

"So she really is taking care of you? She's a good mama?"

Another nod, a soft whispered yes. Although it was all lies, because Phasma was never home, and when she was she was never there. Ben said it was the drugs, something new that the old man was testing out called The New Order. But Rey just knew that it was the old man himself, he was pure poison, and he had gotten underneath the skin of the woman she had lived with over the last few years. 

The vacant stares, the constant paranoia and the lack of food. But it was okay, in fact it was perfect, if it meant that she wasn't going to be taken away from him.

The older woman just nodded, a firm look of pure contempt blossomed across her face before a soft knock echoed throughout the house

Her excitement died in her throat as the old withered face of Joe came into sight. He shuffled uncomfortably. "Ben called me to come get ya, said I should get you early so you'd get home around the same time as 'em." 

She nodded silently, looking past the man and to the pick up truck, just barely visible in the early morning darkness. 

Joe smiled sweetly and looked at Rose before introducing himself. Joe was always like a father to Ben, and she liked him well enough. He never touched her, and he gave her space. It was all she could ask for.

"No, I don't know when she'll be back." He said, "and to tell ya the truth I doubt I'll be here every time."

"That's okay, just as long as she's okay. Rey honey, Rey please tell Phasma to call me when she gets a chance okay?" Rose's voice floated from inside.

She only nodded, her eyes still glued to the truck. Ben worked on that truck now that she thought about it, she could remember the way he looked covered in specks of rust and grime, how he laughed as she gave him the tools. But the red paint on the truck reminded her of the blood, of how it looked against the pale skin of his stomach. She swallowed dryly. Maybe he was okay, maybe just maybe he was healing properly.

"I'm sorry Poe cant say bye, I'm afraid he's still asleep." Rose murmured, acting as if she wanted to pull Rey into a hug but stopped herself. "I'm sure he will be happy the next time you come back though. Stay safe."

Rey nodded, and set off towards the pickup truck. She didn't have much, but her book bag felt like a burden on her shoulders. 

She didn't bother looking behind her, she knew what she would see, a worried mom. A little boy peaking from the upstairs window. 

 Jackie

She thought it was going to be awkward, but strangely it wasn't. 

It felt nice, if she were being honest to herself. 

They had packed up later that morning after coffee, and set out on the bikes towards the trailer park. Towards the shit town, the shit car, and the shit life. 

But she was positively happy, in fact, she'd had the best sex she had ever had in her life. It was a little weird, with him calling her a different name, and with him not finishing. But she didn't do it for him, she could care less about him.

She just knew that, maybe just maybe, they could do it again. 

 Her fingers dug into the fabric of the leather jacket he liked to wear, and she leaned closer to him to keep the bite of the wind off of her. The buns in her hair began to come undone more and more as they rode, but she didn't mind them. No, she couldn't get over the fact that he had totally surprised her the night before. He'd acted like she wasn't breakable, he'd pushed her and made her take him for what he was.

He wasn't a lap dog for the old man, she was sure of that. He was just a kid, like her. A lonely kid, but a good fuck.

Ever since he'd come out of the bathroom though, he'd acted stand offish, but she just assumed it was because he knew she used him.

But it wasn't like he didn't use her too. 

So what he was a little weird, she decided as her arms threaded around the muscle of his stomach, she could be the Rey he had so pitifully spilled his guts for. The only emotion that even seemed to leave the statue of the beast.

Rey, Rey, Rey. 

Maybe an ex? A crush?  

She could be Rey.

The bike groaned as he shifted into a different gear and slowed the bike down enough so it would take the slip of the sand that met the asphalt of the highway. They had neared the trailer park, and she could feel her body hum with the tremble of the bike.

She leaned close, her face pressing into the leather of his jacket, and closed her eyes. The bumps in the dirt road were going to make her hurl, but this was nice. He was nice.

Too soon the bikes stopped, and too soon he was moving away from her. 

"Rey." His voice cut through, bringing her to open her eyes and get off the bike without dumping herself onto the ground. 

"Rey." He mumbled again, it was low and throaty. Filled with emotion, and she was confused. He wasn't looking at her, no he was looking up ahead at...

Jackie blinked curiously, the gears in her mind failing to churn right. A little girl stood  just a few feet away, but she wasn't looking at Kylo. No, she was staring straight at her.

The flesh of her arms prickled at the sudden interest of the stranger, who had stepped forward, her thin bony frame swathed in an oversized shirt that fell down around her calves. Her hair was pulled up from around her face, and her eyes were wide with something like pure shock.

"Rey." Kylo said, and Jackie wanted to hiss at him. Shut the fuck up, don't call her that. That's not her name, that's my name. But it slapped her then. It all rushed in like a giant wave of what the fuck.

She looked from the girl to Kylo, and he was shaking. Suddenly looking far too young, and far too pathetic to even justify the fact that he was thinking about a fucking child when he...

Rey, the little girl, began to run. Disappearing down the dirt path with bare feet as black as tar. 

He tore out after her, his combat boots kicking up dust. She began to follow, the instinct to protect the girl running through her.

A hand reached out and blocked her from moving any further. 

"They'll be fine. Just a little tizzy." Snoke smirked, voice liquid and mischievous. His eyes were staring into her soul, like two shiny daggers. "Heres your money, don't talk about any of this. Or I'll fucking find you." 

Chapter Text

Rey

He. doesn't. belong. to. you.

Her mind reeled, and with each slap of her bare feet against the gravel, the words would replay.

The pads of her feet cracked and blistered against the heat of the pavement, numb to the abuse, and every once in a while she would misstep and the knuckles of her toes would catch against the asphalt.

One.

Two.

Three.

A puff of breath that never seemed enough for the splinter in her side. But she didn't care, she couldn't care, she shouldn't care.

She had been running long enough to know where she was going; she followed the imaginary red string to the place where it all started. The place she had not been in god knows how long.

Her legs burned, her lungs ached, and her ribcage- oh man- her ribcage. She wouldn't stop though, not with him so close. Just a breath away from snagging her.

He'd long stopped calling for her to stop, he knew that she wasn't stopping, he knew that. So he followed, falling behind enough to keep up a steady pace.

One.

Two.

Three.

Each step, each second ticked, the replay of the way the woman clutched at him on the bike would splinter through her brain. The way she seemed to fit up there behind him, all grown up, with the stupid look on her face that looked like a look of love.

Rey didn't know much, she didn't understand it all entirely, but she knew that Ben spent the entire week with that woman. Did she do the things like the things in the magazine? Is that why she was able to ride behind him?

No one rode behind Ben, no one. The only person to ever ride with him was...was Rey.

Not any more. Her mind counteracted, there is no reason why he shouldn't be able to have other people ride with him. He doesn't belong to you.

Sweat accumulated on her face, making her eyes burn. She'd wished she didn't change into one of the shirts he'd given her, she wished she didn't wait in her bedroom watching out the window for him to come home. She wished she could understand. What could she do?

Maybe if she could just understand, then she would know. Albeit, the understanding was the most confusing thing of all, she understood most things; but there was something missing, something that came with age and experience.

Her gut fluttered anxiously.

The cornfield had come into view, and she was ready to disappear in it. Glad to know that the stalks were tall enough that she could possibly hide from him. 

Her feet left the side of the road, hissing with relief at the contact with the soft grass, and she quickly worked her way across the ditch. 

She had just made it to the outline of the corn stalks, just a hare close enough to reach out and stroke a leaflet, when she was being pulled back by large arms. 

"Rey." Ben growled behind her as she fought, instantly trying to claw out of his grasp. He smelled like floral perfume, and the more he'd move, the more she clawed into the leather of his jacket. 

She yowled, bleating like a wounded animal. 

"Fuck, fuck." He spat, and instead of ripping her away from the corn he pushed them into it.

She couldn't touch the ground as they moved, her legs kicking, her arms flailing. The overwhelming scent of husks and dried leaves hung heavy within the air, choking her.

The stalks trembled at the spectacle around them, and rustled each time Ben would try to accommodate her flailing. 

A large hand swallowed her face as he attempted to quiet her down. 

"Shut up Rey, we'll get in trouble for being out here." He growled low, menacing. But she didn't care, she couldn't care. He was touching her, he was touching her when he knew he shouldn't be touching her. And she didn't know if she wanted his germs, not when she could smell the woman on him. Not when he wasn't hers, and she didn't quite understand it. 

Her right arm jerked back quickly, her elbow knocking into the flesh of his neck, as her fingernails found purchase on his hand. He released her with a choking noise.

She hit the soil, the air in her lungs ripped from her.

She clawed at the ground, turning over like a cat trying to escape a dog, when he caught her again. Massive hands on her hipbones, the warmth of them seeped through the thin fabric of the shirt, and it made her angry. 

"Rey, baby please." He began to beg, the gravel and warning from earlier lost on full lips that were cracked and bleeding. "Please just fucking listen to me." He rolled her over on her back, and pinned her there.

She fought against him, baring her teeth like a savage, and went to claw at his face before he grabbed both frail wrists and pinned them above her head. 

"I said fucking listen to me!" He whined, his baritone voice cracking at the end. His face was a mess of tears, sweat, blood, and snot. 

"No!" She cried, voice raw in her throat as she pushed up on her feet to try and knock him off. He sat on her stomach, his long legs on either side of her torso, and he looked like the giant that he was as he hunched down to put his face close to hers. 

"No, don't say that shit. I need you to listen." He cried, his jaw jumping, and she was so confused. Why was he the one upset? She was the only one that should be upset. "I cant have you mad at me like this." He huffed, using one hand to take over holding her wrists back, and the other to wipe at his face; smearing dirt and blood across it in the process.

"You...don't....care." She implored, her voice (that never gets used to begin with) was raw and gritty, to talk was such a job that she felt as if she were swallowing rocks. 

"I don't care?" His eyes widened, and his face darkened underneath the sweaty strands of hair that clung to his cheeks and forehead. "I don't care? Don't fucking start with me kid. I care, more than anyone else on this fucking planet, about you." The chitter of cicadas sang around them as they both fought for breath, she felt like putty from running so far.

She only shook her head, no. 

She pulled up, pulling at his grasp on her wrists in the process, she attempted to move him off of her. He was too strong, and he weighed too much. She sank back into the dirt and looked away from his face, her eyes burning into the corn husks that hid them from the rest of the world. 

 "No, no, no." He grumbled, hiccupping, his voice breaking into a whine once more. "No you're not breaking down on me, you're not doing that shit to me. Look at me Rey. You better look at me."

"Fun?" She clipped, closing her eyes to the tears that began to blur her vision.

"Did I have fun?" He moaned, sounding as shattered as she felt. "No, no I didn't have fun. Do you want to know why?" His free hand grasped her jaw, forcing her face towards him, before it smoothed away to cupping her face. 

She should be afraid of him, of the way he was treating her, but he was the only one she'd ever allowed this close.

Her eyes opened and flitted to his own, which were black and bloodshot. The bags underneath his eyes etched themselves in, giving way to the look of someone so close to the brick of losing it. 

 She should have been afraid, but she wasn't.

A head shake told him that No she didn't know why he didn't have fun.

He shuttered, his eyes closing for a moment, before his forehead came to rest against hers. He'd never got that close. He opened his eyes and blinked at her.

He was so close in fact, that she could see the little flecks of gold against the umber brown of his irises. 

"Its because I was so worried about you." His nails dug into the flesh of her scalp. "Because I fucking hate working for that piece of shit. Because he forced me to be around that fucking girl, and he made me work for him although I've got enough to worry about."

"Girl?" she grunted, her curiosity a fire in her chest that threatened to suffocate her. 

His eyes closed, and he huffed a warm breath that smelled like coffee against her cheek. "She's nothing Rey. She doesn't mean anything to me, she was just Snoke's little fucking..." His voice trailed off, and she knew its because she was too young to understand. That he even thought she wouldn't understand, that she couldn't handle what his words could offer to her. But she could understand, and she would. She would understand.

"I wont let anyone ride that fucking bike ever again Rey, I swe-" His voice sputtered, words tumbling out in a strenuous play of word vomit. 

Her mind reeled, and she pushed forward too quickly. Cutting him off by knocking her lips against his. Teeth hit teeth through the thin flesh of lip, and he hissed. 

She pushed forward more, trying to imitate the things she'd seen people do. The things you do when you love someone.

He jerked, reflexively letting go of her wrists, his hands going to her shoulders to push her away. But she was faster, and suddenly she was pushing him back; her arms looping around his neck.

Her mind was screaming at her, she was giving him germs; the worst germs of all. But it shut him up, it made him still.

She worked her mouth over his lips in something sloppy, but he'd seemed to like it. He seemed to like her germs.

An odd sound rumbled from the back of his throat, and the hands that went to push her away only pulled her closer. 

It was awkward, but the way his mouth moved against hers made her heart spike in her chest. He'd always seemed so rough and hard, but his lips were soft. Like what she'd envisioned clouds to feel like. 

It was over too soon, and he was pushing her back with a flush of deep vermillion in blotches across the skin of his face. They sat there, Rey sitting on Ben's lap, and stared at one another for a long moment.

He began to make a clearing sound in his throat, and went to say something when she moved to just put her finger against her lips.

A "This stays between us"  look passed between them. 

She didn't understand, but maybe she did. She surely felt better, although she didn't entirely know why. 

But she knew it wouldn't last forever, she knew that soon enough she'd be reminded that he wasn't hers. That he was older, and he was suppose to have girl's riding on the back of his bike.

He was suppose to be living like the teenagers she saw outside of school, or the ones that were on the tv screen. 

He wasn't meant to stay stuck with her, dealing with her and the pathetic mess of her life. 

But he'd taken her germs, and he didn't seem to mind them as much as she thought he would. 

She wasn't going to do it again, not unless if he did it first. Not when she didn't understand like she was suppose to.

Not when she couldn't tell him she loved him, when the words felt too deep. Too real.

So she curled up against herself and shyly looked up at the sky. The cicadas chirping from all around as the husks reached for the puffy white clouds.

They didn't talk for the remainder of the day, they only lie side by side and watched the world around them.

 Two Years Later

Ben

    "So you like it?" He interrogates, voice raised over the volume of the music.

Slipknot blares over the old vintage speakers that he rigged up in the Dodge truck, Lil' Red Express, that he's been working on for Joe. It's finally done, repainted or bedazzled as Rey puts it, and it looks awfully sharp. 

Sharp enough to race, maybe; but he cant say that just yet.

He pretends to continue tinkering under the hood, elbow deep in grease, but really he just doesn't want to take her home yet. A little bit longer before dropping her back off in the madness of her world.

It'd been a few weeks since they had been able to hang out longer than him just picking her up from school and dropping her off at Phasma's, and its taking a toll on him. He finds himself admitting every little detail about her to his memory like he'd never see her again. 

You never know these days, he tells himself, when really he just feels really fucking old and worn out. The missions have been more and more dangerous, and he's surprised he's even made it this long.

He's only twenty-two, and Joe sees him as a little toddler who pisses and shits in a diaper, so he supposes he's not physically old. Its just the wear and tear of mentality.

But when he looks at her, well, everything blooms and unfurls into light. He's young, life's good, and it's just the two of them against the world.

There's a scuffing sound, the sound of paper being unfolded, and he leans across the leather seats to turn the music down. And just as he's pulling himself out of the truck, a piece of wadded up paper is shoved into the cavity of his chest. 

He looks at her long and hard; her eyes are shiny and wide, the edges of her thin lips are cast downward. The freckles on her cheeks had grown a lot more prominent over the past few years from being out in the sun with him. Her skin had turned golden after all this time, while his just turned cherry red with blisters.

He is caught on how her skin glows in the lighting of the shop when she looks appointed at the crumbled paper in his hands.

He clears his throat and smooth's the paper out just long enough to read it.

Rey,

Your the prettiest girl. I like you a lot. Will you go to the school dance with me? You don't even have to talk.

__Yes      __No

-Tom

*You're

And no I will not go to the school dance with you, I have a boyfriend. 

He's laughing before he can stop himself, the scrawled font of the boy is surpassed by the clean cut expression of her handwriting. Its better than any handwriting he's actually seen when he thinks about it.

"I...got....detention." She states, a small smile playing on her own lips as she eyes him.

"For what?" He coughs, trying to stifle the laughing. "You punch him or sumthin?"" It hasn't really processed itself to him why she was showing him the letter, its one of those things that is just simple kid shit that goes on.

She nods, and her hair is beginning to fall into wispy strands around her face. The buns had worked for awhile, but now that her hair was getting longer it was becoming harder to adjust them without it looking as neat as it use to.

He fidgets for a moment, half wanting to braid her hair, and half wanting to inspect the reason why she had showed him this.

"So why you showing me this? Seems to me you got yourself all figured out." He neatly straightens out the paper as best as it'd go and hands it back to her before turning back to the truck.

"Boyfriend." She states, and although he likes that she's not much of a talker; it's pretty hard that she hadn't grown out of it after all of this time. But its her, and he couldn't have it any other way.

He half turns, the hair on his neck standing when he catches her looking at him, which is something she'd always done. But in that moment he'd just thought of it as kid shit, but... He swallows dryly and shuts the hood of the truck with a loud bang. It echoes. "What, you gotta boyfriend? Whose the guy, and I'll beat him up for ya." He winks at her, but he has a sick feeling in his stomach.

She's silent for a bit as he cleans the tools up and puts them away with dedicated precision. You wouldn't think it when you looked at him, but he liked order.

He is in the middle of wiping his hands off with a dirty rag when she says "You."

And it takes him back to that night, in the meadow, under the stars.

His chest gets all tight feeling, and he feels too hot all of a sudden. Did she remember? Of course she remembered, it was Rey. Rey had the memory of a damn elephant. 

"Honey Bun," He smiles, turning to face her, when it's his heart that feels wild in his chest. Shes acting all shy, like she didn't just say they were together. "You got it all wrong. I'm not your boyfriend, for one, I'm too old for you."

He watches as she glances down at her worn and tattered combat boots, they're held together by black duct tape and they look awful. They'll need to go shopping soon, he knows it just by looking at them.

Shes just growing fast, that's all.

"Second of all, you're like twelve. You gotta go and experience the dance shit, and all the other shit that kids your age experience. Remember what I told you?" Hes talking, trying to play it cool, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knows shes being serious. Real serious. 

Rey doesn't joke around, not like that. 

"Don't...grow...up...too...fast." Her voice has deepened ever so slightly over the years, but the rasp in it has never faltered. He wonders if she'd ever grow out of the way she speaks, and hopes that she doesn't.

"Exactly, I mean look at me." He plops down in front of her, his legs popping from having to squat. The denim of his pants are tight and uncomfortable from the heat and sweat. "I'm as shitty as you get, you don't want to be like me baby girl. I've made it my life goal to make sure you make it through school, college, that you're guaranteed a good life. You cant go and screw it up by being the girl of a jerk like me, right?"

You're too innocent, too smart to be in a place like this.

Her face screwed up, and he quickly adds. "I mean, you're already my girl, but..." A sigh. "I'm, I'm not the kind of guy you want to be proud of- you know? We're friends, and I'm going to make sure you get out of this place. But as far as boyfriends go...well you're too young for that shit anyways." 

But she doesn't give up, not even a little, as she crumbles up the paper and shoved it into the nearby trashcan like it's a burden. He can tell by the way she carries herself, that she hadn't changed her mind, so he says the only thing he can think of.

"School dances are a big deal. You're suppose to like boys, and dances, and I don't have any business in taking you away from that kind of thing. I just don't wanna take you away from that stuff."

She doesn't say much the rest of the time they hang out, and it bothers him. 

It roots into his soul, and all he can picture is the fact that she'd waste her life away and not be able to experience what he failed to experience. She deserves normalcy, especially now more than ever.

So why is it that he cant get that through his head? Why is it that the thought of little Rey going to a damn school dance, all but makes him cringe?

 Its because she's not like that. She's not like a lot of the other kids, Ben.

"You do understand that I married my wife when she was fifteen?" Joe embarks later that evening, the old man is looking older than usual and sports a cheery smile. " I was like twenty-seven?" His white eyebrows shoot up in a thoughtful way that tells you he's considering it. 

"You don't understand boss, she's only twelve. And I don't know what to do..." He leans back in the rocking chair next to old Joe, and feels the wood groan underneath his weight. 

"Whats so wrong with that? You scared she wants to marry you or somethin?" 

"Actually yes," He grumbles, his hands pawing through his shoulder length hair in agitation. "Shes not exactly boy crazy you know? Shes suppose to be hormonal and shit cause of her age, shes suppose to have crazy crushes and weird little flings. Maybe, just maybe itll change, but I don't need to be screwing up her life like that. By getting in the way, like that."

"Whats so wrong with her wanting to marry you, son? You cant be like that. You cant sell yourself short. You deserve a good life too ya know." Ben glances over at the weathered eyes of Joe, they are sharp with wisdom, and they crinkle at the edges from a smile. Hes always trying to tell him shit like this, but he hates himself too much to really ever take it as it is. "Just be careful is all I got left to say about that." He shuffles, pulling a pipe from his pocket and begins to fiddle around with it before puffing off of it.

Ben just leans back, he looks away from the porch, from the old man, and watches as the day turns soft around the edges. The night air sifting in with a cold front. It's not winter yet, but September is coming to an end.

Hes only got a few months before she goes on winter break at the Hux house. He doesn't know why he thinks this, but he lets it sit with him for a moment before heading home. 

Rey

She now knows that her first kiss was with Ben. 

But she thinks that some days he forgets; he can be forgetful, after all.

She stays awake at night thinking about it sometimes, thinking about the way his lips were the softest thing she'd ever felt.

They were the only soft thing in her world full of razors. And shes tired of being cut, shes tired of the deep craving in her bones that aches for something normal.

He seems so distant now, its as if he's slowly pushing away from her the more time passes. Maybe he's just busy, he's just busy...

But she cannot help the deep underlying craving for affection; something that comes with familiarity, with love, and family.

The soft embrace of a hug, the feeling of holding a hand; but she knows this all comes with a price.

The price isn't as sharp as it use to be, but it still cuts. The feeling of being dirty, of having a rotten soul. It all makes the cravings worse.

Because even though, sometimes she wants to pad her way down the hallway and into Phasma's room, she knows its for the best that she didn't.

There is too much pain, and a person can only take so much.

That's why she doesn't talk, doesn't open her mouth, because she knows the moment she opens her mouth. The pain, the germs, the suffering; it'll all just claw it's way through her and find purchase in the minute cracks of her soul.  

Shes learned over the years that it never gets easier, it just gets bearable.

Her mind titters back to him.

She finds herself wishing, for a moment, that she could take his pain away. When in reality she's sure that she's more scared of opening herself up, of showing him the dark pieces embedded underneath her skin.

She doesn't want it to burden him. Hes already got the entire world on his shoulders. 

He doesn't need hers. 

Its late into a Friday night, when she first hears it. 

A soft clinking against the glass of the window to her room. It's so soft that she almost finds sleep again before a voice seeps in.

"Rey." Hs voice is too deep to go unnoticed, and it wakes up every fiber in her being. 

It'd been months, maybe even close  to a year, since he'd come to her in the middle of the night.

It wakes her up more than coffee ever could.

Tired limbs carry her to the window where the shadow of a man sits waiting for her. She opens the window, reveling in the cool breeze mingling with the dying summer heat.

"Hey, sorry for uh waking you." He slurs, and he reeks of alcohol. But she doesn't care, shes just glad he's there. 

The soft distant hum of a party tells her where he's come from, as she takes in his messy appearance. Ragged leather jacket, dirty white tank top, and ratty jeans. It's more than any boy at school has to offer.

She stands there, her mind whirring with unknown feelings, and watches as he stares up at the full moon in the sky. It basks his features, giving the large scar etched across his face a whole new meaning, and it is beautiful in a strange unfiltered way. He looks a little older than he did all those years ago, but its only in the way his eyes crinkle at the edges. At the way the sharp edges of the bones in his face protrude within the darkness. 

"So, found a good swimming spot. Its not too far down the road. A little lake out in the woods. It didn't look too bad." He rambles, and it's enough to have her climbing awkwardly out of the window. At this point she doesn't care where they are going, as long as she's by his side.

He doesn't bother helping her as she crawls out of the window, she's all awkward legs now, and its not as easy as it use to be. She's just happy that he knows her rules. No touching.

It doesn't stop him watching though, as he leans against the edge of the house, she tells herself that he only watches to make sure she doesn't fall.

He'd catch her if she fell, at least.

She's on her bare feet because it's Georgia and she doesn't care any more, she likes to feel the earth underneath her, it makes everything feel more real. And she looks at him as if to say lead the way, but he already knows; they have both perfected the lack of speaking at this point. They both know one another, or that's what she likes to think. 

He sets off within the dark, he stumbles at first but rights himself in a way that tells her enough; he's not wasted, he's just tipsy. He drank to make the pain go away, but he's still here. He's still here.

It does things to her heart as she follows behind him, staying close enough that she cannot lose him, but far enough that if he stops she wont run into him. 

The darkness lingers in the shadows, but the full moon lights the pathway in a soft ethereal glow. It sparks up that mysterious feeling one gets, the feeling of being nothing and everything all at once, and it makes her tremble with excitement. They make their way past the trailers, keeping low, as he leads them towards Snoke's trailer in the back. It's been a hot moment since she's been around this area, but she knows what she'll see. Typical crowds, typical clients, typical goons, and typical Phasma carrying on loudly over the music thrumming through the walls. 

As they pass through the outline of the trees, far enough to hide in the shadows so no one will see them, she peers at the trailer through the yellow florescent glow just past the window. There is a woman there, and she can barely make out anything other than the fact that there is a man behind her, bending her over a bed. Their naked bodies burn into her mind just as quickly as she recognizes what she's looking at. 

Her eyes jerk away from the sight, her face growing hot, and nervously glances at Ben who is only looking ahead; like he's on a mission.

He hasn't seen, but she did. She saw it, and now she cant unsee it. 

"So, it's in here about a mile past the...shed." He murmurs, and his voice grounds her back to the moment. It makes her wrap her arms around herself and over the old grungy Metallica shirt he gave to her. The shirt and a pair of panties is all that she has on, and she's more conscious about it now within the darkness. "But I'm not going to get you close to that shit, so...well." He pauses, and stops stiffly. "So, what I'm trying to say is, uh is it okay if I pick you up? Carry you? I don't want you getting lost out here." A sigh, and the rustle of clothing as he shifts nervously, " I don't know what I would do...if you got lost."

She stands there, allowing the silence to creep in as she considers his question, and she understands what he means. He's just worried, and if they get caught she could get killed; especially if she was found on her own out here. She looks back behind her shoulder to the soft glow of the trailer that is further back than she realized, and she nods within the darkness. She thinks that he didn't see it at first, maybe it's too dark, but he does.

He does and he crouches down in front of her. She doesn't understand, this has never happened before, and her mind goes blank as she just stares at the worn leather of his jacket.

"You suppose to get on my back," He grumbles, his voice slurs just a tad before his arms do a little flail, "Come on, I promise its okay."

Well if you promise. Shes hesitant and tells herself that this is okay, that its okay. She walks up to his back, and his large hands pat his shoulders. 

"Put your arms around my neck, and I got your legs." He grumbles, and his body is radiating so much heat.

She wraps her thin arms around his neck and awkwardly leans in, completely confused since shes never done it before in her life.

He moves quickly, standing up, his large hands grasp at her legs and pull them around him. The absolute width of his back is so much bigger than she realized, so her legs dangle awkwardly at his sides She squeals, caught off guard, but catches herself before she lets go of him. She's so high up off of the ground, and her heart is racing rapidly in her chest as she blinks with surprise. He only chuckles, his hands lingering at the revealed flesh of her thighs as if to make sure she wont fall. 

"Just hold on tight, and I promise we'll be there soon enough." Then he wraps his arms around her legs to secure the hold before disappearing into the darkness of the forest. 

The crickets chirp loudly, and it is so musical and lovely that the gait in his step makes her eyes droop sleepily. She doesn't bother watching the trees, or their surroundings for that matter, she just focuses on burying herself into his jacket. Motor oil, the deep musky scent of rum, black coffee, and something like a campfire. It takes her into the most relaxed and meditative state that she doesn't realize that they had made it to the destination. 

It felt like it didn't take that long, but then again she had been half asleep against his back. 

She feels him crouch down again, although he doesn't really have too, and he lets her go. She slides down the jacket and onto her feet before peeking around him at the lake. 

The lake is decent and pretty big, and sits there calmly reflecting the full moon across it's surface. It's actually very beautiful, surrounded by dense cypress trees that twist charismatically at the waters edge, hiding the water from the rest of the world with beautiful roots that come to life within the darkness. It is so dark between the trees that she almost misses the faint flicker of a firefly.

Ben and Rey stand there, side by side, for a few minutes. They become so quiet that the forest comes to life around them, the crickets sing, and the darkness flickers with tiny starlight. There are so many fireflies that it makes her throat tighten, and she knows that he didn't physically make this place, but she somehow feels like they were both meant to find it together. 

 She feels a soft buzzing underneath her skin, of excitement, of being alive, and in that moment the demons that flock around her simply cease to exist.

She's not a nobody, she didn't kill pa, shes not dirty or disgusting. Shes Rey.

Quickly, not really thinking about anything but the water, she sheds the oversized shirt from her body because she doesn't want it getting wet. She keeps her panties as she squeals happily, running to the water's edge, not stopping until her body splashes obnoxiously against the placid surface. The water looks like black ink against her skin as it moves around her, and she dips underneath the surface. Its very cold. So cold that when she comes up to the surface she's trembling, but she doesn't care as she gives Ben (who stands there on the bank like he'd just seen a ghost) the worlds biggest shit eating grin. 

Ben

 Hes not sure what he was expecting.  But it isn't this.

Hes all locked up with shock, and too fucking tipsy to really think straight. So why did he take her all the way out here? What was the end goal?

Oh yeah, the dance. Making up for the dance at school. 

"I er." His eyes flicker away from the lake because seeing her naked has burned him in ways that he cannot understand, "I know that the school dance was tonight. I figured you wouldn't go, so I thought about doing something special for you."

For a moment there's silence, and its enough to get his head on straight. He probably looks like a fucking idiot, so he swallows it back and just tells himself its the rum talking, its just the rum.

"Beautiful." Her voice puffs from the water, and it's so soft that it's almost completely covered by the crickets.

It is beautiful, he knows its beautiful, but hearing it from her lips makes his skin prickle with happiness. Finally, i've done something right....all I need to do is not fuck it up.

He moves to plant himself on his ass on the bank, because he's not getting into the water. Not with her being partially naked. His hand snakes out and grabs the band shirt from it's crumpled doom on the bank, and makes to folding it in a fashion that wont get it as dirty. He does this record time before he hears splashing and looks up again. 

Shes just swimming around, and it puts him back. It makes the irritation from earlier drift away. He was a little aggravated with her, she should have gone to the dance, date or not. She should have gone and just had fun with all the other little guppies, but no- she had to spite him. Prove him wrong with her intellect and nerve. 

So he had to go screw it up by rewarding her, by showing her: hey, its okay that you skip out on important school shit to hang out with an older man who could possibly be an alcoholic. Who possibly loves you a little too much but doesn't know how to feel about it. 

He swallows dryly and runs his hand over his face. Its the rum, that's all it is, the rum.

"Not... swimming?" Her voice, its so light tonight, but maybe its because she's happy. She looks happy. He allows himself to look at her, even for a few minutes, because he cant see anything but her shoulders and her face. Shes only twelve, theres nothing to see, but he doesn't care. Its Rey, and hes trying to protect her modesty or whatever.

"Nah. Not tonight." He gives her a smile, a soft smile, the smile that says I wasn't expecting you to strip down to nothing and get into the water.

Her little face scrunches up into a pout, but not any pout, the pout. She glides closer to where he sits on the bank, and he can see the gooseflesh flecked across her skin, and he wants to die because all he wants to do is just touch her. A little touch; a hand, her face, anything to prove that she's real and he's not hallucinating. 

"Please?" And shes never talked this much, this easily, as she beckons for him to come in with pruney fingers.

Her eyes twinkle in the darkness, and he blames it on the moon. The soft ethereal glow plays magic on her skin with twinkling droplets that dance and cling to her. Her hair is down, and it hasn't been down in so long; it's gotten so long, he thinks, as he watches the way it clings to her shoulders and neck in little dark tendrils. He shouldn't be watching her like this, but she seems to like it as she flashes him another one of her famous grins.

She never smiles, but when she does; it stabs him in the gut. 

"I've gotta watch out, don't want anyone walking up and ruining this." I don't want to ruin this. He makes a show of glancing around him towards the darkness of the trees. No one knows where this place is, he only did because he likes to get shit faced, and he likes to walk when he gets shit faced.

"For...me?" She asks again, and it makes the rum in him go straight to his head. A funny high feeling washes over him, and he doesn't even smoke any more. But its there, and it makes his heart flutter in his chest.

"Ugh." He grumbles, his eyes finding hers as she sits in the water close to the bank, she's deep enough that it saves her modesty. Her lips pout, and her nose is scrunched up in a look that lures him into action before hes even thinking about it.

The leather jacket comes off instantly, it makes a scuffing noise against the leaves of the bank, and he stands up quickly.

He shouldn't strip down like her, but he wants to, he wants to because she makes him feel like a fucking kid again. His fingers grasp at the tank top that clings to him with sweat, and he peels it off with a soft sigh. He does all of this quickly as his mind races, chortling all sorts of nonsense as he pulls his belt off and slips off the jeans.

And then he's racing in, not trying to counter the look on her face, as he pushes into the water with a giant fucking splash. 

There you little shit, you happy now?  His mind purrs, and he's laughing as he breaks the surface because the water is so cold that it winds him. When he comes up and wipes the hair from his face, he doesn't see her, and he's left standing on the lake bed. It's pretty deep, where he is,it goes up to his shoulders with depth. He counters it and realizes that she had not swam this far out earlier, and he stills within the water. Does she even know how to swim? Is that even something he was aware of?

His heart thuds nastily in his chest, and he realizes that the coolness of the water sobered him up a little. 

She breaks the surface towards the bank and sits there staring out at him with wide eyes. He cant help but grinning with relief.

"Come 'ere you little shit." He calls, and it echoes around them. Its so late into the night that the full moon looks so big and round. "I wont let anything happen to you." 

He doesn't know why it surprises him when she does come to him, doggy paddling in short strokes, her face just barely above the water. 

He's expecting her to stop a few inches from him, but she comes barreling into his chest. her legs subconsciously wrapping around his stomach. Skin to skin, arms around the neck, legs tightening around his waist, and all he tries to focus on is the fast beating of her heart. She doesn't know how to swim, not like she needs to anyways. 

He subconsciously pulls her closer, his arms wrapping around her, and shes so fucking small he can hardly stand it. He trembles within the darkness. Shes shivering and shit, and he should be taking her out and wrapping her up in clothes, but he's not. He's not because he's a fucking bastard.

"Shh its okay, its alright, I'm here." He says instead, his voice rumbling in his throat. His own heart has picked up in his chest. 

Her skin is so soft that he cant help but shiver. She looks up at him, eyes wide and glassy, before she gives a small smile. The okay, that whatever the fuck this is, is okay.

"You should've told me you couldn't swim." He mumbled, bringing her close, pulling her into a hug that never happens because she never lets him this close. 

He never gets to touch her, and maybe that's why its making him feel this way. Maybe its just the lack of, making everything else so important. And it is important, with the way his large arms engulf her and bring her close, of how her little head fits under the grove in his neck. 

She pulls back, and so does he. He lets go of her and she swims back just enough to move her arms through the water, but she doesn't release her legs from around him. They barely even touch together, if they even wrap around him all the way, either way he doesn't try to concentrate on that. Its not about that, its about the forest, the night, and the moon.

Shes watching him, her eyes trailing along his face before they flicker down to his arms. Her tiny hand comes up and presses against the tattoos on his biceps, and her brow furrows like she's never seen them before. 

She probably hasn't, its not like he tries to take his shirt off all the time, or his jacket for that matter. 

"The date my dad died." He grumbles as her fingers trace the roman numerals etched into his skin, and the tips of her fingers run his blood cold. Her left hand trails from the roman numerals to the four-leaf clover just on the inside of his arm. Its etched in and faded from over the years, but she cracks a smile when she reads Lucky Mother fucker that's written just underneath it. "If you're going to look at all my tattoos you're going to be looking all night." He chuckles and she stares at the ink on his arms as if to say Alright, bring it on.

Her hazel eyes are dark in the night, but he doesn't miss the way she looks at his skin. Maybe she likes it too, maybe she craves it as...

He groans, its caught in the back of his throat, as she wriggles closer. He can feel her then, warmth in the cool water, and he knows with the rate they're going he's going to get hard; like a fucking idiot. 

He hasn't moved at all, his arms are floating shamelessly within the darkness of the water, as he allows her to cling to him. She's touching him, he's not touching her. He tells himself.

Her tiny hands go back to the roman numerals, and she looks at him. Really looks at him. He knows what she wants by that look alone, he knows from over the years, and he knows he will give it to her. She's never asked about his background, about his life, about him. So it surprises him that she's asking him now, when he can barely see the hint of her chest through the surface of the water. He swallows back the hurt, the pain, the reason why he was drinking tonight. 

Its actually funny how the universe works.

"My dad died tonight." He murmurs, settling into the water, feeling the way his skin becomes accustomed to it's coolness. They had both stopped shivering minutes ago, and its probably because they're both so wrapped up in each other. "Well, not tonight...he died on this date about seven years ago." She made a face and he smiled. "it was cancer, and the bastard had it coming."

Her eyebrows shot up, and it was so cute he couldn't help but laugh a little. Her fingertip trailed the tattoo on his arm, as if to ask why he had a tattoo of the day.

"Baby girl. I do plenty of stupid things." He chuckles, ignoring the way her legs tighten around him. "but this tattoo, believe it or not, is not one of them. I know it sounds fucked up but, well, I got the day tattooed on me 'cause that day changed my life forever. It was as if every burden, every little thing that went wrong in my life -at the time- had just stopped." His right hand subconsciously went to her lower back, and he could feel the bones of her spine protruding through the skin. His fingers trailed up her spine, something that he wanted her to think was comforting when really he just couldn't help himself.

She waited, listening without even bothering to acknowledge his hand. But she did, he saw it on how her flesh pebbled in chills, and in the way that her nipples hardened against his chest. He swallowed dryly, hoping his dick would cooperate if he continued talking about his shitty life.

"Now, I have to deal with the scars. You see, my dad, he was not a good man. He had a hard life, and lived life hard as he got older. He's one of those people that would be fine one second, and then he'd be breaking a beer bottle against your head. You know? You couldn't hug him without him putting a blade to your throat. I-" He stopped talking, his hand stilling, and his jaw locked up. Her eyes had begun to get wet and glassy with tears. He wasn't even crying, or upset really, but this was something he had to live with every day. The PTSD with coming from a shitty family. From a mother who had worked so hard in trying to change the man, to having to be put on medication because she'd lost it one day and attempted suicide. To a father who was a lunatic that should have gotten help long long ago. 

No, he wouldn't tell her those details, or any details for that matter. There were too many, and she didn't deserve to carry his burdens, not when she had so many of her own. Besides, just as his father would always say "many other people's got it worse off boy, so stop your fucking crying."

"You're not alone." She huffed, big fat tears rolled from her sweet round eyes and his heart shuttered within his chest. No, no he wasn't alone. Not anymore. He had his demons, but the girl... He looked at her, his hand skimming up her spine ever so slowly.

He had his demons. And little Rey knew how to play with them, she knew how to soothe them, to make them go away even for a little bit. 

But she had her own, and he liked them very much. "Neither are you." His voice soothed. He felt better, much lighter than before, and its probably because of the fact that he hadn't talked about his sperm donor in years. He should call his mom, see if she's doing well. He should do many things, but none of them mattered as they both lingered underneath the water.

The night was getting older, he could feel it with the way it buzzed around them, and with the way the full moon had shifted in the sky. A few more hours and the morning would break through. But it didn't matter, they were together, she was there in his arms. He smiled, caught up on stupid feelings, when she squirmed in his arms. 

She wrapped herself around his neck again and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

The touch alone stole his breath and whited out his brain in pure bliss. His hands found their way down her sides, feeling the bones of her hips cut through the thin material of her panties, before they cupped at her bottom. Just feeling it, feeling her, and the warmth of her skin. It brought things out of him, it made him stupid.

He kissed back, his head cocking a little to give her more room as she pressed soft kisses into him. She was so innocent, and so awkward, that he couldn't contain the low groan threatening to spill from him. His thumbs rubbed circles on her lower back before he gave a little squeeze. Nothing too much, it wasn't too much, but it was enough. He pulled her closer, wanting to eat her alive, maybe crawl into her skin. Little Rey.

Miss sunshine.

Her lips were so soft, and she tasted like earth because of the water. He craved to taste her, really taste her, and maybe if he could...he could...

He shuttered, his dick painfully hard. What was he doing? She was twelve years old, and he was a grown ass man fondling her in some fucking lake. 

But he was being a gentleman, he didn't start it she did, and its been so long since their last kiss. He's missed it in his odd sort of fucked up way, and when he's thought about it, he's hated himself for what it does to him. 

If it were any other girl, he'd have his cock buried so far-

He shuttered. "Rey, baby girl, we've got to head back." He pulled from her, trying to do it in a way that she wouldn't freak out. He knows how she is.

Shes so fragile like glass, and he cant afford to fuck this up anymore than he has already. 

She makes a noise in the back of her throat, and it makes his dick twitch. 

I'm so fucking sick in the head. What is wrong with me? 

"Don't give me that you little shit head, we've got to head back." He swallows, trying to compose himself, trying not to look down at the way her body has grown over the years. "Before Phasma gets a bug up her ass and tries to go looking for you." They both know its a lie, but she pretends to believe it.

 Now if only he can pretend enough to actually believe the fact that any of this didn't actually happen.

Chapter Text

Ben

 Miss Becky Haymes sat just a few inches away, with her beautiful button nose and blue eyes, and peered through him like she knew his every secret.

Like she knew that he masturbated shamelessly to her every night, or knew the fact that she was his high school obsession.

She was perfect, and the cheerleader.

The Cheerleader. 

Which was a big deal for her to even notice him long enough to pick him up from the side of the road. A even bigger deal for her to let him in her expensive car, because he was soaked to the bone and covered with mud.

The biggest mind blower that she didn't even ask him why he was walking on the side of the road with a black eye, in the middle of one of the worst thunderstorms of the century. 

She'd just told him to get in, and he did it without hesitation.

She was so beautiful, and so sweet.

He was only a freshman, and she was a senior. And he thought he was in love.

So he sat there, dripping all over expensive leather, shivering against the rush of cold air blowing on high from the car vents. She must've noticed because a small pale hand reached out and turned the nob to the controls, saving him from freezing to death. 

She looked so grown up behind the steering wheel, a cigarette dangling precariously from her plump lips as she fiddled around with the radio station. The rain muffled everything though, and she seemingly gave up with a slap against the power button.

 He eyed the cigarette, wishing he were it so he could be closer to her. He'd never smoked before, but if he could have a chance to look that cool then he could maybe consider. Yeah, that's it, if she liked it- he'd do it. 

He just wanted to fit in, after all. He was tired of being the freak. The loner, the gangly boy, the boy that shows up to classes with bruises. 

Her eyes glistened from the orange of the dash lights before they flickered over to him. 

"Wanna drag?" She asked, cigarette bouncing before sucking in a long drag. Cheeks hallowed, and smoke danced from her lips and her nostrils in a way that made his skin hot. 

"Uh...yeah." His voice, which had not dropped at all, chirped. He was all limbs and had not hit the first growth spurt yet. Momma said he was a late bloomer, Dad said he was a pussy.

Miss Haymes didn't seem to mind as she took the cigarette and passed it over, her hand barely caressing his as he took it with trembling fingers. 

He'd never smoked in his life, but he'd do it to impress her. He sucked on it and instantly began to gag, his throat on fire and his lungs burning. Smoke puffed out of him, and he couldn't stop coughing.

His high school crush only laughed, stealing it back. 

"Ole Solo," Her southern drawl rang as she shifted the car and drummed her opposite hand against the steering wheel. And he could have died from hearing his name on her lips. She knew his last name, that was a big deal. "I picked you up and didn't even bother askin' ya where you lived."

He'd noticed that, but her acknowledgement made him stifle himself. He was red in the face, and he could feel his ears burn with embarrassment. He cocked his head to the right, wishing he could hide his ears before she realized what she was doing to him. Once upon a time he'd tried growing his hair out, but momma kept cutting it short, but she s aid it was more handsome that way. If he was more handsome, then why didn't anyone wanna be around him?

"Yeah uhh, I live...I live on the east side of town. Near Hansgrove Lane." He stumbled, his voice cracking from the fact that his throat felt like it was bleeding. 

"The old homestead house?" Her eyes lit up and her knuckles turned white against the steering wheel. 

He'd tried to keep his eyes on her face the entire time, like the gentleman he wished to be, but she  was making it hard as she shifted just slightly in her seat. The skirt she wore rode up just enough to show off the pale flesh of her thigh, and it was just enough skin to make his pants get tight.

He nodded, shameful, his hands clutching at his baggy hand-me-down jeans. He hoped for a second that he could disappear into the black oversized hoodie he wore, but it was impossible.

"Its a good thing I was heading that way." She chuckled finishing the cigarette, before snuffing it out in a half empty beer bottle, that sat in the cup holder that separated them. 

He glanced forward, trying to tear his eyes from her, from the fact that she was in touching distance.

The rain was so heavy that it blanketed the night in a cloudy haze.

A flash of lightening cracked across the sky, lighting up the road just enough to see a few feet. 

"You a virgin, arentcha?" Her voice oozed, and it sent little prickles down his spine. He didn't speak for a moment, and instead glanced down at his hands which sat within his lap. 

"I take that as a yes." She answered for him instead. 

Of course he was a virgin. Who would want to have sex with a fourteen year old boy who had bad cystic acne, bad anxiety, and could barely look you in the eyes to talk to you? He'd been told enough as it is that he had an ugly face, and he was too skinny. It all made sense, but it burned either way. Just as it always did, and probably even more so, with the fact that the hottest girl in school was practically bringing it to light.

He chewed at his bottom lip, his stomach turning nauseously. 

"I think its pretty cute." She said after a long bought of silence. They were almost to his house, but he wished that it were farther so he could spend more time with her. He didn't want to go home yet, not when dad had specifically told him to walk. He was learning a lesson after all. He'd been walking for the last two days, after being dropped off in the middle of the woods, after dad specifically told him he had to learn how to be a man. 

Ben was too much of a pussy, and he had to learn how to survive on his own before bothering to survive the rest of the world. Or whatever. Sometimes the lessons were hard to pin point, but he knew they were lessons. They had to be. Why else did his dad kick him out of the truck?

"R-really?" He mumbled, and for a moment he felt more manly than he had in his life. Even if she'd called him cute. He couldn't help but shy from her direction and instead watched the tiny raindrops run across the passenger window. 

"Yeah, and if I'm being honest. I didn't know you were this cute until you got in my car and ruined my seats." Her tongue clicked against the top of her mouth, and he finally glanced over to find her eyeing him curiously. "You got a big dick?"

His heart seized up and he felt like he was about to pass out. "What? Uh...uh oh um er." 

"Maybe the next time I see you, I can find out?" She practically purred. "or now. I got time, but I figure you've got a bed time or somethin'."

His ears began to ring. "Oh no, I don't have a bed time." He sputtered. He'd never thought this would happen. He was drenched to the bone, and hadn't had a shower in a few days because he'd been stranded. It was a school weekend, and what? 

As soon as the words left his lips, the car squealed against the pavement as she winded down onto a dirt road and flicked the headlights off. The darkness trickled in, making his heart beat savagely in his chest. He couldn't stop staring at how the rain fell against the windshield of the car within the darkness. It was beautiful.

The lights on the dash burned orange on the interior of the vehicle, casting a glow against her pale skin. She unbuckled and turned to him.

"You cant talk to anyone about this, got it? If you do, I'll make your life a living fucking hell." Her voice growled, and he was seized up with shock at the fact that she had turned the headlights off, not to even mention the fact that she was addressing him in a manner that meant she was going to see his dick.

The very dick that wanted to see her, like a lot.

He was already hard, and she must have known from just looking at him because her round face broke out into a toothy grin. One of her hands reached up and pawed the long blonde hair, that fell in ringlets around her face and shoulders, as she leaned across the seat and planted a soft kiss to his jaw. She reeked of beer and cigarettes, but he couldn't have it any other way. Not when she was touching him, and no one ever touched him. 

He wanted to kiss her so bad, but he wasn't going to force it. It was bad to force things, and if she wanted to kiss his neck he couldn't possibly oblige. 

Tilting his head ever so slightly he could feel her nibble at the prominent adam's apple of his neck. Her hands were feeling up on him that he couldn't place the sensations, he wanted to learn them all, but too much was happening all at once. It was all so new and his skin tinged with a slow fire that begun to burn. 

He was overloaded  by the time her fingers drifted to his zipper, and blew his load too quickly. His body shuddered, and his hands grabbed hers to still them. Her beautiful eyes looked at him because she knew, she knew and she smiled like the little crown cheerleader that she was. 

"Can, can we do it sometime? When its a better time...I...I've had a rough night and I want it to be good for you." He stuttered, his voice fumbling out of him in a whoosh. It took her by surprise, and her sweet smile faded. 

"Good for me? You're fucking kidding me right?" Her voice clipped, and she yanked away from him to sit back in the drivers seat. Her lips were parted, and he'd wished he had a chance to actually kiss them. He felt nasty though, his boxers were ruined, and the warmth from his cum made everything worse. 

"N-no?" His nerves were jumping and he was shaking so bad that he couldn't control himself. He needed a shower. This had to be right. "I don't care about me...I just want to be good enough for you."

She gaped at him, her face a mask of horror, and before he could blink she was crying.

"You're fucking kidding me right? You're playing a sick fucking joke?" She was screaming, her voice burning his ears. His head dipped ever so slightly with confusion as he finally looked her in the eyes.

He never liked looking people in the eyes, because that's when things got real. He couldn't ever look dad in the eyes because it was asking for trouble. 

"I'm not playing a joke. I would never do that to you." His throat tightened, and he'd never seen her upset before. In school she was always so happy. 

"You're a fucking asshole Ben. A. Fucking. Asshole." She clicked on the headlights and revved the car up before spinning out of the mud and back onto the highway. She was shaking, her face was red. "You act like I fucking matter, like you fucking pigs care about anything more than your fucking dicks." She was cussing and it was burning into his skin, lighting his heart alive. He'd never heard so much cussing in his life, and it sounded so ugly coming from her lips. He wanted to hear more. 

He didn't understand, was it truly wrong to care about a girl? You were suppose to put them before yourself? 

He wanted Becky more than he'd wanted anyone in his entire life, and somehow he found a way to fuck it up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset." He whined back, trying to cover the fact that he wanted to cry too. Crying was for pussies. He couldn't cry. 

"You're fine, just never had..." She huffed, hiccupping. She'd stopped bawling and instead stared at the road. She looked tired, her eyes glassy and wide. Numb. She looked numb. "No guy has ever given a fuck about me, you hear me? Benny?"

He shook his head yes, thankful the rain had let up just enough for her to catch the road sign. They had made it to his road, and he was so close to getting a shower and going into his room to cry.

They sat in silence as her car barely made it through the pot holes and the mud that slicked the road. The car revved, and wriggled sideways onto the loose gravel of his property. 

It was about half a mile walk to the house, but he wouldn't have her driving up there. Not so late on a Sunday night. Her headlights would wake everyone up.

"Y-you can stop right here." He hesitated as the car rolled a few more inches and hesitated to a stop. The rain came in sheets again, and the darkness hid the whereabouts of his house. It was barely visible to the road anyways. 

He sat for a moment, shocked of what had happened, even more shocked that he'd never expected Becky Haymes to be this way. She was always the good girl, so the new information tinged his soul.

"Hey look I'm sorry about that." Her voice rushed out just as soon as his fingers went to find the door handle. "I will make it up to you, you actually seem like a nic-"

He didn't hear the rest of it, not when the door to the car was ripped open, and he was being sucked into the dark veil of rain and darkness. He watched Becky's face go slack with fear, her plump lips hanging open. He wanted to tell her its okay, but it wasn't okay. Actually it wasn't okay at all, and he was so scared.

A noise left his throat just as the air left him when his back hit the gravel of the road. Head cracking against the loose rocks. 

Large hands gripped his jacket, digging into his flesh, waking him up long enough to bring him into the real world. But she wasn't leaving, she was just sitting there with the door wide open, getting her already ruined seats wet. He burned with embarrassment and fear as she watched the first blow. Cracking against his sternum so hard that his eyes rolled, and his hands pawed into the rocks to find purchase. He couldn't fight back, he never could, dad would just hit harder.

"What. the. fuck. do. you. think. you. are. doing?" The deep graveled voice of his father huffed, each pronounced word landing a blow everywhere but his face. Ben choked on the rain, his eyes burning and blurry. 

He wished she'd call the cops, he wished she would stop this hell. But she didn't, she just watched the spectra with wide eyes.

He couldn't see anything, but he could feel everything. His father was hidden by the darkness and the rain, and Ben couldn't find himself to even open his eyes as he forced himself to think about Becky's kisses on his neck. Anything other than this.

The car revved, and the sound of the door shutting echoed through his mind along with the loud hum of rain against the mud and gravel around him. 

A hand reached up and grabbed what hair it could on the top of his head, and his body was being dragged up the front lawn. It hit him then, Mom never let him grow out his hair because it'd be ripped out anyways. 

He was being thrown against the front porch, and rolled into the embrace of the house that jutted out and kept the rain off of him. The sound of boots echoed against the old wooden floorboards of the porch, it blended in from the sound of rain against the tin roof.

Pop, pop, pop. Like little gunshots. Each one going straight to the aching in his soul.

"I told you to walk." Han's voice growled, but Ben didn't dare to move or open his eyes. He wasn't done yet, no, he had to be completely surrendered. "Answer me."

"Yes sir, you said for me to walk sir, and I did." Ben's voice cracked.

"So why the fuck were you riding with some whore?"

"Because she insisted I ride with her, and I didn't want to miss school in the morning."

"You know I would have gone out and gotten you, right? You really think I'm that horrible?" Han's voice dropped, and it warbled with unfamiliar emotion. It was like venom, and it burned. "You know that girl's just gonna use you right? She don't love you. She aint ever going to love you."

He couldn't contain it anymore, and he began to silently cry. His body bunching up into a ball on it's own accord.

"Look at you, crying like a little girl. Go on now, get it all out." Dad's voice chuckled, and the sound of the rocking chair creaking echoed across the porch. "You done woke your momma up, and its one in the morning boy. You better make it up to her."

Something within the pits of Ben's soul ached, blossoming into the pure anger he never showed anyone. Momma should be helping him right now, calling the cops, trying to get away. But she wasn't, she was weak. She didn't give a fuck about anyone but herself.

"That girl, she touch you?"

He shook his head quickly, his jaw clenching to keep from screaming. No, no, no. She didn't touch him, he didn't want her to touch him. He's not worthy to be touched by her anyways.

"Ben, son." His voice echoed, "love doesn't exist. It aint ever going to exist. What you feel for that girl, its pure lust. Its just an instinct that tells you that you gotta reproduce. If you don't believe me, then by all means go out and fall in love, see what'll it'd do for ya. Its going to break your heart, and I know you aint gotta heart. Not if you anything like me, and you're too much like me."

The rocking chair creaks, and the foot steps come closer. A massive hand grabs the collar of his soaked hoodie and lifts him from the crumpled fetal position. "People like me don't deserve love." Ben whimpered, knowing what his dad was going to say before he'd say it.

It earned him a chuckle, and some dark part of him relished at the fact that he could get his father to chuckle. "That's right boy, that's right."

Phasma

She'd said he use to be a good kid, that it was his old man that fucked him up.

She didn't really care though, she'd been fucked up on whatever Snoke gave to her earlier, and she was trying to relish it when the little blonde kept talking about Kylo. 

The blonde had only seen a glimpse of him before he'd left the party, and it was like the little girl went crazy about it. She was more fucked up than Phasma was at this point, and she wants to think her name was Beth?

Beth? Beth didn't sound right, now that she thinks about it over afternoon coffee. She's still high, and the coffee was a craving as she stands alone within the kitchen.

She was waiting on Snoke to pick her up and take her to the grocery store, shes hungry and all the food in the fridge turned bad last week. But shes got stamps, and they'll get her enough. Her and the kid.

The old digital clock that sits on the counter against the wall reads 3:45 in bright red numbers. Rey should be off from school, she should be here soon. 

She glances around the house, blinking out of a daze, and looked at it as if she hadn't seen it in years. Perhaps she hadn't, not really, her mind has been so screwed up on that old man.

But he did things to her, for her.

Her blistered fingers tapped against the orange mug anxiously. 

He hadn't showed up, he was suppose to show up an hour ago.

Hes fucking cheating. Her mind pricks as she moves to set the mug down. No hes not cheating, hes not cheating, he told her she was his woman. That they were going to get married, have babies. 

Hes not cheating, she reassures herself and busies her mind by looking at the interior of the trailer. 

Once white walls dinged yellow by cigarettes, peeling wall paper, furniture with odd dark stains. The floor, the rug, is so dirty that its warped and black. There's even a hole that she never noticed before.

Her throat goes dry, and she blinks back tears.

I need to get high. Her mind screams, I need to get high, but hes fucking cheating on me.

The sound of a car door shutting echoes, snapping her into reality. She begins combing through greasy blonde hair that hangs pitifully around her shoulders, she attempts to fluff it out with sore fingertips, and wipes the dried mascara from under her eyes. She checked earlier and she looked pretty good, no need to worry about it. But she cant help it, she just wants to be pretty enough, better than the other fucking bitches in this shit hole. 

The door opens, and the kid walks in. Just as expected, the big motherfucker walks in behind her. 

Becky.

The girls name was Becky. The information flickers for a moment as she fights with the dread in her stomach. 

Its not Snoke, its the kids, just the kids. 

She eyes Rey, watching as the little girl clings to the old book bag on her shoulder, it's almost bigger than her. She disappears down the hallway and into the back room where her room is.

"I'm taking her out." Kylo's voice rumbles, and its been a week since she last saw him. Last Friday, maybe. Yeah. It was last Friday, had to be last Friday. Because today is Friday, and the last Friday he'd come in the middle of the night with Rey bundled in his arms. They'd both been soaked to the bone. 

"Where to?" She clips, gravitating back to the orange mug that holds the special juice, it grounds her although its hot outside. 

Kylo gives her a look, a like you fucking care look, and she knows hes been wanting to bitch her out for forgetting to feed Rey. But its not like the kid fucking eats anyways. 

He stays by the front door, which is odd considering he usually follows Rey to her room. 

He looks rough, like usual, but she can see the bags under his eyes from all the way across the room. Plus hes fidgeting in his normal ratty attire that shes starting to think he doesn't ever change out of, but she cant pretend her shit don't stink either so she keeps her mouth shut. 

"Taking her out in the new Dodge I just fixed up, we going to be riding." He answers, and hes always too fucking slow to answer. It's probably from all the trauma he's experienced over the years. Old man, Snoke, and everything else in his life. It all seems like shit, shitter than hers even, and she's pretty low.

"You guys be careful." She nods, flashing what she calls a motherly smile, before she sips at her coffee. There's too much sugar and cream but she doesn't care.

Rey

"You know you can lay off the fucking drugs and take care of the girl, right?" Ben's voice echoes throughout the trailer, and worms its way into her skin as she hurriedly changes out of her school clothes and folds them neatly against the drawer. They're not dirty so she can re-wear them a few more times. "It wouldn't hurt if you gave half a fuck, not even a whole fuck, but half."

"If you give so much of a fuck about her, then why don't you adopt her yourself?!" Phasma's voice booms, cracking like a firecracker. She sounds so tired, but Rey knows its just the drugs. 

"You know I cant do that." His voice rumbles, torn and it makes Rey's skin prick, his voice is so low, and it reminds her of how he looked when she'd gotten into the truck after school. He looked torn, and jumpy, like he'd had a bad nightmare. But it was the flashbacks, the trauma, she knew it even though he never told her. 

Today was a bad day, so it was weird that he was trying his hardest to make it a good day. 

She hurriedly pulls on a yellow sundress, its one of the dresses she never wears, but she wants to wear it today. Because Ben's having a bad day, and he hasn't given her much attention since they went swimming. 

Maybe if she puts on the dress, maybe he will see that everything is okay, that she's just happy being around him. 

The dress is tight around her torso but flutters out around her waist, it makes her look like a little girl, and she thinks about ditching it for a few minutes before swallowing the feeling. Its soft and cotton, and she stares at herself in the mirror for a long few minutes while the arguing continues far off in the house. Its muffled, and its background noise as she turns slightly to get better angles. 

Her hands come up to her chest, its sore, but its nothing compared to some of the other girls in her grade. They're not flat chested, they're like the women from the magazine that Ben has. 

She bites the inside of her cheek and runs her hands down the soft material that falls around her knees, the dress is modest enough, so she just shrugs and pulls her hair down from the messy three buns she attempted earlier this morning. She wants her hair down because she knows he'll end up wanting to braid it back anyways. 

She pulls her combat boots back on, and smiles at the absurdity of it that contrasts with the dress.

She finds them both growling at one another like two deranged dogs fighting over a bone. It doesn't surprise her, they always fight, unless if they're both partying and then they just ignore one another. 

She rounds the corner and stands there quietly as Ben swallows back words and looks at her. He's never seen her in a dress, and it shows on his face as he looks at her. 

"Jesus kid." Phasma huffs from across the room, her hair is wild and the bones of her face poke through her skin that reminds her of the skeleton studies in science class. 

"You look.." Ben smiles, it replaces the scowl of the day and it makes her feel better. "Come on, lets go riding. I got something to show you." He never finishes his sentence as he waves his hand for her to follow him, and opens the screen door for her. He hasn't drank anything, and it makes her happy because he's here. He's in the moment, just as she is.

They walk out on the porch, which groans from his weight, and file into the old red Dodge that he hadn't stopped talking about since the day he finished it. He'd surprised her at the school with it earlier, and she was happy until she found him glaring out the window at a blonde woman. She'd never seen the woman before, but it was probably because she was the new kid's mom. Rey just shrugged her off, but now if she thinks about it hard enough she thinks that maybe she's the reason why he was acting so weird. 

She forgets it as soon as shes embraced by the smell of motor oil and leather. It reminds her of Ben, and she buries herself into the seat. 

He climbs into the driver's side and slams the door before the engine roars to life. "Beautiful." He murmurs, and she thinks he's talking about the purr of the engine; but a part of her hopes that its the finish to his sentence from minutes ago. 

She smiles either way, and cranks the window down. 

They ride in silence, but its a nice silence. Its the silence that she loves when she is with Ben. Its comfortable and she doesn't want to be anywhere else but right here. 

"You feel like racing today?" His right eyebrow twitches upwards, and she finally gives in and looks over at him. She's been trying to contain herself from outright staring at him, and she doesn't know why she does. Something in her wants to just watch him, because something about him seems different than it did, but its rude to stare.

She nods as he side glances at her, he hasn't really looked over at her since they got into the truck, instead, his knuckles whiten against the steering wheel. He's tense, she can feel it, but she doesn't let it stress her out. That's just how he is sometimes, and even though she doesn't like it; she cant help it.

 "Come over here, let me get you wrapped up." His voice was so soft and soothing as his arms opened wide. He had not put on his clothes yet as he kneeled on the bank, his knees digging into the moss there, as she watched tiny droplets roll across his skin. He was trembling like he was cold, but it wasn't cold.

She pulled herself from the water, feeling the coolness in the night caress her own skin. Okay, maybe it was a little cold.

She walked into his arms willingly, loving the way his warm skin brushed against hers. It was so comfortable and she could lose herself in it if her mind would allow her to.

He made a noise, like he was trying to clear his throat, it was something he'd been doing all night so she ignored it.

"Lift your arms up, let me put on your shirt." His lips brushed against the side of her face as he leaned against her to pick up the folded shirt from the bank. She looked down, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly at what she saw.. It was so dark that it was barely visible, but his boxers clung to him. They were a soft grey, and they were rolled up on his thighs which were much larger than they appeared to be within his jeans. But what she saw, was exactly what she'd seen in the magazine back at his house 

The curve of it against his thigh, the way it twitched ever so slightly. Her mind went blank, and he was moving away from her with the shirt in his hands.

She closed her eyes, pretending that she didn't just look, and smiled as she felt the cloth of the shirt scratch against her arms. She shivered as the tip of his finger traced down her arm along with the fabric of her shirt; the nail scratched ever so lightly against her collar bone, and left the softest trail against the curve of her side. It caught against her ribcage before dipping against the seem of her panties.

She opened her eyes to find him looking right at her. 

"You still cold?" He asked, his face was so close, and she didn't necessarily understand why he was shivering so badly. So she nodded anyways, and watched as he stood up and snatched his leather jacket from the bank. "Put this on, and ill carry you back home." She clutched at the leather and stood there awkwardly. He smiled, and turned his back to her just as her eyes flicked down his body. He was a giant compared to her, compared to anyone actually. 

He put on his clothes quickly, stumbling slightly as he put on his pants, and turned back to her as soon as he finished. His hair was wet, and stuck around his face; it revealed the ears that he so desperately tried to hide. It made him look young, and it reminded her to put on the jacket; which she did willingly. 

It was heavy but it felt nice against the cool breath of night.

"It looks better on you than it does me." He huffed, and he was being so weird right now. Casting shy glances in her direction, and trembling in ways that she'd never seen. Ben was always tough, solid, statuesque; he wasn't right then, he was raw and emotional, and finally she didn't feel so alone.

So she just smiled and let him pick her up like he'd done before. 

 "You going and daydreaming on me?" He laughed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. The radio was playing now, and it surprised her that she hadn't even noticed. It was an odd song with a lot of bass, but it was low enough that it didn't matter. "That's fine, we are almost there anyways." He announced, turning off of the highway and onto a dirt road that she'd never been on.

Dust kicks up around the truck, and she wonders when it was the last time that it rained as she watches the trees creep in on the path. They stay silent as the Ben drives them farther in before taking another path, it is one that doesn't even look like a path at all within the trees. They wind in, and just as it feels like the truck wont fit through the density of the forest, the forest opens up into a massive clearing.

It is man made, and it is littered with at least a hundred of cars. 

"Hey, stay by my side, okay? I don't trust these bastards as far as I can throw them." His voice rumbles, and she unclips the seat belt as they roll to a stop.

Please allow me to introduce myself

I'm a man of wealth and taste

I've been around for a long, long year

Stole many a man's soul to waste

The wind whipped through the rolled down windows as the truck took a sharp left turn, drifting against the slick dirt, kicking up clouds of dust as Ben shifted. Rey tried as she might, held onto what she could, to keep from flying out the window (the seatbelt felt like it was there for looks at this point). She squealed, eyes flickering to the way Ben's arms flexed as he honed in on the task of the race. 

The music is loud, and it chips away at her soul. It reminds her of Ben. 

And I was 'round when Jesus Christ

Had his moment of doubt and pain

Made damn sure that Pilate

Washed his hands and sealed his fate

 A wide grin rips open his face as he shifts again and they take another turn, at this point she has stopped caring about the race, because the feeling coursing through her is otherworldly. It is dangerous, it is heavy with emotion, and thick with adrenaline. The tattoos etched into his skin are more noticeable now that he's forgone the jacket, and shes caught up on how beautiful they look against the pale creamy skin of his arms. 

His gaze flickers to her for a second, and everything is in slow motion. He's in control as he winds the truck down a path, hissing with delight as they just barely pass the other vehicle.

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guess my name

But what's puzzling you

Is the nature of my game

Then its over, the race ends, the truck rolls to a stop, and she is dreading having to sit within it as he goes and converses with the others. Men and women all gleam and glare, watching like wolves as they inspect the truck. She thinks he's trying to sell it, show it off or something useful. 

"You god damn cheater!" A voice leers, and she watches as the other vehicle rolls up to a stop just beside them. Ben shoots her a look, and she knows its the look to stay inside the fucking truck.

"Hey don't talk like that in front of the kid." Ben's voice growls, and they're both standing at the front of the truck. The man rounds it, coming closer to where she sits, his face is pinched and ugly like an old basset hound. It's red with fury, and she watches him with venom. "I didn't cheat, won fair and square. You owe me two hundred." Ben clips. 

The man laughs, its sharp, before he turns back to looking at Rey. His eyes are black and he looks mangy. "Looks a little young to be around you, you a fucking pedophile or something? Huh? You tryin' to be cute for your little whore?"

Her heart drops, and Ben's face goes blank. Ben stands there for a minute peering at the man with a fixation that begins to make her nerves fizz and pop. "Excuse me? What did you just say to me? Don't you dare fucking talk about her like that."

The man, who is older, comes closer and makes a face as he looks at her. Ben begins to move just as the stranger drags his dirty fingers through the window. Rey slaps his hand away instinctually, and grips at the seat belt to let her go before her face is stinging with pain. A loud audible pop rings through her along with the ringing in her ears. The man slapped her, and confusion eats at her as she feels tears weld up in her eyes. She doesn't cry, but she wants to as she cradles her face.

Ben is there, quicker than lightning, clutching at the man with such animosity that the stranger goes flying backwards into the car adjacent to them. There is a sickening crack in the metal as it dents from the blow. The once green paint is chipped and bloodied from the way the stranger's face cracks against it's surface.

She wishes she knew what kind of car it was, but it is something that looks keen on the eyes. It's almost sad to see the damage.

"Oh no, you fucking didn't." Ben's voice is a rumble, and the crowd of onlookers stand shocked as he grabs the man by the nape of his neck and repeatedly bashes his face into the metal of the car. The sound is sickening, and just as she thinks the man's face is going to cave in (more than it already has) Ben throws him to the ground and goes as far as the kick in the door to his car. Ridding it impossible to climb in through the driver's side. The skeleton of the car caves in easily to the amount of exertion Ben puts into it, and soon he is done. Breathing heavily before hacking and spitting on the man on the ground. "Go to fucking hell."

Ben

He should have killed him. Ripped his fucking spine out, made him choke on his own teeth, anything than just leaving him on the ground. He knows the police will get involved, just as he knows that if he stays any longer he will kill the man. 

Two hundred dollars could fuck off for all he cared. 

He snatches at the door to the Dodge and looks at the little girl trembling in her seat. Her right cheek is swollen and red, and it burns him in ways that getting cigarettes put out on him could ever burn him. No, this is worse. Way worse.

"You okay?" His voice is calm, and he tries to keep the malice out of it but she knows hes pissed. Hes practically trembling with anger. He busies himself by cranking the truck and fucking right out of there. That whole place was a big fucking mistake. He shouldn't have taken her, shouldn't have even considered it when he knew he'd be putting her in a bad situation. Around bad people. 

He swallows back anger. "I'm okay." She whispers after a few minutes.

 "Looks a little young to be around you, you a fucking pedophile or something? Huh? You tryin' to be cute for your little whore?" He groans with anger and feels his entire body lock up as they rev on the road and haul ass. He's going to get stopped no matter what, its all in the matter of where, and right now he doesn't want to see that old bastard. 

He clenches at the steering wheel and tries to calm himself down as the words ring throughout his skull. Hes not a fucking pervert, he doesn't like children. He doesn't like children at all. He hates children, cant stand them, and he definitely doesn't want to fuck one. He side glances to Rey who is looking out the passenger window. The yellow sundress looks so pretty, although its spoiled by the fact that hes just fucking stupid. 

He doesn't like younger girls, hes not into kids, hes just into Rey. Theres a difference. And even then he knows there are lines, he knows its just because he cares about her so much. He doesn't love her because she's young and she doesn't have boobs and shes only like-what- twelve?! No, no, no its much more complex. 

Rey is Rey. Shes not just a twelve-year old. She's an angel: pure, innocent, and he cant have the world going and messing that up. Especially not him. 

 They are driving for a good five minutes when he sees the lights behind him and curses under his breath.

Rey sees them too and locks up.

"It'll be okay, ok? Just call Phas when we get to the station, have her come get you okay?" He pulls the Dodge over and unclicks his seat belt. His hand, bloody and raw now that he sees it, grasps one of Rey's and gives a soft squeeze. "Tell them exactly what happened."

Chapter Text

Rey

The smell of bleach both calms her and makes every little nightmare of the past rear it's head. Its a reminder, a subtle echo in which she should be following. 

The plush of leather feels nice against her stiff limbs, as she sits across from the Chief of police, and eyes the untouched glazed donut in front of her. 

"He mentioned someone coming to get you guys, is that right?" The voice is thick, and it is musical. It takes a lot of consideration to not look up and meet his eyes. The Chief's name is Finn, and hes the nicest man she's ever met.

She only nods. Knowing that even though he is nice, that it doesn't mean anything. People can change, can pretend and wear a disguise. That's why she likes Ben, because Ben is himself. He doesn't hide. 

"Is your cheek feeling any better?" The deep southern drawl brings her back, makes her look up and finally meet his eyes. They are dark and chocolate, like Ben's, but they are much warmer. She nods and readjusts the icepack that has numbed her fingertips and the swelling. They become silent once more before he shifts uncomfortably and his brow furrows. "Whats a little girl like you going and spending time with a man like Ben? He don't mess with you right? Aint doing anything to you that makes you uncomfortable?"

They eye each other and she shakes her head. No.

He only nods, relief spreading across his face, and she knows he's one of those that trust's the opinion of a kid. Thinks she's too young to tell a lie. "Hes been in and out of jail all his damn life kid. Got a knack for beating people to a pulp, but over the past few years he's been doing good. Strange enough. For awhile I thought he was getting his life together..."

It is late into the night, but its not too late; and she is starting to fidget with the fact that its been a few hours since she's called Phasma. She glances at the digital clock on his desk, and then goes back to committing the donut to detail. She's ignoring the rambling from the man; she already knows Ben. Knows him enough to not hold his past against him. 

 Then there is a knock, and the reception lady is there at the door. She looks in with her eyebrows raised. "Ms. Phasma is here, with bail and for the kid." 

Except that it isn't Phasma, its the blonde lady from the school. She stands tall, long hair in beautiful curls all around her head, and shes got enough makeup on to pass as Phasma. Rey knows though, and stands stiffly as Finn walks out and practically beams. 

The woman is beautiful, a denim sundress hugging her body in all of the right ways, and when her eyes set on Rey her whole face lights up. "Hey baby girl." And her smile is too bright, too happy. Rey steps forward anyways, playing along as she goes and stands near the stranger, who surprisingly doesn't bother touching her. Maybe Phasma sent her instead, maybe she didn't want to be at the station because of Snoke and the drugs. 

With a side glance, Rey finds the woman doesn't look like she would ever be caught at the trailer park. She's like the sun reincarnate with a round face, and a button nose. 

"I am so sorry for the inconvenience. Ben always likes taking her out, but I never expected this to happen." Her face falls and worry furrows at her brow as she peers from Finn and to the ice pack in Rey's hand. 

"So Ben and Rey always spend time together like this? This is normal for them? This is okay?" Finn starts, he is impossibly tall, but he is not as tall as Ben; and he is not as big. He stands a little too close to Phasma Who Is Not Phasma, and he smiles too much. 

"Of course!!" She beams back, not even flinching. Her drawl echos that of Phasma, but Rey knows. The woman is just a good pretender. "They're always together, I wouldn't trust anyone else with my kid. I mean look at what he did! Practically folded that guy in two for this little darling." A hand goes to settle between Rey's shoulder blades, she dreads the contact but it never happens. Its almost as if it hovers, and her skin prickles with the anticipation of it. 

"Well hopefully he doesn't go around doing that anymore, but if anything comes up. Anything at all." A pearly grin, and a card produces from Finn's person and he passes it to the stranger. "Call me."

He then turns to Rey, just as a door rattles down the hallway, "And here is my personal number, if there is anything and I mean anything, do not hesitate to call me." and she is being passed a small card with messy scrawl on the backside of it, which is slightly smeared but otherwise readable. She stares at the card before she hears the rough sound of a throat being cleared. 

Ben stands, he is not cuffed anymore, and he eyes the stranger. Assessing her with a face so calm, before he breaks out into a loud grin. Rey knows its fake, and it unnerves her how he can make it appear so real. 

"Thanks for coming." His voice rumbles, and his jacket along with his materials get passed to him. He turns and puts on the jacket before pocketing his wallet and pocketknife. 

"Anything for you guys." The woman beams, she doesn't move though as she stands there. She looks surprised, happy even, and it makes Rey's chest tighten up. Ben notices Rey's discomfort, and he chuckles. 

"You scared enough for today?" He steps closer and squats down, his arms open. "Come 'ere and give me a damn hug you squirt. I was worried sick about you, you feeling better?"

She finds herself rushing forward, not wanting anything else, as she digs herself into him with tears burning tracks down her cheeks. She cries, and she never cries. It is silent tears as she smears them across the leather of his jacket, and takes in his scent. She feels him lift her up into his arms. Shes too scared, and tired to care about anything other than the fact that he is back.

"You guys have you a good night." Finn calls as the trio walk out into the brisk night air and towards a yellow Cadillac. 

"Wheres Phas?" He grumbles as he reluctantly lets Rey go and opens the door to the back seat. She glides in and situates herself by buckling up, before she watches him climb into the passenger seat with long legs that bump into everything. 

The woman files into the driver's seat, and she smells sweet. Like vanilla and honey. "Passed out at the house. Took too much." She closes the door and digs around in the center console for a cigarette. She does this for a few minutes, and Rey can tell shes nervous by the way she curses under her breath and trembles ever so slightly. She finds the cigarettes finally, and looks up at Ben who is eyeing something out the window.

"Becky, why are you here? You got a family, a kid." It is just a mumble. She flicks the lighter on, and pulls at the cigarette before cranking the car.

"You don't have anyone else, besides Phasma would have never made it out here, she would have made you stay all night. Hell I'm surprised you didn't have to stay the night." The car lurches out of the parking lot and rolls down the road at a comfortably slow pace. "and the kid is at home with his dad for the weekend."

"Thanks, but why are you here Becky? You've been looking for me ever since you moved back into town. You think this shit is going to fix the past? Its not, its never going to fix the past. What happened, happened. There is no way around it but to accept it and move on." He doesn't look at her as he watches the night out of the window, unaware of how Becky flinches. 

"I know, I know I fucked up. I shouldn't have left you that night, but I was young and stupid."

"You didn't know me." He finally looks at her, and his face is pinched with anger.

"But I wanted to." She growls, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. "I still want to."

There is silence, it is thick and it makes Rey fidget uncomfortably in the seat as she tries to watch the outside world pass by in shadows and blurs. 

"You never tried to in school." He started. "Didn't even look my way, never even acted like-"

"I didn't know what to do!! Okay? I didn't know what to do, you changed my life that night. You made me realize-" Her voice cracks with emotion, and when Ben grips the leather of the seat it squeaks loudly.

"Not in front of the kid, alright? Shes already had enough bullshit today. I don't even want to drop her back off with that pathetic bitch at the house, but I need to. I got things to do tonight. People to see." He growled and his head leans back. One of his arms twist around the seat and his palm opens up with invitation. He wants her to touch him, hold his hand, and she does so immediately. Needing it just as much.

"What you going to kill that man? No, Ben." Becky says. "If you give a shit about the girl, you need to stay out of trouble. Out of jail."

Rey squeezes the rough texture of his palms, her hands looking peculiar within his own. She gives another squeeze of reassurance and receives one back.

Everything is okay. Everything is okay.

"I know..." Everything becomes silent for a long time, before the woman takes a turn off of the road and onto the familiar road to the trailer park. The sign reflects back to them like a bad reminder. 

"Becky, stop looking for me. Okay? You're a good girl and stuff, but take care of your kid, and stay away from this place. If you want to make shit up to me, just stay away from this god damn place." Ben warns over the idle of the car before getting out, Rey follows silently.

 Poe

"Mama says that shes thinking about having you during the summers too." He speaks up that night. Rey just arrived for winter break with her oversized denim jacket (that looked like it belonged to that man) and her over sized sweaters. Shes grown a lot more than when he last saw her, but hes grown more. He relishes looking down at her when they stand side by side. Although fourteen and rotten to the very core, Poe cant find it in himself to pick fun at the girl who shares the room with him. 

He gives her the bed, and takes the futon that his mother had dragged out of the garage; and he feels like he's accomplished something with himself.

But it’s the soft frown that traces her face that sends him into anxiety. "Oh, you don't want to stay?" He asks, sad now as he sits on the futon and watches her curl up on her side on the bed. Shes so quiet, but he understands. He thinks he knows her out of the two years of her visiting on winter break. 

"Its not that." She whispers in that breathy way of hers, and he finally decides to lie down as well. Feeling much bigger on the futon than he did last Christmas. 

"You miss him?" He says it like he understands, and he thinks he does. He has no one to understand, not until Rey comes, and sometimes the boy from class who shares his lunch. 

She nods within the semi-darkness, the light from the lamp on the dresser is enough, but sometimes it feels like too much in these moments. 

He doesn't say anything for the rest of the night, because he knows. He knows words cannot describe the feeling, and he definitely knows that words cannot heal it either. Its an emptiness, its what his parents lack, and it is what he craves. 

He understands, but he doesn't. That's life, and its too much for a fourteen year old boy who wants to like girls and be normal. So he swallows it all back, and accepts the silence like he will have to for the following weeks. 

Ben

Two years

   He finds the day circled in his calendar at work. Red sharpie, intricate, and obviously Rey's handy work. April Tenth. It shoots out of the page and clicks in his skull. Its the first time she's ever mentioned anything to do with her birthday, and it makes every fiber of his being sing.

Finally, finally.  

He closes up shop early, and cleans up quickly.

He'd always wondered why she wanted to celebrate his birthday and not her own, but hes got a pretty good idea that its because of that stupid bitch Phasma had mentioned. Ms. Plutt or whatever her name was. He hated the woman, was glad she was dead, because no one should ever make a child believe they should have been better off dead. 

It gives him chills as he glides onto the motorcycle and revs it up before pulling out of the shop.

April tenth. She was born April Tenth, which is now the best fucking day in existence, and he practically beams as he travels down the road. 

The high school juts out of the earth, it's much farther away than the other schools over the years, but he doesn't care as he pulls up on the curb and perches there. Same ole bullshit, bitchy parents, asshole kids, but it all disappears when she walks out the door. His sweater, grey and oversized, is draped over her like its cold outside. He chuckles to himself, pleased as she threads her way through the group of shit bags, and eyes him curiously. 

Hes wearing his leather jacket, and for once has tried looking cleaned up. No scruff, no holy jeans, and no dirty ass shirt. He knows it surprises her, and he knows even more that she understands; by the way her cheeks flush pink. 

"Happy fucking Birthday." He sings loudly when shes close enough, and takes her in a soul crushing bear hug. A few kids near-by glance over curiously as he shields her from the world. If he could swallow her up and hide her from everything he would, but he lets her go and clenches his fist in an attempt of not making more of a scene.

Instead he ignores the sudden attention from the strange masses and gives her a good look. She looks good today, shes much smaller than the other kids and tries to hide it under baggy shit (not that he minds because most of it is his clothes), but she always looks good. 

She stands awkwardly and looks at him in a way that does funny shit to his chest, so he looks away and gulps. She’s fourteen, and she’s growing up too damn fast. It was like yesterday she was eight years old, in a little nightgown with dirty bare feet, walking on the side of the highway and giving him a fucking heart attack. 

There is a tug on his jacket and it brings him back long enough, he glances at her. Watching the hazel in her eyes twinkled within the evening. 

He nods, get your shit together Solo.

She just smiles, face flushed, as she climbs on behind him on the bike. They've gotten a lot better with the touching rule, for awhile she'd gone back to being stand offish, but it seems lately shes warming back up. Its like that, trauma, comes and goes like a cycle. He knows and hes fine with it, because hes the same way. Hes just glad that today shes okay with it as her hand grips onto his leather jacket.

He purposely pushes the bike into an arrogant roar and burns leather right in front of the entire school, before zipping through the crowds and shooting off on the road. 

 “Okay you little punk, what do you want to do?” He shouts over the roar of the engine, as they sit at the stop sign near the road that winds off to the trailer park. He has a feeling that he knows what she wants, but asks anyways. 

Her fist clenches into his jacket as she shifts closer, leaning against his back to nestle her chin against his shoulder. “Home.” Her breath huffs against his ear sending little chills down his spine. She hates yelling so she usually takes to whispering into his ear like his own personal devil; now only if she could shrink and sit on his shoulder.

 “The trailer? Come on now-“ he starts, but feels her chuckle against him. 

“You’re home.” Her voice corrects condescendingly.

“So, a good thing is: I got ice cream, your favorite.” he stands in the kitchen, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up around his elbows with a spoon in his mouth. “ bad thing is- I don’t have any food. So it’s up to you” Spoon points at the girl sitting on the kitchen table who blinks at him like he’s lost his mind. Which he has. “to decide what you want.”

He eyes her curiously, its strange, its like shes glowing. Her hair down around her shoulders in soft waves, with her bare feet that just barely touch the floor. Black leggings rolled up and sag a little on her long legs because they’re just a tad too big, but it’s her smile that lightens him up. Makes him stupid and emotional, because its been about six years, but it feels like he’s known her all of his life. Like it was destiny or something stupid and amazing like that.

Maybe their zodiac signs are compatible, or they’re twin flames or some shit, whatever it was that he over heard at a party. He was too drunk, but it clicked with him anyways. Not that he’d ever admit it.

She eyes the spoon like it’s a weapon, and maybe it’s because he’s putting her on spot (which he never does- intentionally, because she seems to like him taking lead on most things) or the fact that she’s never eaten in front of him. And maybe she’s realizing that he kind of wants her to. 

“Ice cream.” Her voice soft, deeper, but its still raspy and he fucking loves it.

”Just ice cream? Feel like watching tv? Are you sure.” He puts a hand on the freezer handle and turns to her, hesitant. “Nothing else? It’s your birthday, we gotta do something. Celebrate. We can go riding, train hoping, steal from a bank- go to the meadow.” He should have gotten her something, but he’d only found out earlier that morning; and all he could do to prepare: was run to the store grab some chocolate ice cream and come home to throw on something nice. He actually feels shitty now that he thinks about it. 

“I got something.” It clicks, quick. A bulb firing up his brain. 

He says it so quickly that it makes her jump a little.

He takes the spoon and sets it on the counter and leaves the kitchen all together, crossing over into the living area where an old salvaged record player sits on a sad little stand. He works quickly at filing through the records that he’d collected over the years. He shuffled through them for a few moments, trying to figure out the mood when he subconsciously decided on an old favorite. Something to lighten the mood, maybe get her out of her shell.

He carefully pulls the vinyl from it’s shell and smiles foolishly, remembering how he came across this album. Remembering of how it pissed his dad off, but jokes on him because he saved it AND the family turntable. The stylus sings as its lowered onto the record, and makes a shuffing sound before music ripples through the air. He plays with it and brings the music to a comfortable volume.

 "You gotta come and dance with me," he shifts his hips, moving through the room acting like a total fool. It brings a wide toothy grin out of his girl, and thats all he can ask for as he waves her over. 

She comes reluctantly, eyeing him like a wild animal, but at last begins to wiggle underneath all of the baggy clothes. Shes cute, and he offers his hands to her to take. He wont grab her, not unless if she asks. 

She takes them, her hands so tiny against his palms, and they disappear into his as he closes around them and pulls her to him. Shes never danced before, he knows it as she bops around rhythmically. It makes his chest seize up, and it gets hard to breathe. 

Shes perfect, and shes growing up so damn fast. He twirls her, watching as the long hair sways around her face. Her legs wobble a little, and she giggles. 

Its a sharp sound, and it clings to him. Motivating him to edge it further. He wants this to be the best birthday, he wants to give her everything. 

He gets lost in his head, and hardly recognizes her tugging on his arm. Trying to get him to bend closer. He does and she leans up onto her tippy toes, hands balancing against his shoulders, and places her lips against the shell of his air. "Icecream?"

Of course. He nods. Letting the music play loudly as he maneuvers his way to the kitchen. Fixing her a bowl of chocolate icecream, head spinning from  the natural high he gets around this kid. 

He turns and watches as she carefully lowers the music down, eyeing the knobs on the machine with a fixation that makes him stop mid-step. The music lowers to a soft background noise, before she looks over her shoulder and peers at him. 

Her eyes glint, and the afternoon is fading. So he nods, knowing she doesnt want to do anything but be 'home' and walks over to the living room area. There is a broken-in couch, too old and too used to get rid of, and a small box television positioned on a creaky table. He sets the bowl of icecream down on the makeshift coffee table, and grabs the remote, switching on the tele to some random black and white movie. 

She likes old- vintage- things. It explains a lot. He smiles, plopping down on the couch to watch her walk over and plop down beside him. Shes not too close, but he knows that by the time the movie is over she will be curled up into his side. 

Shes alone too much. He knows it as he watches her out of the corner of his eye, while also pretending to watch the old movie on the screen. She blinks at him and then leans forward to get the icecream from the table.

 He turns her way and watches a deep blush filter into her cheeks.  She still hasn't eaten in front  of him, and by the way she eyes him he knows shes not about to. But he chuckles either way, enjoying it. Enjoying the attention. 

They stare at one another for a moment, its locked and intense. And for a strange reason he wants to tell her that hed do anything for her, kill anyone for her, be anything for her. But he holds it in, bottles it up. Its her day, not his to go and ruin it with sappy shit. 

She blinks slowly and he knows shes about to tell him to close his eyes, so he does it. Shutting them, even going as far as placing a hand over his eyes to give her the comfort. 

The sound of silverware clicking against the glass bowl filters through the air, and his heart thrums. Shes eating, shes eating, and its her fucking birthday. And its not like the kid even wants more, all she wants is to spend time with him. 

And who the hell wants that anyways? He couldnt even hang out with himself ninety percent of the time. 

The sound of the bowl being set on the table trickles  through him but he keeps his hand over his eyes. Not wanting to risk anything. 

Hes just not expecting the feel of her body crawling ontop of his. Its so light and warmth and her little legs strain against his thighs as she sits on his lap. It locks him up, because its been so fucking long since anyones bothered touching him.

He hisses through his teeth and goes to take his hand away when he feels her own tiny hand press against his. Stay. Dont move.

His heart rockets off in his chest, and he feels his breath go ragged as the noise from the record player intertwines with the background noise of the tv. Hes so fucking still that all he can focus on is the way her body quivers over him. 

Cold chocolaty lips press against his own, and he groans loudly. He takes his hand away but makes sure to show her that hes not going to open his eyes, no. He wouldn't dare.

She shouldnt be kissing him, she shouldnt be sitting on his lap. But its not like he can push her away. He stays tense, and kisses back after a few moments of her sloppiness. 

Shes sloppy and awkward and it makes his heart burn. 

It melts him, makes him grapple at the couch to keep from grabbing her. Its her birthday, she does what she wants to, but he wont let it go to far. It wont go too far. He swallows, and subconsciously rolls his hips against her. Hes hard, really hard, and the jeans are starting to hurt. 

A soft whimper huffs from Rey's lips, and he consumes it hungrily. Its the only thing he gives himself as he kisses back, his tongue dipping into her mouth. He wants to roll his hips again, but keeps himself from doing so. Its wrong, and hes not some horny teenager. 

She knows he is hard though, he can feel the way her muscles lock up everytime she grinds herself against him. Shes so fucking hot, that he gets too twisted up on the heat radiating through her leggings to feel the zipper of his jeans come undone. Its like cold ice water, and he jerks up slightly with surprise. 

No,no,no. He wants to say, but her mouth moves from his lips and to his jaw.  Its inexperienced, and hes not quite sure if he wants to know where she learned it from. But it knocks him back. 

"Rey, baby" His heart is pounding so hard it hurts. His voice is broken as he feels her fingertips fumble with his jeans for a moment. "We shouldn't be doing this baby." 

He says it, but he doesnt mean it. He should be pushing her off, but his hands stay rooted on the couch. Clenched, knuckles aching.

"Ben." She murmurs, voice raspy and heated. She says it as her hand finds his dick, and he whines in the back of his throat. 

She leans away from him, probably sitting back to look at it or something, and hes too embarrassed to open his eyes. Hes not use to women giving him this much attention, especially sober. 

But its Rey, and her hand is so fucking soft that it gives him the fucking shakes. 

He licks his lips quickly, tasting remnants of her, his throat is tight and he leans his head back on the couch. His throat is offered up like a surrender,  his body punctuated and tense for her to explore. 

Shes fourteen, it makes sense for her to be curious. And ...and he'd rather it be with him, than some kid in school that wants to just fuck her. Its better this way. Its wrong, but he wont let it go to far. 

He groans deep in his throat as her hand attempts to wrap around his length, its too small, but he doesnt care. Its Rey, this is perfect. Shes so perfect. He wants to open his eyes, but he cant. 

Her hand is dry, but its so soft that he doesnt even give a shit as she touches him. Hand pulling and pumping so slowly that it makes his muscles jump in his thighs.

"Rey." He warns, knowing he shouldnt be allowing this. Its good that shes curious, but hes not about to let her finish him. Hes taking advantage of her and her innocence, and they should stop. 

 She crawls off of his lap, but doesnt go far. Her hand still wrapped around his dick, and her mouth comes to suckle at his neck. She knows what shes doing, and he should be pissed. 

Where did she learn this from? He wants to demand it. Hell it makes him want to whip her ass, but the thought of spanking her only makes his dick twitch. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

"I love you." She whispers,  her lips wet against his skin. 

And its enough to run him over. Prematurely. His body locks up, his throat burns with a deep growl of arousal. He comes, abruptly, and it takes his breath away. 

I love you. I love you. I love you.

His eyes open, and the sight of her hand around his cock makes bile burn at the back of his throat. Its so erotic, and thats what scares him. 

He sits for a moment, trying to swallow back the fear, trying to ignore the fact that hes so done with himself. 

"Get off." His voice aches, and hes shaking. He doesnt want to look at her, even though its not her fault,  but he does it anyways. Her eyes are wide and glassy, lips bruised and puffed out. Her golden skin has a glow to it that makes her look like an angel. Innocent. 

Shes fucking innocent, and she should not be doing this with him. Especially him.

His brain whites out with rage, and he ignores the come all over his jeans and her hand as he puts his dick up and claws his way off of the couch. What. The. Fuck. 

His mind erodes, sending little snapshots of her when she was much younger. Adding the salt to the wound by eating at him with the fact that shes too young. And hes a bad person, a bad man. Theres NOTHING okay with this. With any of this. 

Shes staring at him, fear stuck on her face, and she looks like a little doe caught in headlights. 

"F-feel good?" She huffs, hand glistening, and hes stuck staring at it. 

Hes slinks back, the music and the rest of the room comes back to him. Reminding him. His hands come up to his face and he growls against his finger tips. Hes so angry. 

"Rey you dont do that shit. That shit is bad. Look at your hand!" He shouts, his mind whited out with fury, his body shaking. Its not her fault, at all. But hes just so angry that there is no filter. 

She looks at her hand, eyebrows raising. "Its nasty." He shouts, and as soon as the words leave his lips he stops. It was wrong to say that, and he watches as pure self hatred crosses over the little girl's features. 

Shes off of the couch and out of the door within seconds, and she leaves him to stare after her. He just fucked up, but hes been fucking up. 

He dry heaves, angry, as he claws his way to his bedroom. Body numb, and heart racing savagely. He searches blindly, hands outstretched. Lamps and anything thats not hunkered down becomes unhinged and thrown to the floor. 

And thats when he finds it, a little glock pistol nestled and shiny. He eyes it like candy, and his pulse a roars in his ears.

Chapter Text

 Ben

Life's got a funny way of doing things.

Its comical; a real Bill Hick's kinda humor that's gone and run off the pages of some shitty sitcom meant to numb you down to a puddle of shit.

Its the sense of humor of having an abusive parent that hugs you after breaking a bottle over your head. Or a mother who watches with sorry eyes, and moans too loudly in the dead of night. 

Its the love between a monster and an angel; a fucked up romance between a kid and a grown ass man. Its fucked. Its doomed from the beginning, and yet the train rolls on. The people need a show, they need a tragedy.

Its irony. A 'suck the barrel and pull the trigger to an empty gun' kind of irony.

Its life. Every single ticking second, every agonizing beat of the muscle-spasm for a heart.

And when they tell you there is a light at the end of the tunnel, they are fucking lying. All it is, is the sudden knee jerk reaction into the void of darkness.

The cracking of a skull against a counter.

It's something he'd grown use to, the constant need to feel the color leech from the edges of his vision.

To feel every inch of him become cold and numb.

The heart can only slow down so much, can only go so long without enough oxygen and blood. 

All he'd ever been was a lonely man, no, boy- fighting for a chance at normalcy. Fighting the fact that he'd never be nothing more than a boy stuck in a man's body.

No more than the kid breaking his nails by clawing at the wooden planks in the floor, to get away from the ass whipping around the corner. 

No more than the boy crying and begging for a stranger to just touch him. But love had never come as easy as a bruised eye and broken knuckles. 

Love is feral, broken and shattered by the concepts of every romance novella and movie. Portrayed for people that wouldn't even glance his way. 

It had always been the shameful moments of walking into a bad argument, or seeing a mother being bent across the kitchen table against her will. 

"Just look away. Go to your room, ignore it." She'd beg, because Ben could never be a savior. He had no say in this story, even if it were ever his story.

Scratch it, he never had a story. He was nothing, useless. 

And love had never existed, had never been real; until it split his face open.

Until it showed up in hazel eyes and freckles. 

In malnutrition and silence.

Oh god, and did it feel like the first time he could breathe. Like he could see color and taste for the first time. 

But a broken man could never love a broken child, not correctly. Not without fucking it all up.

Ben was a fuck up. He fucked up. He allowed himself to forget; to sink underneath the water and release the young boy in hiding. 

The one that had to sleep in the closet, and eat off of the floor. The one that would have given every ounce of himself to save the little girl. 

And he knows, he knows, if he would have ever met her in another life time. He would have been different. He wouldn't have been such a fucking pussy, and he would have sucked it up. He would have been feral, because love is feral.

And if anyone needed love, it was her. Always her.

It was always for her. 

Apart of him knows that if there was an afterlife, if there was reincarnation, that he would find her again; and again, and again. He'd search until his soul itself withered up and caved into itself.

But she was too young, too confused and wrecked by life to understand this. She couldn't, she shouldn't, want someone like him.

She'd grow and realize how vile and sick he was. She'd just resent him like everyone else.

And its so wrong, so very wrong, because he can no longer lie to himself when it comes to the fact that he cares. He doesn't care if it's bad, something in the back of his mind devours the fact that something so small can love something so messed up as him.

That someone so sweet can look into his eyes and whisper his name. 

How could something so wrong feel so...good? 

He loves her, he fucking loves her, and theres nothing that could take that away.

Not even death.

His mind reels, recollecting every fucked up thought, every memory as he digs his finger's into the metal of the gun. Its time.

Time to let her go. Let her live her life and finally be happy. Let her live her life without him, and go to college. Fall in love with some rich boy who gives her the world. 

She'll have a family, pretty little kids that take up after her; that will never know him. She'd be happy- finally. 

He's saved up enough money, he thinks, from all the years of illegal shit. It's enough to buy her a house and put her through whatever college and shit that she wants. It's written in his will, everything goes to her, everything from the money, to the bike, and even the sweaty shirt on his back. 

He needs to let her go before he ruins her, before she resents him more than she already does.

The barrel clips his lip and sings against his teeth as he puts the gun into his mouth. It's cold and the taste of metal bites at his taste buds.

It unnerves him for a moment, because hes never been this calm in his entire life.

Adrenaline blossoms and he prematurely pulls the trigger. Hes not ready, and the moment burns across his skin. His nerves alight, and every little thing sings.

The gun clicks. Copper floods his mouth as he bites down against the metal of the revolver. He wants to chew on it and spit it out for doing him dirty. 

But its fate, or justice, probably both. 

It suddenly feels too light within his hand, and he realizes that it's empty of a magazine. Quickly, without thinking from the ringing in his ears, he rips through the contents of his drawer and bites back the realization.

She hid the bullets, she hid the fucking bullets.

Rage and something else choke at him as he takes the gun and flings it so hard across the room, that it wedges into the cheap plaster of wall and sticks out like some absurd wall art. 

"God damn it Rey." His voice cracks, and something snaps within him. Making his knees groan against the floorboards, and his body contort in a broken way that feels a little too familiar. 

Everything overflows. Years worth of repressed emotions overflow, and the trauma spills from his pores in a scream.

His forehead bites the edge of the drawer with a loud crack, but the pain hardly registers.

Nothing really registers.

Rey

 The smell is putrid, but the way it numbs and burns is like seeing a friend after a long time. 

Its comforting. The blood, the blistering against her scrawny tan skin. Bubbling up, detoxifying the germs.

She sits staring into the water, watching the way the blood dances across the surface like paint. Its hypnotizing, borderline addictive, because at least shes clean. 

Not clean enough, no, she would never be clean enough. Even with the obsessive scrubbing and bleach could never fix everything.

Shes stark naked, and her skin is on fire; but the cold water counteracts in a hellish way. She finds herself eyeing the bleach bottle that is turned on it's side. Leaking onto the floor. 

The impulse to crawl out of the tub and lap at the chemicals shoots through her mind. Maybe she should drink it, finally get the urge to stifle the true germs. 

Stifle the pain in her chest. 

Maybe it would make her forget the way his eyes turned hard. 

It was over, she knew it was over. He didn't want her around any more.  He didn't love her, how could he love her? 

She was nasty. Disgusting. 

Too skinny, too boney. Too quiet, too ugly. 

Dull, pathetic, dumb. 

Her hand clutches the edge of the chipped porcelain of the tub. Her fingers are numb and bright red, and it looks absurd against the white.

For a moment the house becomes quiet,  her ears ring, and her body sings with pain. 

She doesnt hear it, doesnt even process what is happening until it does. 

The door crumbles; shattering into thousands of little pieces of wood that go flying everywhere. Some ricochet off of her skin and embed into her hair. 

It quiets her world, and she watches in a daze as someone steps into her vision.

Everything is hazy. Nothing makes sense. 

Its the chemicals, they sink into her, make her float outside of herself as she stares up into the darkness of familiar eyes. 

"What the fuck, what the fuck." The stranger spits, his long face is red and bruised. A thin line of blood trickles from a wound somewhere on his forehead. 

But all she sees is the scar, the dark circles rimming his eyes. The scattering of moles across his pale flesh.

He is no stranger. 

She would know him in any life.

She feels large hands pull her up, the movements are jerky and full of something like frustration. 

Hes saying things but she isnt listening. Shes done, shes done.

"Im so fucking sorry, listen to me." His voice warbles and a palm flattens across her face, pawing at the strands of hair clinging to her skin. 

Something loud turns on, its the shower, and she hisses painfully. And remembers. 

Shes doing this for him, shes nasty, and hes here touching her. 

"Get away from me. Get AWAY!!" Her voice growls, it tears from her vocal chords as she begins to fight her way from his arms.

Shes too weak,  and nothing makes sense as he steps into the shower, pulling the drain. His arms wrap around her protectively. 

He knows she is too weak, and she leans into him as the water soaks them both.

"Im never letting you go. Im never letting you go." He is saying, his voice broken. He sounds like a memory from so long ago, one that grips her heart and tips her over the edge. 

She tries to pull away, the fabric of his jacket rubbing against her skin painfully. It feels suffocating; his face buried into her hair as his body hunches over her protectively. It feels wrong. 

How is it not okay to touch him, but he can touch her? 

She is confused, and the ringing in her ears begin to die down to realize the awful sound is her screaming.

Her skin still burns, but she can feel the bleach has washed all the way off by the time he picks her up against him and steps from the shower. 

His skin is warm through the see through fabric of his shirt, and she feels too exposed. 

He doesnt pay attention to her nudity, not in the way her small breasts perk against the cold air, or the way his hand spans the entirety of her legs. 

He carries her shaking form in bridal style through the crumbled door and into the hallway. 

She continues to blubber, trying but failing to fight her way from his grasp. He is too strong, and she is too tired. Stepping from the smell of chemicals and into fresh air makes her head spin. 

"Why did you do that? Why would you do that?" he growls to her, hair clinging to his face as he trails water through the house. His eyes burn into the darkness. "Youre fucking bleeding, is it because of me?" He says, more to himself, and it makes her cry harder. 

"WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, IM TRYING TO SLEEP!" A voice calls from across the trailer, and stops Ben within his tracks. 

She had thought Phasma was out in the drug induced coma, and her heart races for a moment as she buries her face into the leather of Ben's jacket. 

He stops mid step and tenses against her. 

"I COULD BE IN HERE RAPING HER YOU STUPID BITCH, AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING? NOTHING. YOU STUPID PATHETIC FUCKING WHORE. I OUGHT TO BREAK YOUR FUCKING NECK!" His voice echoes, and everything becomes silent once more as she listens.  

Nothing. Of course, nothing.  

Shes being thrown onto her bed before she knows it, her body bouncing against the lumpy mattress that creaks loudly. Fear spikes up her spine as she watches Ben dig through one of the shabby termite ridden drawers for a nightgown. 

Its one of the ones shes kept over the years, pale blue and finally not as big as it use to be.

He throws the gown and underwear at her and turns away as she begins to crawl into the fabric. 

Her entire body hurts, and its so dry that it feels like every little orface is splitting and bleeding.  

She doesn't say anything after she puts them on, she just sits and stares at the wet worn leather of his jacket. 

The light tapping noise of water dripping against the flooring, and it feels like forever before he turns. 

He turns, and he is wild eyed. His throat bobbing, and he looks so young. So broken. 

Her heart hurts, and she flinches like hes slapped her. In a way he has.

Shes nasty. He said so himself.  He doesn't want her. He doesnt want her to touch him, because shes bad. She'll just ruin him like everything else. 

"Rey. Im sorry. " his voice ruptures; deep and rolling like thunder. "I didnt mean what I said, I was confused. Im not use to... to."

"You dont love me." She moans, there it is. Her mind finally talks, and her heart aches within her chest. 

"What?" His voice is quiet, and she tries to clear her vision through the tears but its become almost impossible.

Because the truth is out. Its finally real. He doesnt love her, hes never loved her. Hes just felt sorry for her. 

Its all pity. 

"You. Dont. Love. Me." Her voice breaks, giving out at the moment she needs it the most. She can hardly breathe from the pain in her chest. 

Something crosses over his features, it makes the hair stand on the back of her neck. 

He makes it to the bed in just a few strides, kicking off boots and shedding his jacket, and places himself by her on the bed. Hes hunched up, a giant trying to curl up within himself, as he sits. 

Hes trembling and angry, but he contains it. She watches as his fingers tap against the denium of his jeans. 

"I love you more than life itself, Rey." His voice cracks, and its nothing like she expected.  She expects him to cling to her, expects him to act irrationally. But he sits and stares at a spot on the wall, jaw clenched tightly. 

He soaks the sheets of her bed, but she doesnt care as she curls up on herself. Chin resting against boney knees.

"You love me all the way?" Her eyes linger on the way his adam apple bobs. Her hand, still cracked and festered reaches out and grasps his own. 

He should pull away, but he doesnt. Instead, he looks at her. 

"I love you all the way. In every way someone could love another Rey. I fucking love you." He begins to tremble and he leans in closer, his hand crushing her own. "I never meant to call you nasty. Youre not nasty, you could never be nasty to me." He grumbles. 

They dont say anything as he lies down beside her; looming against her tiny bed. A giant in every right.

He faces her, eyes glistening, lip trembling. 

"Do you love me? All the way?" He says. 

He says it, and she feels it in her soul. 

"Forever. I love you forever."  

Chapter Text

 "You would have never liked me when I was your age." His voice cracks and splinters, adam's apple rolling underneath the pale skin of his neck along with his voice, as he hangs halfway off of the bed and stares off.

"You dont," Rey sideways glances, eyes taking in everything all at once so that it gets overwhelming. "Know that." 

"Uh huh" A grunt, and his dark eyes meet hers from his world of the upside down. They swim and glisten.  The blood rushes to his face in blotches, reminding her of rose petals in late June. "Kid, I was scrawny. Too fucking shy. A total nerd." He is naming off things, seemingly unaware at how lost she gets when she looks at him. 

"Im skinny." She grunts in return, huffing to herself as she looks down at her long thin arms that poke out of the overly large holes of Ben's band- tee. The t-shirt smells of faint raw tobacco and engine oil, just like him. 

Too skinny, too bony, everything boys hate and everything she cannot seem to overlook. She eyes the bones of her knuckles and watches carefully how the skin rolls every time she flexes her hands. Shes fifteen but she might as well look like a ten year old.

"You're perfect." His hand reaches out, and a long finger traces up the side of her neck and along her jaw. It makes her shiver and her mind grow fuzzy like it likes to do when he touches her. She doesn't say anything and instead forces herself to focus on the rotten carpet below her, fingers plucking at the dirty strands. For a moment, she is reminded of all of the times shes tried to clean the damn thing; the rug. The filthy rug. 

"Y'know. If I were one of those boys at your school, I would definitely notice you." He mumbles, bringing her back before the thoughts carry her away.  The way he mumbles, reminds her of the many late nights of lying next to one another in bed. Doing nothing but spilling thoughts. One heart to another. 

It makes her euphoric, and she glances up at him. Hes looking at the ceiling, absentmindedly playing with the stubble along his jaw. 

"Why?"

His brown eyes, so dark although the natural light comes through the window. Its early morning, and Phasma is no where to be found, but all of this is enough to forget.

Forget about the skipping of school, or how easily Ben seemingly plays along, although he isnt one to condone the behavior of skipping.

But the moment he climbed through the window, and stretched across her bed like some wayward alley cat; she knew that the day had started out just as lonely for him as it did for her. 

"Because youre you." His face is so straight and calm. Intense, as it always is. He means it; he must mean it. "The muchness of Rey." 

"Muchness." She smiles. The word tastes funny against her tongue, and the way she says it makes the corners of his lips twitch to life. 

The world is calm for once. The repetitive thoughts are soothed, like little demons being sung to sleep by the presence of Ben. 

She leans back against the bed frame, the bones in her back digging into the metal. It hurts, but shes so close to his face that the pain is forgotten. 

His face is a shade of red apples, but he doesnt move. He just closes his eyes. 

"I love you." Rey whispers. Its not something that she can say often, not when the words dig so deep and hurt so good. 

She has to say it now though, has to, if she doesnt her heart will shatter like thin glass. 

Ben groans deep in his throat, but doesnt move or say anything. 

So she says it again, this time threading her small fingers into the waves of his dark hair. Notice me, please.

Her thoughts focus in on his hair, and a smile plays on her lips unintentionally.

He grumbles,  lips pouting, eyebrows furrowing. 

"I think I have always loved you." The words are so sharp, they cut her to the bone. They hurt in the good way. Like the good things in life. 

"Lets get married." She murmurs in response. It falls out of her mouth, and her heart rivets so violently that it feels like its bleeding in her chest. What would it be like, to be married...to Ben?

"What?" His eyes snap open,  and his massive body rolls off of the side of the bed so suddenly, that the entire house seems to shake. 

She doesnt say anything. She knows shes fucked it up, like she seems to fuck everything up. Her throat closes up and becomes dry.

"You cant be serious, baby." Hes all limbs against the dirty carpet. The carpet, carpet, carpet. The carpet that she needs to clean better. He makes it look good, somehow. 

She clenches her jaw and looks away from him. Its too hard to face rejection, although she has faced it for what feels like her entire life. It makes her ache. 

"No no, dont shut down on me. Im just... surprised. Ya just fifteen, and im like twenty years older than you or somethin'" his southern drawl cuts through as his voice crackles like it usually does when he thinks too hard. 

"Ten." She mutters and hates the way she gets too emotional about the little things. 

He makes a sound that sounds like a mix between a wheeze and a moan.

"Oh, now youre counting??? Huh? Its almost like you know me or something?" His hands snake out and suddenly the world is shifting. Tilting over to the side, until shes on her back, and there is a weight on top of her.

Ben's hair is so long that if falls down around his face. It doesnt hide the look in his eyes. The disbelief, the strange affiliation that she cant quite grasp. But its been there for years, hasnt it? 

 What?

 What, what, what, what?

The way she looks at him, like hes the stars or some shit like that, makes him feel so fucking giddy. 

Giddy with nerves. The in between the 'oh fuck what am I doing?' And the 'I think im inlove or some shit'.

Its been so strange since that day he found her in the bath. The look on her face... the smell of the bleach. It eats at him sometimes, so much so, that he has to just touch her. Always quietly thankful, that he found her in time.

She looks so small underneath him, as he leans in and rests his weight against her. His Knuckles somehow find their way to caress the right side of her face.

"You dont want to marry me, kid." He searches her eyes, wanting to see some sort of uneasiness. But there isnt any. "Youre too young. If anything, we could get promise rings or some shit. But havent I told you to do all the normal things? Go to dances, date boys. Let me beat the boys up."

"I dont like nobody" shes fumbling over her words, her voice cracking as the hazel in her eyes turn sharp like steel. "Nobody but you. I want to get married Ben."

The way she speaks stops him, makes him lock up and eye her with curiosity. Her eyes tell him everything he needs to know.  

"You inlove with me or somethin'?" His skin prickles at his own question, and it scares him. Honest to god scares him. Rey. Rey. Rey.

"Always have been."

"Youre fifteen..." he groans, sitting up and away from her. Trying to give her space. "You havent even given anyone else a chance. Look at you." She sits up too, hair spilling around her shoulders. Cheeks slightly red with anger because she thinks hes misunderstanding her. Hes not misunderstanding, but he knows the line he walks on is something dangerous. It's sharp. She's too young, he's too old. His dad would lose his mind, hell hes probably rolling in his grave, at the thought of his own son marrying a little girl.

It's like a demon and an angel coming together for holy matrimony. 

Oh, but he knows her alright. This relentless, hazel-eyed, scrawny creature of light. His jaw rolls. "Youre beautiful. Im not. Im ugly." For extras, he runs a hand over his face. Let him emphasize it, give her a good look, and make her second guess herself. 

Teenage girls love to second guess themselves. Especially when it comes to this love type of thing. 

Shes shaking her head before he knows it, and stands up. She practically swims in his over large shirt that hangs past her little knees, it only makes things more comical. 

"Ugly is beautiful." 

"No, sweet heart. Ugly is ugly, but its up to you to decide between all of the beautiful and ugly things. Its like they say... beauty is in the eye of the beholder or some shit like that." He shrugs, palming his sweaty hands against the material of his jeans. He's not good at these things, never has been. 

Feelings, girls, life. Himself. 

Things fall into place though, dont they? The good, the bad, the ugly. His whole life churned up and spit out, but it all led up to this.

To standing in her bedroom, her small trailer park bedroom, with the off-color carpet. Her no shoes, long legs, and freckles.

Its overwhelming, how beautiful someone can be. Inside and out.

It makes the savageness of being wrong, quite overbearing. 

He cant help but suck in a sharp lung full, before he's nodding.

He knows what he has to do, he knows it, he knows he shouldnt do it.

But he does it anyways.

"Alright, saddle up. We're going on an adventure."

Margaret Alberny eyes the man across from her, and watches as he pulls a worn leather wallet from the front pocket of his jeans. He is a tall fellow, border lining on excessively broad, and for a moment she doesn't understand what is happening. 

"Go on, pick the one you like the best. Dont even look at the price tags." He mutters, its low and throaty, and for a moment she thinks its a joke. 

Some strange man in his twenties, ragged out like something she'd never seen before. But she knows, in his face, who exactly this boy is. Han's kid. 

The little girl comes out from her hiding, so small that she seems a lot younger than Margaret had first thought. Though the more she stares, the more she realizes its just the genetics. The sad life of poor living, and malnutrition. 

"She your little girl?" She perks, feeling nosy in her olden age, as she taps her long fingernails against the pristine glass. Han's kid grew up to be a big man, a little crooked in the face, but it could be the way he grew up.

The whole bunch was crooked. 

He stiffens up, and eyes her from under his brows. Trying to ignore her by facing towards the girl more than anything. From the look, the absolute dead giveaway, she knows this freckled tan thing isnt anything born from his blood.

It makes her stomach drop. 

The little girl, humming softly to herself to where it is hardly audible to even Mrs. Alberny's ears, seemingly points at one of the rings. Following the action, Margaret knows it's one of the more expensive ones. 

"That one is a pricey pick." She hums, trying to sooth the sudden onslaught raging through her veins. "It's one of our most beloved rings." She means it, because everyone always looks at that ring...that is, until they look at the price tag. 

The girl's face pinches up, and she immediately drops her hand. But she knows, the girl knows, and Han's kid knows that she wants the thing. It's beautiful, handcrafted, and shimmers pure silver like starlight. 

"I'll take it." He grins, seemingly not fazed as he pulls the rubber band (one that is quite literally holding the wallet together) and begins to shift through an awful a lot of green. It sends up red flags, because no boy like this one would be flaunting money like that. Nor would he have that much money to begin with, with what he's wearing. 

He slaps the change down on the countertop and fully turns towards her with a Cheshire grin on his face. It's forced, one that looks a little threatening. 

She goes to say something that teeters on the tip of her tongue, when she feels a hand grasp her arm and pull her back. "Can I speak with you for a second?" Old Thomas whispers. 

She follows him to the back, ignoring the way the boy shifts behind the counter, and trying to ignore the way the little girl looks up at him. It settles wrong on her stomach, and it makes her shake her head as she disappears into the back office.

Thomas's face is red, his white mustache flared up on the ends like it's capable of squirming right off of his face. He eye's her with the tilt of his head, and seemingly looks over his glasses to confirm her fears.

It's not a scam, nor a fake, nor some weird illusion. That, back in the store- at the counter, was definitely not the figment of her imagination.

"We are not selling that to that pedophile!" He growls, voice hoarse with emotion. "I- I think I may even call the police, see about what they think of this whole nonsense. Wanting to buy the most expensive thing. For what? That is a wedding ring Marge! A damn WEDDING RING!"

"And he is a customer." She quips, not believing what she is about to do. Her mind thinks back to seeing the little boy in the newspaper with bruises all over his face, of the times she'd seen Leia from across the grocery store, in town. "I have no right to judge what is going on between those two, just as you have no right to interfere with their business. Now, the man brought in the right about of money- in change to buy whatever he so desires."

I hope I am doing this for the right reasons. I hope he's not like this father. 

"I cant believe you." He snarls, eyes whiting. She snarls back, huffing up.

"I own this business, now, dont forget that Thomas."

She finds her way back to the front, heart hammering quickly in her throat as she looks at the duo. The little girl, obviously unaware of anything other than the prized gem within the glass casing, looks up at the man with a small smile that disappears as soon as she believes anyone else is looking. Oh, but the man, he knows there is trouble. The way he fidgets and eyes her as soon as she steps out from the back, makes her believe that he's already made up every excuse in the book to not get arrested.

So she smiles. 

"Alrighty, Thank you for doing business." She quickly, with known precision, plucks the ring from its place and goes about trying to find the right sizing beads to adjust it to the girl's finger. 

"Now this isnt a permanent fix, only a temporary one." She begins, watching out of the corner of her eye as the man calms down a little. "but it is one to hold up until you grow a little more." She tells the girl, whose eyes are large with childlike glee.

She hands the ring to the man (because in the back of her mind, she knows that he would like to give the ring to the girl) and smiles, fixing up the right amount of change to hand back when he mumbles something about keeping it as a tip. Although she knows it's more than that, a thank you, in a way.

And Margaret Alberny allows this strange oddity, because she understands. Love comes in all different shapes and sizes.

She watches the brute of a man take the little girl's hand in his own, and place the ring on the girl's small finger. (Marge had adjusted the ring to the smallest it could go without physically altering it.)

"Now, this will get you by- right?" He mumbles, and the girl's head bounces a happy yes.

But its more than that, she can tell. Just by looking at the two. 

It's like looking at two halves of the same whole. 

Chapter Text

 Nothing is okay today.

It lingers in the back of his throat like the beginnings of a cold, slowly sneaking its way down his spine in angry tendrils. 

The room becomes oppressive, a hellish cage, as he lets the bed take him in. In times like this, he only wishes it could come alive and eat him whole. 

Breathing becomes too much as everything hums and fizzes. He burns but he remains empty. It's vile and compulsive.

The sensation overwhelms him, pulls him under its weight, and there is nothing he can do but feel it. Ben regrets the years of never getting help from a professional, of never finding out what it is...in these moments that is silently killing him. 

He just knows it's not normal to feel this much pain, this ache that eats at him, it begs him to do disastrous things; mostly to himself. It is just hard to explain the feeling, and he knows if he were to ever tell anyone they would think he is crazy. They would take him away and lock him up, and he couldn't protect anymore. 

He blinks within the dull dampness of the early morning sunshine that streams in through the cracked window within his room. There were things he was supposed to do today, but his mind is too fuzzy to even concentrate on what exactly it was supposed to be. Nothing, he is nothing. 

You were a mistake, a fucking mistake. The voice bites, churning up from the depths of his mind, invasively irradicating any and every other thought. It's more audible this morning, sizzling up from the recess of the background. 

His hand encloses on the pillow and he grips it as he rolls over onto his stomach and buries his face within the soft fabric. 

"Im fine." He mutters, his free hand comes up to absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair around his finger. "im fine, im fine."

He lies there unmoving, feeling small beads of sweat trickle at the back of his nape, and tries to concentrate on the steady hum of the nearby fan. If he stays present, it keeps everything at a simmer, or that is what he tries to tell himself. 

A sharp shrill ring calls throughout the house, the house phone, but he remains still. Knowing if he moves, he will crumble, and he cannot crumble right now. 

The house phone rings a few more times, and the answering machine intones.

"Hey this is Joe, you were supposed to work this mornin' boy. I...I hope you're okay. Give me a call when you can, you know I worry about you." The voice echoes, but it doesn't register the correct way within his skull.

You were supposed to work this mornin' boy. He hears, feeling it choke him, claw at him. His mind latches onto it, and the thoughts skitter darkly. Nonsensical. 

"You were supposed to go to school this mornin' boy." Han quips, eyeing him darkly from the doorway to his room. "You sick or somethin'?" His father's hand grips the knob to the door, and the memory muddies. Ben feels the sharp stab of anxiousness kickstart within his chest. He feels horrible, scratchy throat, a pounding headache behind his eyes. His mother checked his temperature and said he was running a fever, but the way his father's jaw tightens makes him second guess it all. He is lying, underneath it all. He has to be, Ben could never get sick. 

He manages a nod and feels himself sink lower into the covers of the bed. 

The front door slaps shut, and he breathes in shakily as he clutches at the pillow. Reality pulses in waves as his muscles ache in his chest. 

His right ear pops and rings loudly as a wave of sheer hopelessness engulfs him. "You're such a fucking waste of time, y'know that? The moment I saw your ugly ass pop outcha momma I knew...I just knew." The man who is supposed to be a father mumbles. "Y'know she never wanted you?" His father's voice echoes and all Ben can feel is pain. The deep well of loneliness sucks him in. "Your mother never asked for this."

The hallway floorboards creak, and normally he would have the gun loaded and ready, but he doesnt move to get it. Instead all he can think about is the way dad's eyes harden, always turning steel, always burning into him.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He moans into the pillow, its soft and breathy. It comes from the back of his throat and burns its way out. He just wants to forget.

Forget his past.

He wishes he could burn it, maim it. 

"Ben?" Someone whispers, and the back of his skull tingles. "What can I do?" She is beside him now, small hands cool against the skin of his back.

"You shouldn't be here right now." He grumbles, barely able to grasp anything other than the loud ringing within his ears. 

"Joe called me, worried." She murmurs, and he feels the side of the bed dip ever so slightly. "Said you didn't come in."

"You know you're supposed to keep away when...when I have my days." He grumbles, it hurts to talk, he longs to hold her hand, but right now the world is unstable. 

She hums, her hand goes to thread through his hair when he feels something within him unfurl. It snaps and fizzles uncontrollably. He grabs her wrist tightly to keep it from touching him, but it's too late. The wave comes, and he breathes through his nose.

There is no sense in fighting it anymore. He tries to mumble forgiveness, but he doesn't know who he is begging anymore. 

Father's knuckles imprint into his skull as his fingers grip what little hair he has on his scalp. He cries, but everything feels like it happens far too quickly. There is nothing but a feeling, the pulsating wreck of his heart as it palpitates furiously. His mind blanks out in such pure terror that it numbs his senses. He doesn't fight, there is no fighting whenever it comes to dad. The hallway is dark and smells like mold, he sees his mother's eyes with deep sadness. She stands there, hands covering her mouth, and for a moment he wonders if she heard everything; he decides that it never really mattered anyway. She would never save him. There was no such thing as safety.

Life would always be horrible. He deserved this. Dad was this way because of him, because its his fault. 

He thrashes in the bed, the build-up of the pain starts deep within his chest and crawls its way out in the form of a scream. His head throbs, and he knows there is no way to comfort her when he cannot even control himself. 

"Im sorry." He moans painfully, the taste of blood evident that he bit tongue. "Im so sorry Rey." He curls up into himself, his large body kicking off the covers as he uses one of the pillows to bite into. If he doesn't have something to bite into, he will do bad things and he doesn't want her to see him like this. His knuckles burn at the way he holds the pillow, and the invasive wreck of his brain makes him want to feel the pain of his knuckles against his skull. 

He doesn't want to teach her that it is okay to hurt yourself, he tries to remind himself. 

He feels her hand on his back again and flinches, his face hot with sweat and tears. He prays that he hasn't hurt her. Her hand disappears, and she is leaving. 

She is leaving because there is no use. He is too broken, too fucking shattered. 

His tongue throbs, he unclenches his teeth and spots blood through the haziness of his eyes. Of course, he would ruin the fucking pillow. The vermillion spots the white pillowcase as he huffs into it, snot and strings of saliva wet against his face. 

Another wave wracks through him, and he just wants to die. If he could just die then the pain wouldn't exist, and he wouldn't be such a mistake.

A cold wet cloth jolts him back for a moment as he feels tiny hands caress the back of his neck, trailing slowly down his back and between his shoulder blades. 

His face turns sideways as he tries to find her through the red.

"What happened?" She whispers it's so soft and delicate, a light push for him to talk about it if he wants to. He doesn't want to, but he closes his eyes and focuses on the cool texture of the rag against his skin.

"I've never told anyone before..." He grumbles back, his chest hurting so bad that it feels like an oncoming heart attack but it's the anxiety. "it was in the newspaper though."

He feels her still and uses the opportunity to roll onto his back. 

Her eyes are wet and glassy, face pale and cheekbones more prominent than the usual, she looks a lot older all of a sudden and his eyebrows furrow.

Wasn't it just yesterday that he met this little girl on the side of the road? The little angel born of moonlight.

His throat becomes dry, and he grits his teeth. She wont talk to him about this, it's up to him whether or not to tell her, but she deserves to know.

A small hand worms it's way into his and squeezes. 

"Y'know that sheriff down at the station? Finn?" He questions and huffs out a laugh. How strange it is to talk about the past, about the dark things that sliver out of the cracks. About the things that haunt. "His dad found me hanging by my wrists from an old oak tree, my da-Han was whipping me with a belt...'cause I missed the bus for school."

He doesnt look at her, doesnt want to see pity, but the way she holds his hand helps. 

"I wanted him to kill me." He seethed, feeling the compulsion, the self-loathing surface. How many years had it been that he suffered from this feeling? "I had thought if he would kill me, that it would finally make sense. It would finally make him happy, that if I had never been born I wouldn't have ruined so much."

He could see himself as a kid, long face with dark hollowed-out eyes staring back at himself in a mirror, hair choppy and uneven- patches of it missing. Watching himself practice how to not exist, of silently screaming, of feeling his teeth against his skin. 

"Rey...I wanted to die before I was even five years old. I thought that if this was how dark the world could be then why could I ever exist? How could I ever make it being so weak...so fucking sensitive?" He opens his eyes and glares at the ceiling, the world turns and twists, and bares his teeth. "So I became a monster."

Her fingers tighten around his hand, but she stays silent.

"When they untied me I knew that, that little boy died. Ben was gone. And as soon as I hit the dirt, the rope wasn't even off of my wrists when I was...was on him. My father had just been handcuffed." He seethes. "He was about to be led to the car, when I wrapped that fucking rope around his throat, and I jumped onto him. Rey- I tried to kill him. After being beaten for so long, this whole new feeling emerged, and they had to drag me off of him."

His free hand comes up to wipe his face before he balls it into a fist and taps it onto his forehead, he finally looks at her and smiles. The smile is nothing short of cruel.

"And you know what he did? He laughed. He was so happy, I had never seen my...that bastard show any emotion towards me. He kept saying he had finally did it, that he was proud, that he loved me." A low moan rumbles out of his throat. "He killed that kid and-"

"Ben." Rey murmurs, her thumb rubbing circles onto the back of his hand. "Ben never died...he just had to go for a while."

He snorts, the simmering of his past flickering in images and feels.

She cocks her head, long brown hair spilling over her shoulders. "Kylo was always there to help." She murmurs in that breathy way of hers, "he had to protect Ben."

"Then why do I feel like such a monster Rey?!" He growls, snatching his hand away, and shoots up into a sitting position. His hair is soaked with sweat and it clings annoyingly to his face. "Do you even want to know how many people I have killed? Hurt?" He grabs her arm and drags her to him, trying to be gentle but wants to scare her. She needs to know that life is hard, that people are cruel, that he is cruel. 

She ends up on her back, her face hardening into a stone glare, as he places himself over her to keep her down. He is so much bigger that it is almost too easy.

"You wont hurt me." She states, her jaw locked and her eyebrows furrowed. 

"I could, it wouldn't take much." He snarls, the feeling in his chest purring, somewhere in the back of his mind something nags at him. He shouldn't be doing this, he should be gentle, should be showing her that he is there and he is her protector. But he hates himself, and apart of him wants to ruin everything to prove a point. 

"It's always Ben this, Ben that. But you never call me by my actual name."

Something shines in his eyes that she has never seen.

Truthfully she had never truly seen him like this; brutal and self-loathing. The hatred radiates, it prickles her skin, just as the blackness of his eyes shine with wickedness.

"Your name is Ben." She says and doesnt flinch as his hand encloses around her throat and his forehead bumps against hers. He wont hurt her, he is just trying to scare her.

"I told you he died Rey." She watches as his eyes flutter to a close and feels how his fingers tighten around her throat.  

"Kylo." She hisses, fingernails going to dig into his forearms to remind him that he does have his hand around her throat. "I dont care what your name is, or what your past is."

Something rumbles through him before he huffs out a laugh, she can feel the warm air puff across her face, his breath smells like copper. "You should care, you silly fucking girl. Are you so blind to who you continue to surround yourself with? You dont even know the things I could do." 

She feels it then, the hardness pressing into her stomach, the way he breathes against her face and braces himself against her. Her body reacts almost instantly and it scares her.

He seems to enjoy her surprise because he laughs to himself. His free hand slowly creeps it's way up her stomach, all the while dragging her white tank top up, it settles against her rib-cage. The heat from his skin radiates into her and burns her.

"Ben." She whispers, closing her eyes. "Im sorry."

"Sorry for what?" He whispers his hand letting go of her throat almost instantly, almost as if he just realized what he was doing.

"Everything you had to go through. The pain, the abuse. It was never your fault." She opens her eyes to look at his face.

His pupils are blown wide, hair clinging around his face, the scar looks gruesome against the pale shine of his face. He shutters for a moment before he sits back on his heels and puts his face into his hands. 

"I deserved it Rey. I was too weak, too fucking malnorished an-"

"And it wasn't your fault Ben." She quips, following him by sitting up and pressing her hands against his face. "You were a child, you weren't supposed to be anything but yourself."

"I havent been myself in a long time..." He withdraws, legs pulling up to his chest as he rests back against the headrest of the bed. She does not push it any further but stays close enough as she watches him curl up on himself, his eyes looking off into the distance. 

"Well, whenever you are ready...I am here." She smiles, knowing that it fixes nothing, but it makes a difference. He nods playing with a strand of hair by twirling it around his index finger. 

"Im going to go make lunch." She murmurs and gets up to give him space. 

He doesnt think she hears it, but as soon as she leaves the room and rounds the corner she hears the softest "I love you" and smiles.