A/N: I know this is probably not what people want to be reading, but I've had fun writing it. Shouldn't be more than eight chapters, but that could obviously change.

Enjoy!

Chapter One: To Ben Solo's House We Go

"Don't look at me like that," Rose tutted—she was the only person Rey knew who actually tutted like an old woman—speedily running around the small room, stuffing rubbish and dirty clothes and thick, expensive textbooks into the same large bin bag. "It's just one night!"

Rey stared, bug-eyed, at her roommate. "One night!" she hissed, watching Rose try to fit an old pizza box in the black bag. She was failing quite miserably. Giving up, the tan-skinned girl shoved it under her bed. "This is the third time this month! The seventh time this entire semester."

Rose stood up and brushed crumbs off her nice dress, beneath which Rey just knew was a skimpy, lacy bodysuit. "You never minded any of those other times."

"Maybe," Rey admitted, "but those nights were not the nights before an exam. And also, those nights, I could just crash with Maz, but she's out of town this whole week. So now I'm homeless."

Rose snorted. "For one night."

"That's not a viable defence. You're still kicking me out on my ass so you can sleep with your boyfriend," Rey complained. "Why can't you just . . . do it at his place?"

"He's cat sitting," Rose said, satisfied with her rushed cleanup.

Rey was not. Their flat in Broome was better than their first year flat at Brittany (they had a kitchen!), but somehow with Rose's inability to pick up after herself, it felt just as small. Her side of the dorm was always spotless, and in Rose's desperation to tidy her own side, she had managed to spread some of the filth to Rey's. But that was the least of the English girl's concerns at the present moment. Where to sleep for the night was surely number one on her list.

Slumping backwards on her white duvet, Rey closed her eyes and quickly rummaged her brain for options. The library could work. She had accidentally fallen asleep there once before and it was actually quite comfortable. She would just have to be mindful of the night librarian. Hide somewhere until the old, frankly scary woman left for the night.

Ugh. Stupid Rose and her stupid cat allergies.

"You could," Rose said, standing at the foot of Rey's bed; Rey cracked her eyes, "ask You-Know-Who."

Rey frowned. She grimaced. "No. No way in hell am I asking that sorry excuse for a human being."

"But he's the only other person you know at this entire school! He's your last hope."

Sitting up, Rey felt dormant anger awakening inside of her. "That Dark Lord wannabe isn't my last anything."

"When are you going to forgive him?" Rose asked, sounding exhausted by the whole situation.

"Never." Rey's answer was definitive, as it always was.

"You know, I really don't think he's as bad as you give him credit. He might put up this macho, mean façade, but in reality, I think he's a huge softy."

Rose had just recently switched majors to the psychology program. She was having a blast telling Rey how people were really feeling and what they actually wanted to say. Half the time—more than half the time, but she wouldn't tell Rose that—she thought Rose was spouting bullshit.

Especially now.

Because he was not a big softy. He was not a villain with a heart of gold, hard on the outside and gooey on the inside. He was pure evil. There was a reason she never used his name.

"I won't do it," Rey said. "I just won't."

Rose threw her hands up in aggravation. "Well, then it looks like you're sleeping on the streets."

Getting to her feet, Rey mocked her roommates movements. "It looks that way, doesn't it!"

A gentle knock on the door jolted the bickering friends.

Rose, taking on a panicked expression, went to the full-length mirror hanging by her flowery bed and inspected herself.

Another knock.

"Just a moment," Rose called, making sure her bob was sleek.

Rey rolled her eyes. She and Finn had been together for over a year and Rose still felt compelled to put on a mask of perfection for the criminology major.

"Babe, let me in. You can have one hair out of place. I won't mind." Finn's voice came through the door, and though she couldn't see him, Rey knew he was smiling. She could hear it.

"I'll get the door," Rey said, stepping over a jagged piece of plastic Rose had neglected to clear away.

Finn's smiling face greeted her when she opened the door. "Rey!" he said happily—he was always so . . . happy; it unnerved Rey—entering the room as Rey swept her hand out. He went over to Rose and kissed her cheek. "So, what movie are we watching?"

Rey stood there, frozen, watching Rose plant a wet-sounding kiss on Finn's mouth.

People in love were disgusting.

"Well, I was thinking I could finally get you to watch Jaws."

Finn pulled away. "No, no. You know how terrified I am of sharks."

"You've never seen Jaws?" Rey asked.

Both Finn and Rose turned to her, blinking slowly as if they'd forgotten she was there. Which was ridiculous, because the room was so cramped, and she was so there.

"I hate sharks," Finn explained.

"He's such a fake shark, though. And he's not in the film very much," Rey said.

Beside Finn, Rose coughed and smiled sweetly at Rey. "Rey, isn't it time you left?"

"Still not sure where you expect me to go."

"Ben," Rose said firmly. "He's your last hope."

She kept saying that. Clearly, she didn't understand the meaning of the word hope.

Ben Solo was her last nothing. Even if he was the last human being on this earth besides herself, Rey would still refuse to knock on his dorm room door. And that was a fitting analogy, because, for all intents and purposes, he was the last human being on this earth. And she still was refusing to knock on his dorm room door.

But Rose was getting sick of hearing her say that. The sex-crazed girl flashed an apologetic smile at her boyfriend and grabbed one of Rey's tote bags from their storage space on the wall by their door. Ignoring Rey's questions, Rose started filling the bag decorated with dozens of War and Peace quotes with neatly folded clothes from Rey's chest of drawers, toiletries, and two textbooks. She straightened and roughly handed the bag to a flabbergasted Rey, who took the bag just so it wouldn't fall to the floor.

Rose stood in front of her, scowling. "Go to him."

Rey scowled right back. "I won't. It's a twenty minute walk to Alumni Hall, and I don't feel like getting any exercise tonight."

"Then take the bus!"

"I hate taking the bus."

"Is this Ben Solo we're talking about?"

Both girls whipped their heads in Finn's direction.

"Yes," Rose affirmed as Rey said, "No."

"He's alright," said Finn, taking Rose's side as usual. He focused on Rey. "What's your problem with him?"

"My problem"—

—"Her problem with him," interrupted Rose, "is nonexistent. She's actually madly in love with him and just uses this 'hatred' as a cover for her true feelings."

"Bugger off," Rey said, disgusted. She threw the tote on her bed and bunched her fists. "That's not true at all."

Finn's eyes rotated between the two girls. He looked conflicted. "So . . . what is the truth?"

Rey, tossing a threatening glance at Rose, happily told him.

It all started one night during the first month of freshman year. Rey, already stressed and desperate for her professors to admire her work ethic, was staying late at the library on a chilly Thursday night. Her first big research paper for her Early Middle Ages class was due in three weeks and she had everything already planned in her mind. She just needed some books to guide her along.

There she was at the famed Elmer Holmes Bobst Library, still in awe of the fact that she managed to get into NYU on a full scholarship, something for which she had worked tirelessly throughout her teenage years, standing at a bookshelf and looking up. Rey was short. Five foot and three inches short. Sure, she had met people who were shorter than her, but her height—or lack thereof—was something of a sore spot for the history major. She did not want to ask anyone to help her get the book she needed that just so happened to be on the shelf she couldn't quite reach.

After a minute of squealing in desperation as she stood on her cramping tiptoes, glancing out the corner of her eye to make sure nobody was silently judging her or laughing at her, Rey sighed and slumped down to the balls of her feet. She stepped back only to jump forward again when she rammed into a solid figure. Turning, she came face to face with a tremendously large chest. Sliding her gaze upwards, she eventually reached the head attached to the body. He stood at least a foot taller than her, if not more. His raven-coloured hair came down in wet-looking waves over his hard, freckled face. He looked older—not by much, but he definitely wasn't the average university student's age. There were lines around his faded brown eyes. Around his wide mouth.

She stared at him, confused as to how someone so big had managed to sneak behind her.

"Need help?" he asked, flicking his eyes above her head.

"Oh," she said. His deep voice startled her. She shook her head. Refusing help, Rose had been saying for a couple of weeks now, would one day get her killed. "No. But thank you."

"Are you sure?" he said, a laugh hiding behind his solemn appearance. "You look like you need help."

"I'm sure. I'm absolutely capable of getting the book I need."

"Are you going to climb the shelf?"

"If I have to."

He wasn't concealing the laugh anymore. His thick lips pulled apart in a smile. A small chortle—she hated that word, but it was a chortle—fell out. "Am I allowed to help you when the shelf inevitably falls on top of you?"

And dammit—that line made her smile. She relented, allowing him to get the book on early civilisations. He didn't even have to extend his arm past his shoulder.

"Ben," he said as he handed her the heavy book.

Taking the offering, she then grasped his hand in a firm shake. His skin was warm. "Rey," she responded, letting go.

"Where's that accent from?" he asked.

"Same place as me. London."

Standing between bookshelves as the hour got later and later, they continued on like that. For the majority of it, she hadn't considered it flirting. They were just getting to know each other. She found out he was from California and wanted to open up a recording studio in the city when he graduated with his degree in Music Business. And he was older. Twenty-four, to be exact. According to him, college had never been important. He was happy working at a record store in Los Angeles until it closed. By that time, the prospect of having to look for a new job without a degree had become daunting, and he finally gave in and applied for universities all over the country. NYU accepted him first, and he didn't think twice before leaving California.

She told him all about her life growing up in London, skipping over the orphan bit as she always did with strangers, and working extra hard to be eligible for scholarships that would take her across the pond. She explained her affinity for history and how she couldn't wait until she was on the other side of the lecture halls, writing on the boards and calling out students for falling asleep at her 8:00 am class.

It became clear to Rey that it had all been flirting when he looked down at the black leather banded watch around his thick wrist and said it's been been wonderful talking to you, Rey, would you like to meet at Angelika for dinner and a movie Friday night?

Her life in London had given her one boyfriend and he had treated her like garbage. Cheating, emotional manipulation, lies. Upon registering Ben's proposal, Rey's first instinct was to deny his request. But then she looked into his eyes as they shifted colour between brown and mossy green and she couldn't stop herself from saying yes.

Rose had been over the moon with excitement for Rey. The two freshman spent a long while finding the proper outfit (one could never go wrong with high-waisted jeans and a tucked-in blouse), the right makeup (nothing too major—mascara, tinted moisturiser, and a swipe of pink gloss), and what to do if it turned out the sweet guy from the library was actually a rapist slash murderer (mace and a rape whistle at the ready).

Friday night rolled around and Rey, happy after having received a 100% on one of her first exams, made her way to the theatre by herself as the sun started to set over the Manhattan skyline. The Angelika lounge was fancy and atmospheric. Not many other people were there. She sat at a table near the bar, anxiously checking her phone for the time. Ben said he would meet her at 6:00.

By 6:20, Rey was chewing her lip and bouncing her leg in a mixture of agitation and worry. Had he stood her up? Had he overslept? Forgotten? Was he dead?

By 6:45, she was hungry and ordered her food despite no sign of Ben.

By 7:00, her food had arrived, but Ben had not. Their film started in just over thirty minutes. As she ate her Greek salad sans the feta cheese and sipped her water, she decided he wasn't going to come.

Angry and upset at having been made a fool of by another man, Rey finished her food. She was ready to go home, wipe her makeup off, and head to the gym nearby her dorm to work off some of the negative emotions swimming around her body. She had just called out to the waiter for the check when she spotted him coming up the stairs dressed in a black jean jacket, white t-shirt, and dark jeans. He was practically fuming as he made his way to her. He kept forcing his fingers through his wild hair. The closer he got, the more she expected to see steam running from his ears.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, pulling the chair opposite her out. The grating sound of metal on wood nudged her gag reflex and she swallowed the urge to retch. Ben folded his hands together on the table. His knuckles were ghost white. "I had some family thing come up."

Rey had not known how to respond. Thankfully, the waiter came by with her check in the nick of time, rescuing her from having to come up with something on the spot.

"Let me get that," Ben said, reaching for the black book.

Rey moved it away from him. "No. I've got it," she insisted harshly. He put his hands up in defeat.

He was so different from the man in the library. Closed off and rigid, not playful and . . . and nice.

She didn't want to see the film anymore. Not with him, at least.

"Thank you," she said to the waiter as he took away her card.

Ben and Rey sat in silence, looking at each other then quickly looking away. She had not been on many dates in her nineteen years, but she was marking this one down as her worst.

It felt like ages before the waiter returned. Rey scribbled down a tip, calculated the total, and had her card back in her wallet and the black book standing in less than thirty seconds.

"You're upset," he said.

The gall.

Rey grabbed her bag and huffed out a laugh. "You're more than an hour late."

"I said I was sorry," he defended pointlessly.

The damage had been done. Rey was annoyed and hurt that her first date after her and her ex broke up had been ruined. Why did she say yes to this perfect stranger's proposal? If she had been smart, listened to her head when it told her to stay away from boys at least for the first semester, she would not be in this situation. She would be in her room with Rose studying and writing her paper.

She looked Ben over, trying to remember what it was about that night at the library that pushed down all of her sturdily built walls. Whatever it was—his eyes, his laugh, his velvety smooth voice—had disappeared. In its place was the frowning child in front of her.

"I gave you my number," Rey said, pausing for a moment as the waiter took away the black book. "You could have told me you weren't going to make it on time."

That frown deepened. "It was a family thing."

"Yeah, you said that already. But it really doesn't take much to send a quick message."

"I didn't have to show up at all, you know. I could've just stayed at my dorm and skived off the date completely," he gritted.

Rey was really starting to not like Ben. She gripped her bag tight and abruptly stood, startling her seemingly reluctant companion.

"Well, I really wish you had," she spat, lifting her coat off the back of her chair and sliding it over her fancy pale blue shirt. "Goodbye, Ben. I hope we never see each other again."

"Where are you going?" he called after her as she started to walk away.

Rey vaguely knew the other patrons at the restaurant were staring at them, but she had an angry film over her brain. She didn't care her and Ben were being watched. "I'm leaving," she said without turning around.

"We still have the movie. I bought tickets!"

She was halfway down the staircase by that point. She was not going back up. "Then find some other poor girl to go in with you!"

He might have said something else after that, but she had closed off her ears and stormed out of the theatre, happy for the fifteen minute walk home that would surely help soothe her.

Rose had been shocked to see her come home so early. Despite Rey saying she didn't want to talk about it, her flatmate had managed to squeeze all the details out of her within the first ten minutes of her returning to the dorm. She had tried telling Rey to message Ben, tried for weeks after the failed date, but Rey stubbornly refused.

And from that evening on, she did her very best to avoid Ben. They would run into each other every now and again, especially at the library, but she managed to shake off the urge to punch him in his face (if only because if she really thought about it, her punching him in the face would only result in her hand breaking) and move on.

A small sliver of her heart thought perhaps she was being too harsh. Too hard on him. It had been almost a year and a half since he halfway stood her up. Maybe what happened wasn't all that serious. But the idea of going up to him and apologising, then the idea of having to forgive him for being such an ass . . . it solidified her original takeaway from the night: Ben Solo sucked, and she was happy to never speak to him again.

And Rose was trying to ruin everything. She always was when it came to Ben. Her flatmate one-thousand percent felt she had been unnecessarily cruel that night and continually attempted to coerce Rey into marching to his dorm to say sorry. Then, when Rey refused, she would announce that Rey was far too protective of her pride and was probably going to die alone.

Finished with her story, Rey, flushed with residual anger from the fateful evening, looked between Rose and Finn. "That's the truth," she said.

"Is that it?" Finn asked.

"Is what it?"

"Oh, that's it," Rose said, rolling her eyes towards her boyfriend. "That's the whole story. That is why she hates Ben Solo's guts, and it's why she is going to be sleeping on the streets tonight."

Of course Finn would take Rose's stance on the horrible situation. For months, ever since it happened, Rose had been saying the same thing: forgive him, Rey. It's not that bad. And judging by the skeptical look on Finn's face, he would agree with his girlfriend and tell her to suck it up. To forgive.

"You're going to him," Rose said, reaching for the tote and shoving it in Rey's arms.

Rey looked pleadingly at her friend. "Please don't make me. Can't I just sleep outside the room?"

"You know as well as I that you can't," Rose said. "Go to him."

That was how Rey Smith found herself outside of her dorm room, a small bag in hand filled with the essentials. She peered around the empty hall. Various different noises—heavy music, someone screaming on a television, someone screaming not on a television—came from various different rooms and she wondered helplessly if anyone in the building would be kind enough to the grant the English orphan girl a bed for the night. Or a floor.

They wouldn't. She had isolated herself completely since she arrived. It was a miracle she and Rose got along. An even bigger miracle she met Maz. Besides, she wasn't actually brave enough to knock on their doors.

Sucking in a deep, calming breath that in reality did nothing except make her dizzy, Rey walked slowly towards the elevator, waiting to see if Rose would have a change of heart and open the dorm to her again. But she heard the famous John Williams' score from beneath the door and knew her fate had been sealed.

To Ben Solo's it was.

Alumni Hall was special. It was a building dedicated to lonely sods. Single rooms only. Sure, they had to share a suite with a couple of other lonely sods, but Rey imagined all of them scurrying to their private room whenever the threat of a social interaction met them in the kitchen. She may not have many friends, but at least she wasn't as isolated as the people at Alumni. As much as Rose drove her up the wall sometimes, she would go mad in a room by herself. Even when the pair weren't speaking, it was calming to know if she voiced an opinion, someone would talk back.

Assuring the Resource Centre lady that her host would be down soon to check her in, Rey tucked her NYU ID back into her purse and headed for the elevator. The creaky, stuttering transportation device took her up to the tenth floor. Its doors opened with a squeak that gradually turned into a groan. She clutched her tote bag close and stepped out, grateful the elevator had managed to make it to the tenth floor. It sounded as though it was on its last wire.

Another special thing about Alumni Hall was its lack of numbers on the doors to the suites. As she trekked down the hall, she kept her eyes peeled for the name Judy Bloom, the urge to laugh almost too much. Ben Solo living in a dorm named for the author who helped so many young girls blossom into women. It was too rich. She kept hearing in her head the words we must, we must, we must increase our bust. Did the asshole know who she was, Rey wondered.

After a few minutes of mindless wandering around, Rey found the suite. A tall ginger opened the door, his eyes bugging out of his head as he took her in.

"Can I help you?" he said. He was very English. Too English. The posh kind of English that belonged to the kids who would laugh at Rey at primary school for being parentless. "Are you lost?"

Rey's eyebrows tilted down. The people in this building were clearly in more want for company than she had originally thought. "I'm here to see Ben. Is he in?" She wanted him to say no, to give her an out, but she had walked all the way here.

"What do you want with Ben? I've never seen you here before." The red-headed man looked her over with severe mistrust. "What's your name?"

"Rey," she answered, slightly exacerbated. "Look. I'm homeless for the night. If you could be so kind as to just let me in, I promise I'm not a murderer or anything. I just want somewhere to sleep."

"Where in England are you from?"

"Will that effect whether or not you let me in?"

"Perhaps."

Rey couldn't help it. She rolled her eyes. "Westminster," she said, watching as the stranger's eyes before her blossomed in curiosity. If people knew London, they oftentimes thought she was some wealthy aristocrat when she told them where she grew up. What would this man think of her when she told him how lovely the orphanages were in that part of the great city.

"Kensington," he said as a response. He splayed his fingers on his chest and gave her a nod. "You can come in." Stepping away from the door, he practically bowed and swept out his arm in invitation.

Re-shouldering her bag, Rey smiled awkwardly at Ben's roommate and entered the suite. Directly in front of her was the oven, on top of which was the stove. To the left and right were doors which she assumed led to the single bedrooms. There weren't any personal touches to the suite that Rey could see. The only sort of decoration present was the strategic placement of a magnetic notepad high up on the ivory-coloured fridge. There was a note scribbled on the lined paper: almost out of milk; Hux, stop drinking it, you know I know you're lactose intolerant.

Hux. It must be a last name. Rey turned her head, lifting her lips in an awkward, uncomfortable smile.

"Um, which room is his?" she asked, noticing now a third door directly to her left. Bathroom, she assumed.

"That one," Hux said. He indicated to the right. "You'll have to knock, I'm afraid. He listens to music when he studies and he's got an exam in the morning."

Rey again offered that stiff smile—why was he watching her—and took a couple of steps to the right. She had to force her hand up. Making a fist, she swallowed whatever was left of her pride after Rose kicked her out and banged hard on the door.

The doorknob rattled, which startled Rey, and then turned. She heard a pop as a lock broke loose. The door swung open. There, before she was ready, was Ben Solo, looming over her like the devil he was.

Blinking up at him, searching for anything to say, Rey's eyes swerved downward and clashed violently with Ben's bare chest. She balked, backing away as if she had just witnessed something horrific. She closed her eyes.

"Could you, um, could you put something on?" she said, feeling herself warm out of embarrassment. Both for seeing Ben Solo without a shirt and for acting like a child who had just walked in on a couple kissing when faced with such an obstacle.

She cracked her lids. Ben's eyes were on hers. He burned right through her with that evil glare of his, but there was a mischievous glimmer moving as well.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice deep and unrelenting. Making no move to find a t-shirt, the tree-like creature kept one hand on the doorknob and the other tucked into the pocket of his grey NYU sweatpants. She never would have taken him as one to show school spirit.

Rey's eyes involuntarily swept up and down his torso as she searched for an answer that didn't sound as pathetic as my roommate gets way more sex than me and she's kicked me out to have some of that said sex.

God, he was fit. Properly fit, too.

Shaking her head to clear away the disgustingness parading around inside—of all the things she could think, why on earth did she think that—she found his eyes again. They were darkened by the dim lighting in the suite. It made him all the more eerie to look at. She had not been this close to him since that night at the library. His scent was the same. A spicy, warm scent that almost burned her nostrils.

"My roommate," she said without having thought of a follow-up. She needed to say something, though. Her head was starting to fill with the weirdest stuff. "She's kicked me out."

"And you decided to come here?"

This was the part she was not looking forward to. Well, she wasn't looking forward to any of this, but the next words were going to be physically painful to say in front of him. They were an admission. A sad admission that she had no friends.

"I . . . had nowhere else to go." She turned her eyes down and watched her toes wriggle against the tough fabric of her trainers. "Will you let me stay?" she asked, noticing Ben was not wearing any shoes. His feet were massive. The size of her forearm, surely.

And Rey knew what people said about men with big feet.

Clearing her throat, she tore her eyes away from the ground. Ben was surveying her as if she were some formaldehyde-soaked frog spliced open in front of him on a lab table.

He was going to say no. She could feel it. Just to spite her, he was going to throw her on the streets.

"Okay," he said.

What?

"What?" The word came out violently. A tornado of air and syllables.

Above her, Ben Solo cracked an almost-smile. He was king of those. He shot them in her direction sometimes when she caught his eye at the library. It was like he was taunting her.

Her eyebrows collapsed in a heap for one moment before she relaxed them, remembering she would probably have to act just a tad kinder to him now that he had, for some unknown and probably bad reason, decided to grant her respite.

"You alright?" he asked letting go of the doorknob and crossing his arms over his great, broad chest. "You don't look too good."

"I'm fine. Just shocked is all."

"Shocked? Because I'm not being an asshole and forcing you to spend a night with New York's finest homeless folk?"

Rey's tongue moved against the backs of her teeth. She sucked in a steadying breath and released it slowly. "Something like that."

"Well, when you're done realising I'm actually not the devil incarnate, you can come inside the room," he said, stepping aside. He looked past Rey for a second and sighed angrily. "Hux, stop being such a voyeuristic creep."

Curious, Rey glanced over her shoulder to find the tall, gangly ginger watching them. He was turning red after having been caught and didn't say anything as he abandoned his post and headed for his room.

"Does he often like to watch when you've got female company?" she asked.

Ben didn't take the bait. He rolled his big eyes and thrust out his arm in invitation.

Okay then, she thought to herself, this is actually happening. Remain calm and the night will be over before you know it and you can leave and never interact with him again.

She shuffled awkwardly past his large body, not managing to avoid brushing her tote against his bare flesh, and stepped into the room. Rey heard the door click behind her, felt Ben's looming presence at her back, but she remained facing the dorm, still in a considerable amount of shock he was allowing her to spend the night.

In an attempt to swallow down the uncomfortable, itching nerves swimming underneath her skin, Rey moved forward and observed the open room. One word sprung to her mind: minimalist. Make that two words: extreme minimalist.

To the right, a long, pale wood twin bed stretched out, nearly reaching the door. It was covered in a light grey duvet and a white pillow that looked to be about Rey's size in length. The floor was decorated partially by a white carpet that stretched from beneath the bed to the desk at the opposite side of the room. A bookshelf beside the desk, the same washed wood as the bed and desk, was stuffed full of all sorts of books. She recognised the large volume of music history books taking up the top shelf.

The only other object in the room was a chest of drawers. This was a different kind of wood. Deeper in colour, like a mahogany or something. She didn't know enough about wood to make any kind of educated guess. On top of the chest of drawers stood a vintage record player. It was a hideous shade of orange.

A small window was open on the wall directly in front of her. The symphony from the busy New York streets assaulted her ears. A breeze washed over her, moving the strands of hair that had fallen from her bun across her cheeks.

Wait, there was something else in this room. On the wall above the desk, hanging on a nail, was a white poster. Only she knew it wasn't just any ordinary white poster. Before she could tell her feet to stop, Rey walked towards it and stood at the desk. She observed the poster, her mouth parted in wonder.

She never would have guessed.

"You like the Beatles?" she said.

There was a beat of silence before he answered. "Yeah." His voice was directly behind her, and she felt the vibration of the single word send ripples through her skin.

"I love them," she said, reaching up to touch the frame. "Back in England, the only music I listened to was the Beatles."

"The only music? Did you grow up in a Beatles-themed cult?"

Realising what she had said, Rey moved to the side and faced Ben's profile. He didn't know where she came from, and she wasn't about to tell him.

"Well, obviously not the only music," she said, which was a lie—for some reason the orphanage received innumerable donations of Beatles albums. There were a few other things scattered in the collection as well, but she couldn't remember what. "They were just my favourite."

Ben was still looking at the poster. "Yeah, they're my favourite too."

She didn't know why this fact surprised her. He was majoring in music business. Having a favourite band was probably a requirement. And the Beatles—weren't they everyone's favourite?

She hadn't been expecting them to share the band as a favourite, though.

"You can take the bed."

Rey nodded, confused. "The bed. . ."

Ben spun his head to look at her. "You can have the bed, I'll take the floor," he clarified.

"Right, yeah," she said. "Really? I don't mind being on the floor."

"You're taking the bed, I am taking the floor," he said, and there was no room for argument.

Several minutes later, Rey faced her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Not just the bathroom mirror, but Ben Solo's bathroom mirror. She groaned, bending down to wash off her soapy cleanser.

Why was she there? Being in the same room as him, so close in proximity, it was screwing with her mind. He finally put on a shirt, but as he was doing so, Rey found herself unable to tear her untrustworthy eyes from the way his muscles moved as he put on that shirt. It didn't help that the white t-shirt was probably a size too small for him. It cupped his biceps and outlined his pectorals. When he walked, she could see his abs press like an icepack against the fabric.

But he's a jackass. An asshole. A demon parading around in a human skin-suit, she kept reminding herself. And she had to keep on reminding herself.

She was going to strangle Rose when she got home in the morning.

Dabbing her face with a fresh-scented hand towel, Rey straightened her baggy top, careful to make sure her nipples weren't poking out, and tightened the string on her sweatpants. She exited the bathroom and reentered Ben's room. He was at his desk pouring over a textbook. Hux had said he had an exam in the morning. She did too, but she never studied the night before. Anne of Green Gables taught her that doing so would just stress her out.

He had earbuds in, but he quickly removed them when she closed the door. He swivelled in his chair. Ran a hand through his stupidly perfect hair.

"It's nearly ten. I have to be up early for this test. Are you okay to turn the light out now?"

"Sure, yeah," she said, stuffing her folded clothes in her tote.

Rey climbed on the bed and sat there as Ben stood and went over to the light switch. With a flick, the pair were bathed in darkness. She could still hear New York streaming through the cracked window. She could also hear Ben's soft breathing as he settled on the floor. The smog from the city didn't permit any natural light from the moon, but there were street lamps and headlights that managed to creep inside the room. Before too long, Rey had a fair grasp on her night vision. Ben was turned away from her on his side. Settling beneath the covers, Ben's covers, she turned to face the wall.

Someone was crying. Their muffled sobs met her ears and tore her from a dream. She opened her eyes, startled for a moment, unsure of where she was, but then she remembered. Her ears strained to pick up on the sound and she decided it was coming from inside the room. Confused, Rey rolled quietly to her back and stared up at the ceiling. The sounds continued, and a full minute passed until she realised who was making them.

Angling her head to the side, she took in Ben's dark figure. He was still facing the other way. His shoulders shook with the force of his whimpers.

Rey felt her skin grow hot. Concern bubbled within her, but she remained on her back, unmoving, as she listened to Ben Solo cry.

Her eyes stung as she opened them. Reaching beneath the pillow, she pulled out her phone and turned off her blaring alarm. She had time to head back to her dorm and shower before her exam.

Sitting up, she expected to find Ben on the floor still. But he wasn't there. In her grogginess, she half-felt that she had dreamed awakening to his breakdown. But she had stayed awake for far too long afterwards, listening to him, unable to move, for it to have been part of a dream.

The noises he had made sat heavy in Rey's stomach. What had he been crying about? What could possibly affect him in such a way that he cried on the floor knowing there was a chance she would wake up and hear?

She didn't have time to worry about it, though. She had to race home, shower, and head to campus for her exam. Throwing the duvet off, Rey gathered her things and left the suite, crossing her fingers she would never have to spend another night in the company of Ben Solo and his bizarre roommate.