♕Chapter 5♕

In a word: unwell. You were faring unwell since your last conversation with Ren just a day before-if you could call in a conversation. You'd spent Friday night and Saturday afternoon in bed, cuddled up in your blankets, watching Netflix with your laptop on your chest and your headphones in, icing out your roommate Rose.

You didn't mean to push her away. You didn't want to. But you could hardly tell her about what was going on with you. Why you were such a complete wreck. And as much as you wanted to unload on Rose, that would mean Ren's termination.

You had caught feelings for the professor you never should have been sleeping with in the first place, the man who hadn't told you that whatever was going on between you was to remain devoid of feelings because he didn't have to. He said it with the iciness in his gaze when he looked at you. He said it in the way he'd curtly text you when he needed you, and the way he immediately forced you away when he'd had what he wanted.

But then there were the other moments. Like the time when he'd taken you up to his rooftop terrace and watched you gaze at the stars. The moment when he'd actually told you about his parents and his strained, unhappy relationship with them. And then there were the rare and fleeting moments when his touch was gentle and sent electric shock-waves through your skin that were so strong, you could feel the echo of them even as you laid in bed, sadly watching your Netflix days later. These were the moments that had made you think that maybe it wasn't so cut-and-dry. That maybe he didn't know how to connect with someone, but maybe he wanted to. Wanted to try.

You were wrong.

You turned to the wall, tears prickling at your eyes. You didn't know how you could have been so careless. And now, you were paying the price. You had been rejected and hadn't tried to text him. He hadn't texted you either. By the way you'd reacted to him the other evening, it was clear that the two of you just weren't seeing eye-to-eye. It was clear that you and him just didn't work.

Chewing on your lower lip, you minimized the Netflix tab and pulled up the article you'd found the other day. You still hadn't closed out of it. It was 10 years old, written in 2009, but perhaps the more dated it was, the better in terms of actually giving you any understanding into his life. You'd read it a hundred times, but decided to read it again, praying it would give you some kind of insight into him.

What Ever Happened to Problem Child of Leia Organa-Solo and Husband Han?

Leia Organa-Solo- you know her as the philanthropist who created The Resistance, the growing anti-war nonprofit organization. Power couple Leia and Han have allegedly bid their young son, Ben, farewell, a source tells us.

"The Solos have always been diligent in keeping Ben out of the spotlight. They spent as much time with him as they could but things would come up, you know, they'd have to jet off to some war-torn front and the kid would always insist on coming, but when it wasn't safe, they'd have to send him away. He never took that well. He's off on his own now, which is sad. They're good parents. He was a problem-child, if you ask me, always looking for a reason to hate his folks for having their own lives."

The source, as we're told, is a friend to the family and has ties to the organization. As Organa-Solo prepares for her departure for a relief-mission at the end of this month, supporters worry that the dwindling health of her husband will distract her from bringing the aid the country-in-question needs. Updates to follow.

Whoever the source was, he was right about one thing: few pictures of Ben Solo existed on the face of the internet, not that the Organa-Solos were prime paparazzi prey. You found one photo of a young boy squatting on the ground, hunched over some sort of archaeological find in a desert-looking area. He was smiling. His dark hair was waving in the wind and his eye crinkled at the corner. But the picture was taken from the side and he wore a floppy, over-sized fisherman's hat, and a profile shot couldn't convince you if it was him or not.

Still, your heart ached for whoever the boy was. It couldn't have been easy not being able to follow your parents to some of the more dangerous places that their work took them. If it were you, you supposed you would have felt angry, maybe even abandoned. But at the same time, the work that Leia and Han were doing was good and important. It was difficult situation and the fault didn't lie with anyone, and if it left open wounds, then it would have been essential for family to help heal them together.

It seemed that with whoever Ben Solo was, that never happened.

You stared at the picture of the boy, the boy who may or may not have turned out to be Kylo Ren, and you silently wished that he could have just held on a little longer, could have stayed patient and trusted that his parents were gone for a good reason, and that they'd come back for him.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Rose slamming your door open so forcefully it made you jump and slam your laptop shut.

"What the hell?" You asked her.

"You're right. What the hell?" She spat, throwing down her backpack and placing your hands on her hips. "You've been moping in here for 24 hours straight, and you won't talk to me. What's going on?"

You rolled onto your elbow and rubbed at your face. "It's just some guy I caught feelings for. I don't want to talk about it."

Her body softened, and she finally looked at you with something that wasn't annoyance and anger, the last thing you needed from your best friend at the moment, though you understood where she was coming from. When you were upset, you turned into quite the ice-cold bitch. "I figured." She sighed and plopped down on your bed. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? You know you can."

"I know I can, but I genuinely don't want to. It's not you, it's just that I never should have caught feelings in the first place, and instead of talking about it, I think I just need to forget it and move on. Talking about him only gives more power over me."

Suddenly, Rose was smiling from ear to ear. "Well, I'm so glad you said that, because I just ran into Poe."

"I'm not really feeling up for a dirty house party tonight." I told her.

"Good. Neither am I. You know how his family is, like, kind of rich?"

Poe came from some money, though nothing like Ren. That being said, his talent and success in life was mostly earned all on his own. Sure, privilege always helped-there was no doubt about it. But instead of skating by in life, which he could have done, he was pursuing an undergrad degree in aviation studies and working on his flight certification on the side.

"So there's this bar in the nicer part of town. It's this super exclusive, rich-people place that not a ton of students go to. Poe's family has a membership to it, so we figured why not pretend to be fancy people for the night? There's this cool speakeasy underneath it too, which we probably won't go to because that's for boring old people, but still. We could go get fancy drinks and schmooze with the elite. Come on, it'll be fun!" She told you, practically bouncing up and down on the bed.

It took some convincing but within the hour, she had you dressed in a skimpy dress you'd bought from Lulu's for a "special occasion" but had never worn. It was blue, sparkly, short, and low cut. It was certainly upscale-club appropriate. You had pictured your night being the same as last night: lonely and isolating and covered in cheese-ball crumbs. But before you knew it, you were in Poe's car with Finn and Rose, driving to the nightlife strip not far from where Ren lived.

Poe had to show the doorman a pass to get you all in. He ushered you all in with a huge grin, and when you stepped inside, heard the music, and saw all the well-dressed people clinking their martinis and cocktails together, you finally started to feel a bit at ease.

"I'll grab the first round." Finn said. "What are we all having?"

He took orders, and then went off to the bar, accompanied by Rose, leaving you and Poe standing at a high-top table together.

"So." He said, after you'd shared a few moments of small talk. "Rose said you're in a rough patch lately."

You shook your head, and then shrugged, propping yourself on the table by your forearms. "It's nothing that really matters. I just need to get over it. And I will, trust me." You tended to fall quickly and aggressively, so it was no shock that you were in such a state over a man who clearly didn't care for you one way or the other.

"Look." He said, eyes flickering up to meet yours. "You have a lot going for you. Whoever he is, he's not worth your tears."

The words took you by surprise. You stared at him for a moment, and then realized that he was right. Instead of speaking, you gave him a resolved, appreciative smile, one that he returned.

"Whooo's ready to party?" Rose asked, setting down a mai-tai in front of you. Finn handed Poe some cocktail you didn't recognize, and they clinked their glasses together.

"To best friends." Poe said, raising his glass.

"To best friends!" You all echoed.

Within a half hour, drinks were empty, and Poe had left and returned with tequila shots. One salt-shot-and-lime later, you all found yourselves on the dance floor. Five songs in, all of you were sweating. You'd found yourself dancing with a strapping stranger in a suit who was undeniably attractive but kissed with way too much tongue. Still, you indulged him, before Rose interrupted.

"[Y/N], what are you- oh my, you have a tongue down your throat. Hey, I'm gonna go get another drink, you in?"

You pulled away from the stranger, giving him a dashing smile and his arm a pat before taking Rose's hand and letting her pull you away to the bar.

As she ordered you both drinks, you looked back to the crowd. Your mouth dropped open, and you swatted her arm. "Look at Finn and Poe." You giggled into her ear.

The pair was dancing together, Poe's arm wrapped behind Finn's waist, Finn's arms slung behind the other man's neck. They smiled and eye-fucked each other so hard you could see it from across the room.

"Oh my God, I knew it!" She hissed in delight.

"Do you really think-"

"Of course I think!" She squealed. "Here." She said, sliding you another shot. You clinked your glasses and threw them back, the liquor burning in your throat.

"I'm running to the bathroom." She said. "Wait for me here."

Rose trotted away, and you stood at the bar awkwardly. Before she'd been gone for long, however, another stranger had bought you a whisky. Your dress was really doing you favors tonight. You'd already had enough but in the moment, that didn't matter. You slung it back and let it burn on the way down, this time, warming your stomach a little too much. Now, you'd had enough. You needed to slow down.

When Rose was back, you asked her where the bathroom was. She pointed you in the general direction, and you headed that way. There was a stumble in your step. Fuck, if you could just pee and maybe sit down for a few minutes, surely you'd be fine. On faltering feet, you headed to the back of the room, finding yourself at a dead end and hallways branching on either side of you. A floor-length painting hung directly in front of you, depicting half-naked woman lounging on a chaise. The room was spinning, and you didn't know where to go. Fuck, you were so dizzy and delirious, for a moment, you thought you'd need held finding the bathroom just like a fucking child.

Just as you were looking down the left hallway and then to the right in search of the lady's room, the painting in front of you suddenly opened up like a door. For a moment, you were trying to remember how much you'd had to drink, and wracking your mind trying to figure out if you'd taken any drugs you'd forgotten about; some of the clientele undoubtedly had access to some and if you'd ever been tempted to try them, it was now. But then you'd remembered what Rose had said about the bar; there was a speakeasy beneath it.

The panic dissipated; this must have been the entrance to it. You sighed in relief, realizing you weren't going crazy.

The panic came back tenfold when you realized who was coming out of the entryway.

It was Kylo Ren. With a woman on his arm.

Your breath caught in your throat. He was looking down and smiling; clearly they were engaged in some stupid, delightful conversation. But when he lifted his head and saw you, his smile dropped, and his eyes went wide.

You looked at him, then at her, and then back to him. You took a step back. Suddenly, all the alcohol in your stomach, along with the added horror and fury, roiled in your gut. You felt your stomach spasm and your throat open.

You were going to be sick. Now.

You shot him one final, hurt, betrayed expression, before turning on your heel, rushing back through the dance floor with your hand clamped over your mouth. You needed fresh air. You needed to get out of this fucking club.

You slammed the front door open and by the grace of god, the first thing you saw when you got outside was a metal trashcan on the sidewalk. You stumbled up to it, placed your hands on either side of the rim, and let yourself be sick. It was liquid heartbreak and disgust, and at least you felt some relief when you were done.

You breathed heavily, head still bobbing over the top of the trash can. You rested it on your arm, catching your breath and letting the tears fall.

But then you heard slow footsteps behind you, and you knew exactly who it was. The last person you wanted to see you like this. You lifted your head, breathing heavily through your nose, fuming with anger.

Without turning to face him, you kept your hands braced on the trash can, which was the only thing balancing you. "What kind of sleezebag goes to the same bars as students?" You slurred, suddenly somewhat less drunk than you'd been before, but not nearly enough.

"This isn't a bar for students." He corrected you. "Students never come here; this isn't a bar for kids."

"You're here aren't you?" You asked, slowly steading yourself to stand upright and turning to face him. Ren stood a good few feet away from you, watching you, making sure you were alright but not rushing to your aid either. "What are you, late twenties?" You grimaced at him, and tried to keep your lower lip from trembling as you tried to stand strong and dignified before him. "You couldn't have been a day out of grad school when you got your job. Which begs the question, actually, just how does someone straight out of school get hired as a department head at a renowned university?" The silence hung between you, and now, you were looking at him just as cold as how he usually looked at you. "But connections'll get you anywhere, I guess. When you come from a rich and famous family, the sky's the limit." His expression wasn't as hard as usual, you noticed. It was nearly blank. Impossible to read. "And the world is your bitch." You finished.

"You need to go home." He said, taking a step forward.

You took a step back, lifting your hands in a "don't shoot" gesture, or, in this case, "don't fucking touch me."

"You need to go home." You shot back, not unlike a fucking five-year-old. He took another step, and you dodged him, bouncing to your right and taking another step back, dropping your hands and glaring up at him.

"Why are you so quick to anger?" You asked him. "At first, when I saw you throwing books and shit around your office and ripping it up even when I was standing in the room with you, I thought, shit, this must really stem from some childhood trauma."

"You don't know what you're talking about." He said, though not un-gently, taking another step forward and tenderly wrapping his hand around your wrist, at this point mostly just to keep you standing upright.

"Your mom wasn't around as much as you wanted. But if you'd just waited a couple of years to figure out that everyone has it hard when they're a kid and that things get better..." your voice trailed off. And furiously, you searched for the words. "You're a selfish kid from a rich family whose parents weren't around for your stupid middle school band concerts because they were off making the world a better place."

"What are you talking about?" He sputtered, the confusion and concern now plain on his face.

"You're Ben Solo." You spat. Before, you weren't sure. But just as the words left your lips, you knew it to be true.

As soon as you said it, the world went silent and slow around you.

Everything seemed to stop. Time didn't move the same. It was slow, deliberate, causing you to experience everything that came at you all at once and let it consume you.

The first thing you saw were his eyes. You watched them go wide as you felt his hand slip from your wrist. And then, you were falling, toppling backward, watching him grow farther away from you as your back headed for the pavement.

The loud blare of a car horn broke your trance, the shining of headlights from your left realizing that time was happening now, and it was very real, and now, very fast.

You felt his hand slip behind your waist and tug you against him. The car horn blazed again as it sped past you and the headlights died away, and as soon as it past, the motion he'd taken to grab you had proved to be overshot. He lost his balance and the two of you tumbled to the asphalt road below.

You held your breath for several seconds. When your eyes fluttered open, Ren was inches away from your face, one arm holding you flush against the chest, and the other resting on the ground beside you, hand cupping the side of your face. He searched your expression as if he was making sure you were alright. Neither of you said a word; you just stared at each other, catching your breath, wordlessly making sure that both of you seemed okay and uninjured. You furrowed your brow, looking to the side. His right forearm had taken the bulk of the fall.

You opened your mouth to ask if he was alright, but just before you could, he pushed himself to his feet with a strained grunt and held out his good arm to you. Lifting yourself so you sat on your butt, you hesitated. You didn't want to trust him to give you the time of fucking day. He'd hurt and lied to you once, and he was at the bar with another woman. But he'd also just potentially saved your life.

Resolved, you clasped his hand and let him pull you up. And just as you were pulling yourself to your feet, you heard the bar door fly open. But yours and Ren's heads snapped around to see who was there.

Rose, Finn, and Poe now stood at the front of the bar, watching you standing close to Professor Ren with your hand in his.

Ren didn't know what to say. Neither did you. Neither of you knew how to cover. So instead, Ren settled with the very pressing question: "What the hell are all of you doing here?" He pulled his hand away from yours and moved it to hover behind your back-no longer an intimate touch but still enough to make sure you were sturdy on two feet.

Speechlessly, they kept their gaze fixed on the both of you, eyes switching between you and Ren, undoubtedly trying to make sense of the situation before them.

"My dad?" Poe answered pathetically.

"She with you?" Ren asked, lazily pointed at you, quirking a brow.

Your friends nodded without a word.

"I found her out here hurling into the trash can and stumbling into the road. If you let her get this drunk, you shouldn't have let her out of your sight." He criticized.

"I'm fine." You insisted.

Rose stepped forward. "We thought she just went to the bathroom." She told Ren.

"Hey. I'm right here."

"She needs to go home." He said.

Poe stepped forward. "I can take her." He looked around at Finn and Rose. "You guys can stay. I'll take care of it."

You felt Ren's hand press against your back harder, nearly pulling you towards him. "I'm headed back that way." Ren said. A lie. His house was closer to the bar than it was to campus. "I'd be happy to drop her off."

You watched Poe as his brow furrowed, looking at Ren like he'd proposed something totally taboo and inappropriate because, well, he kind of had. You felt your whole body clench with panic.

"N...no." Poe said, shaking his head. "That's okay. We're her friends. Sorry to bother you, professor."

Ren hesitated before letting you go. Rich of him to be jealous of Poe, especially given the way he and Finn had been dancing all night. The irony of it was almost delicious; Poe wasn't interested in you at all because he was interested in Finn, but the way Ren was looking at him was nearly enough to blow your cover once and for all.

But all at once, Ren dropped the anger, hid it away and buried it deep, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Not a problem. You kids have fun." Without another look, he walked past your group of friends and headed straight back into the bar. "Get her home safe." He added behind him, before closing the door and disappearing.

When you got back to the lot, all of your friends were trying to help you into the car. "I'm not that fucking drunk!" You told them, swatting hands away as they tried to guide and steady you, all of you having decided to call it a night.

"Yeah, yeah." Poe muttered, buckling your seat-belt and hopping into the driver's seat, Finn sitting next to him. You thought you saw them share a look, a smile, before Poe pulled out of the lot and headed for home.