Work Text:
“Make a wish, Ben.”
Benjamin Solo held up the white puffball by its stem, eyes full of hope as he gazed at the cluster of individual seeds.
He exhaled in a single long breath sending the seeds one by one free from the top before they were carried up by the wind and away. Ben watched them dance on the breeze, envying their freedom to follow their own path. They weren’t confined to one life— one way —like he was.
He sighed, eyes following the tiny white puffs until they disappeared from sight.
“You know, some people believe that those seeds carry your wishes and dreams,” his mother told him as they walked back inside the house. “And if you can blow all of them free at once, you will find true love.”
His father, who had been watching them from the porch, snorted. “That’s just a bunch of superstition. All it does is spread the weeds around.”
“Han.”
Ben watched his mother roll her eyes. Thankfully, his father missed the gesture. Ben didn’t want to listen to another fight.
At the tender age of six, he’d already seen Han walk out at least a dozen times. His mother crying with each departure and even though his father always returned, Ben feared there would be one day when he wouldn’t.
His parents weren’t bad people. On the contrary, they were exceptional in their fields. His mother had followed in his grandmother’s footsteps and become a Senator. His father had gone a different route. As a pilot, Han made his fortune running illegal weapons, products, and drugs for cartels, organized crime syndicates, and corrupt politicians, which was how he’d crossed paths with Leia.
Not that Ben was meant to know any of this.
Over the summer, his uncle and godfather, Chewie, had told Ben the story of how his parents met. Unlike Han and Leia, Chewie was always straightforward with Ben. He didn’t sugar-coat things the way Leia did or try to hide them the way Han chose to. He treated Ben like an adult.
Ben looked up to Chewie, both figuratively and literally, since the man stood well over six feet tall. Ben wanted to grow up to be just like his godfather.
Which was why he decided he’d become a bachelor.
He’d get a job, his own place, and live his life the way he wanted to without the pressure of becoming the next Organa in the capitol and without facing the inevitable disappointment of his parents. Like the seeds of the dandelion, he’d be free.
“Come on,” Leia guided him inside. “Go wash up. Maz has dinner ready.”
Ben did as instructed, pausing in the kitchen to sneak a cookie from their cook on his way up. She gave him a pat on the cheek and a warm smile.
“This stays between us, Ben,” Maz reminded him.
Ben gave her a thumbs up with his free hand, using his other to stuff the cookie into his mouth before his parents caught him.
As he raced upstairs, Ben wondered if his wish would come true.
Ben kicked a stray pebble across the sidewalk. He had his hands buried in his hoodie pockets as he made his way home. The walk usually calmed him down but today it only gave him time to replay the day’s events.
He’d always known his mother was adopted. Bail Organa and his wife, Breha, had been respected in the capitol. His mother’s lineage hadn’t been an issue.
Until now.
The truth of her family had been exposed— and not just to him —to the entire world.
He’d gone to school, unaware and unprepared for what was about to transpire. At first it was little things, a snide comment there, a rude remark there, but the term ‘terrorist’ was new. Ben was used to the bullies. At over six feet tall, his height and elongated features made him a target. He’d never been considered popular but once he hit high school, his small circle of friends became almost nonexistent. The only person he applied the term to was Hux and even that was a bit of a stretch.
It wasn’t until Ben entered his third-period classroom that he found out what had happened.
His mother wasn’t an Organa. She was a Skywalker, as in Anakin Skywalker, or as his cult following called him, Vader. The man was an extremist and, apparently, Ben’s grandfather.
As if he needed another reason for his classmates to alienate him.
While the media swarmed in a frenzy, like vultures fighting over an animal carcass; Ben struggled with question upon question.
Had his mother been as surprised as he was? Or had she always known? Had she purposely kept the secret from him? And if so, why?
After the initial feeling of betrayal came fear and anger.
Had Vader really been insane? What caused his madness? Was it hereditary? Was Ben destined to be just like him?
Due to the nature of the news, Ben had been dismissed early. Unsurprisingly, no one was waiting for him when he exited the school. He was left to walk home, alone with his thoughts.
As Ben turned onto the corner of his street, he spotted a lone figure in the park.
It was a girl, no more than five or six years old, crawling through the grass. Her head was bent down and her brow was furrowed in concentration.
Curious, Ben walked over. As he approached, he noticed her clothes were stained and didn’t fit her properly. There was a hole in her left shoe. Her brown hair was greasy and her tanned skin was spotted with freckles, a clear indicator she spent a lot of her time outside.
He wondered where she’d walked from. Only a handful of people in the community had children. The majority of couples were career-focused with no interest in raising a family. Those who did, dressed their children in the finest garments they could, parading them around like a show dog or using them to increase their Instagram stats.
The closest shelter was in Tatooine, over ten miles away. That seemed too far for a child her age to walk, especially since it appeared that she was alone.
“If you’re going to stand there all day, the least you can do is help me.”
Ben blinked, stunned for two reasons. One, the girl had a British accent and two, for someone so small, she had a fierce attitude. She didn’t bother to glance up at him, too busy with her task.
“Uh...”
“I need to find one before Plutt takes me back,” the girl insisted.
Instinctively, Ben knelt down beside her. “Find what?”
“A dandelion.”
“You’re looking for a weed?” Ben asked incredulously.
“It’s more than a weed. Dandelions come from the same family as sunflowers,” the girl informed him. “Those are my favorite but Plutt won’t let me keep any in my room.”
Ben didn’t know who this Plutt guy was, but he already didn’t like him. What father dressed their daughter in raggedy clothes and let her wander all over the city by herself looking for a weed?
“Why do you need a dandelion?” Ben inquired, dropping his backpack on the ground.
“To make a wish, of course,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I thought big kids knew everything.”
Ben felt his lips twitch in an attempt to smile. “I don’t know everything.”
“Duh,” the girl shot back, still crawling around.
“So what are you going to wish for?” he asked, scanning the grass for the weed’s characteristically white puffs.
She sighed dramatically. “I can’t tell you that or my wish won’t come true.”
“Right,” Ben responded with a nod. “I forgot about that rule.”
He grimaced when he picked his leg up and noticed the green smudge on his kneecap. His mom wasn’t going to be pleased. These were his new DIESEL jeans. Ben considered stopping but one glance at the girl and he knew he couldn’t.
“So why aren’t you in school?” he asked.
“Why aren’t you?”
Touché.
“Family thing. I left early,” he explained. “How about you?”
“I don’t have a family,” she confessed.
Ben stared at her, watching the determined way she searched. It was simple enough to guess what she needed a wish for. Hadn’t he made a similar wish when he was her age?
“You know, not all wishes come true,” Ben said, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. “Even if you find one and blow all the seeds off, it doesn’t mean you’ll get what you wished for.”
“Says you,” she muttered in an annoyed tone. “But you didn’t even know dandelions granted wishes so—.” She stuck out her tongue at him.
It was the first time Ben got a good look at her. The girl’s face was dotted with freckles, a cluster folded over the bridge of her nose. Her brown hair was swept up into a trio of tight buns, keeping it out of her face. It was a practical style for such a young child. Ben wondered who had done it.
“Ah! Found one!”
She jumped up so quickly that all Ben saw was a blur of movement. The girl snatched up the dandelion, careful as she brought it to her face. Her bright hazel eyes widened in awe.
Ben smirked, straightening up as he saw an array of emotions play across her face— joy, satisfaction, wonder, and hope.
It was the last one that struck a chord with him. Ben had been hopeful once. He’d hoped his dad wouldn’t walk out again. He’d hoped he would make his mother proud. He’d hoped to grow up to be just like his uncle Chewie. None of those things had come true.
And neither had his wish.
But in that moment, watching this little girl, Ben didn’t want to tell her any of that. He didn’t want to crush her spirit. He wanted to believe, if not in the magic of a dandelion or the innocence of a child’s wish, than in the girl herself.
There was something about her. Maybe it was the fact she reminded Ben of himself when he was her age or maybe it was the strange urge he felt to protect her. Either way, he stood by and let her make her wish.
She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, exhaling in one long puff. Ben’s gaze followed the seeds as they separated from the round seed head. They broke free of the base, lifting off slowly at first before the wind caught them.
As the cluster danced in the breeze, Ben saw her hazel eyes glisten with unshed tears. The brown and green mixture was accented by specks of gold, shining in the early afternoon sunlight. It was a good color in her, enhancing her already vibrant personality and tan complexion.
“What’s your name?” he found himself asking.
She flashed him a smile full of teeth. “Rey. What’s yours?”
“Ben.” He extended his hand to her. “Ben Solo.”
Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand. But she didn’t shake it. She led him deeper into the park.
“Let’s find you a dandelion, Ben.”
He’d given up on naive notions like Santa Claus and wishing on flowers when his parents separated. There was no luck in a forgotten penny, no need to wish upon a star, and he didn’t think a discarded eyelash would grant him any favors. Ben didn’t believe in superstitions.
But this girl— Rey —was pure magic.
There was no other way to describe her. She didn’t hesitate the way his teachers did when they had to address him. Her eyes didn’t widen in fear when he spoke to her like he’d seen his peers do. She showed no signs of resentment, which was how his mother received him at home. For some unknown reason, Rey was kind to him, accepting, and to Ben it felt like magic.
She searched the field with the same fervor as before, muttering to herself in a way that should have annoyed him. However, he was too focused on the fact that Rey was still holding his hand.
Weren’t kids supposed to be wary of strangers?
Ben started to ask her when she let out a squeal of joy. His arm was nearly dislocated from his shoulder socket as she dragged him for several yards. She was strong for such a scrawny little thing.
Rey pointed excitedly at a lone dandelion. “Look!”
To Ben, it looked like a rogue weed but she stared at it as if it was the holy grail. He had to admit it was perfect, in its own way. Not a single seed was out of place. It was complete and ready to fulfill its purpose.
“Make a wish!” Rey demanded, bouncing on the balls of her feet expectantly.
He knelt down to pluck the plant from the grass. The white head tilted in the breeze and Ben heard Rey gasp, her innocent eyes focused on the flower with an intensity that only came from a true believer.
Ben didn’t believe the weed would grant him a wish but he knew if he didn’t keep up appearances the bright smile on her face would vanish. So he blew the seeds across the park.
Rey watched, entranced by the swirling cluster for a moment. Ben seized the opportunity to take a better look at her.
The clothes, he had assumed were hand-me-downs, were not only too large for her but they were also meant for a boy. They hung loosely around her frame, stained in some places and ripped in others. It was through one of the tears that he noticed a purpling bruise on her ribs.
Ben clenched his jaw. “Rey?”
She glanced up at him, inquisitively. “Yeah?”
“Are you hungry?”
Her gaze dropped to her worn shoes. She kicked at the ground, avoiding his questioning eyes.
Ben cleared his throat. “‘Cause I am. I was thinking of making a burger and some mac n’ cheese once I got home but I always make too much. Maybe you could eat with me?”
“With real cheese?”
The way she asked made something in his chest ache.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered.
Rey pursed her lips, but after a brief pause, she beamed up at him.
“Okay!”
Convincing Rey to follow him home took next to no effort. Convincing Maz to whip them up an impromptu lunch took even less. The elderly woman was smitten with the six-year-old, fawning over her the way Ben had seen people act around babies or a new puppy. She was so busy fussing over Rey that no one noticed Leia Organa enter the kitchen.
“What’s going on here?”
Ben cringed. Her tone was laced with disappointment and thinly-veiled anger.
“Hi, mom.” He gave her a sheepish wave.
“Benjamin Organa Solo, what are you doing home? You’re supposed to be at school!”
“I was dismissed,” he answered.
His mother closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ben.” She sighed. “I really can’t deal with this right now. Why did you have to get suspended today of all days?”
“I wasn’t suspended,” he retorted, annoyance leaking into his reply. “The guidance counselor suggested I go home.” He ended with a pointed look.
His mother stared at him over her knuckles, her expression unreadable. Leia opened her mouth to respond when she spotted the child seated next to him.
Instinctively, Ben stiffened, preparing himself for another fight.
His mother’s gaze softened as her hand fell away from her face. “And who is this?” she asked, approaching Rey with a gentle smile.
Unlike how bubbly she’d been when Ben had met her in the park, Rey shied away. She hunched in on herself, appearing even smaller than she already was.
“It’s okay,” Ben assured her. “This is my mom.”
Rey’s gaze flickered from his face to Leia’s, then back to him before she relaxed. “Hi,” she greeted his mother meekly.
“Hello there,” Leia responded. “Are you one of the Dameron’s kids?”
Rey’s face scrunched up. “Who?”
“Ben found her in the park and a good thing too,” the cook explained as she dumped another generous spoonful of Mac n cheese into Rey’s plate. “Poor dear is just skin and bones.”
Leia stared at Ben in disbelief. He tried to not be bothered by her surprise but he couldn’t deny how much it hurt. Why couldn’t his mother see any good in him? Was he really that much like his old man?
“Ben—.”
“I won’t be any trouble,” Rey insisted, interrupting whatever his mother had begun to say. “I can clean and fix appliances and cook...well, sort of, but Maz can teach me. You’ll hardly notice I’m here. Just please,” her voice cracked a bit, “please don’t send me back there.”
Leia moved to stand between her and Ben. “Back where, sweetie?”
“To Plutt’s.”
“Plutt’s,” Maz scoffed. “You don’t mean that salvage yard on Jakku Street, do you?”
Rey nodded timidly.
“Leia.” Maz gestured to the hallway and Ben watched as the two older women walked out to talk about their guest.
His chest tightened. They wouldn’t send her away, would they? They couldn’t. Not after the way she’d reacted. Not when it was clear she was neglected and abused.
No.
He wouldn’t let them.
If his mother was worried about the cost, he’d get a part-time job after school. Maybe he could work at Chewie’s garage for a few hours each night and on the weekends. Han had taught him a few things before he left.
Tiny hands tugged on his shirt.
“Ben.”
He turned to glance down at Rey.
“I can stay with you, right?” she asked.
Her eyes were shimmering and her lower lip trembled. He hated how dim her light had gone in the span of the last few minutes. The pain in his chest increased until it felt like it was tearing him apart. Ben hated the idea of her— or any child —being afraid to go home.
No, not home, he corrected himself.
Whatever place she’d lived in up until now wasn’t worthy of such a term.
Ben hadn’t considered his house a home in years. Things had changed once Han had left. A void had taken up residence in his heart and in his mind. No matter how hard he worked in a school or how many books he read, nothing filled the void he was plagued with.
Nothing until this child— this girl —appeared.
He’d been adrift without a purpose, without cause, but that was all about to change.
“Of course, kid,” he promised. “You can stay as long as you want.”
And she did.
At least for a little while.
His mother agreed to host her while Social Services sorted things out. From following her around on the campaign trail, Ben knew the government took its time. So as the days bled into weeks and weeks turned into months, he allowed himself to get used to having Rey around.
He took her to school, brought her to Chewie’s garage, and even taught her how to ride a bike. With Rey around, Ben didn’t notice the void his father had left. If his mother was late for dinner, he didn’t berate her or stomp up to his room. When his classmates picked on him, he let it go. It didn’t matter what they thought. Rey thought he was perfect. She believed in him and that was all that mattered.
And then the rug was pulled out from under him.
“Ben, Rey, this is Mr. and Mrs. Andor.”
He froze in the doorway, mid-chuckle from a joke Rey had just told him. His mother was waiting for them in the foyer, flanked by a handsome couple who were focused on Rey.
“No.”
Ben didn’t even realize it was his voice speaking at first. He sounded bitter, old, tired.
“Ben—.”
“No,” he repeated more forcibly.
“Now, I know you’re fond of—.”
“You’re not taking her,” he snarled at the couple.
“Benjamin.”
He flinched at his mother’s tone.
“We had an agreement, remember?”
“I can’t stay with you?” It was the first time Rey had spoken since they crossed the threshold. Ben saw her pull away from him, confusion and disappointment clouding her features.
“Rey, as a ward of the state, you should be placed in foster care but we were able to find you a family,” Leia explained. “You can have a home, a real one.”
“Ben?” She stared up at him, those big hazel eyes searching for one more wish, one last shot at hope.
He glanced over at his mother, whose lips were pressed in a firm, thin line. Ben knew he could argue with her, scream until the neighbors called the cops and drug him out for the night, but it wouldn’t change things.
“Looks like you got your wish, kid,” he told her, inclining his head toward the Andors. “Guess wishing on dandelions works after all.”
The second Ben said those words, he knew he’d made a mistake. Rey withdrew from him completely. For the first time, she stared at him the way his peers stared at him: like he was a monster.
Her trust, once so easily given, was broken.
Ben didn’t hear anything after that. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and, yet, he couldn’t move.
Rey had always acted as though she needed him, but the longer he was around her, Ben realized he was the one who needed her. And in the end, he did nothing. He didn’t stop them from taking her. He didn’t stop her from crying. He just let it all happen, as if it was a horrible scene in a movie that he couldn’t turn away from.
When his mother closed the front door, it broke his trance. His shoulders began to shake. His hands clenched and unclenched around nothing but air. Rey was gone.
Ben collapsed to his knees and wept.
He tried calling. Every day for a year, but each time, Mrs. Andor’s response was the same.
“I’m sorry, Ben. Rey’s not ready to talk to you yet.”
He sent an invitation to his graduation. She never came.
The last time Ben called was just before he left for college. He’d been accepted into the Law School of Corellia, nearly three-thousand miles away. Not that it mattered. He could have been three million miles away and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Rey refused to see him.
He left it all behind and let his past die— his childhood home, his name, and the last of his hope.
Kylo Ren’s eyes were hard as he stood in front of the place he’d sworn to never return to. The house was vacant— had been for months —and while it posed no threat, he regarded it warily.
In the past fifteen years, he’d only spoken to his mother a handful of times. Two of those occurrences being within the last week.
His mother had suffered a stroke.
He’d lost his father a few years prior but the news hadn’t affected him. Kylo hadn’t seen Han since he walked out on them.
His mother was a different story.
After he left, she stepped down from her role in the Senate. She became a college advisor, focusing on political science and ethics. Her classes became so popular that she’d been asked to write a book. The tour brought her to Corellia.
It had been the first time he’d seen her in nearly a decade. His first thought was how old she’d become. Gone was the youthful rebellion in her eyes. It was replaced by a tenacity he’d only seen glimpses of during his childhood, a fierceness that only came out when his mother felt backed into a corner.
“Ben.”
When she spoke, he understood her need for such an expression. “It’s Kylo now,” he reminded her.
Leia sighed. “Ben, I haven’t seen you in ten years. The least you could do is humor a poor, elderly woman.”
“You’re hardly poor or...,” he trailed off. Kylo couldn’t lie to her.
“Don’t get old,” she advised, laughing the awkward moment off.
They’d shared a meal together, making small talk about what they’d both been up to since he’d left. Kylo didn’t mention Han, and Leia didn’t either. It became clear they were both working carefully to avoid any uncomfortable subjects.
His mother didn’t bring up Rey and Kylo didn’t ask. He’d held out hope for far too long that they’d meet again. Kylo knew it was too late. She was gone, taken from him like everything else in his life— his family, his freedom to choose, and his happiness.
Kylo had told himself his past was behind him, put to rest just like his deceased father. But when he returned to his apartment that night, alone and left with only his thoughts, he still saw her face— bright and hopeful. It was bittersweet.
Seeing Rey always spurred an array of conflicting emotions within him. There was the initial joy, followed closely by longing, which ultimately morphed into regret, and finally rage.
He blamed his mother for making him think of her. When Leia returned to Corellia in the fall, Kylo made up an excuse as to why he couldn’t meet her. She’d tried calling but he ignored her.
Until he couldn’t.
When he’d received the call, Kylo felt his world shift. He flew across the country, taking his first vacation since joining the law firm after graduation.
No one had been more surprised to see him than Leia, whose first response was to berate him for hurrying out.
“It’s nothing,” she assured. “Just a fall. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”
Only it wasn’t just a fall. The doctors determined Leia had fallen unconscious due to a stroke. She needed a procedure and physical therapy before she was discharged.
Kylo hadn’t left her side since they presented her diagnosis.
He’d been living out of a hotel room a block from the hospital and every day his routine was the same. Wake up, shower, grab coffee, and then visit. He’d sit with her for hours, reading to her, working while she slept or was getting tests done, and then read some more.
Treatment included a prescription regime, regular visits to the family doctor, and some additional testing. The doctors suggested they sign up for a rehabilitation program, since she was regaining the ability to walk. They kept her comfortable and Kylo, well, he did his best to take care of what the hospital couldn’t.
Which was what had brought him back to his childhood home.
Leia wanted her mother’s rosary. It seemed like an odd request, considering the fact that Kylo had never seen his mother attend church. Not once in her entire life. Still, she had insisted, so here he was, searching through her drawers and jewelry box for his grandmother’s rosary necklace.
As he rummaged around, Kylo didn’t hear the kitchen door open and close. Nor, did he hear the voice calling upstairs to him.
In hindsight, Kylo should have thought to ask his mother if any of the staff was still employed and if they knew of her condition.
“Drop it!” a feminine voice snarled at him.
Kylo froze, hand clasped around the black wood and pearl necklace. Slowly, he turned around and lifted his hands up.
A girl stood in the doorway. She was tall and slim with brown hair hanging around her face. Her hazel eyes were narrowed and her fists firmly clenched around a broom.
“Listen, I’m just here to—.”
“I said drop it, thief!” the girl demanded, swatting his forearm with a broom handle.
“Dammit,” Kylo hissed. Instinctively, he rubbed the spot with his free hand. She was stronger than she looked.
“I’m only going to ask you one more time. Return all the jewelry and step back.”
“I just need this necklace so—.”
She cut him off, slicing the broom through the air as if she was wielding a sword. Kylo side-stepped to avoid being struck, but just barely.
The girl was fast. Her slight form allowed her to move with unparalleled speed and grace. His awe was only superseded by his survivor instincts, which kept him out of range.
Barely.
She cornered him between the closet and the armoire.
“Who steals from a defenseless woman?” the girl snapped at him.
“You’re not defenseless,” he managed to reply between pants.
What good were all those hours at the gym if one little sparring session with a girl half his age got him out of breath?
“I wasn’t talking about me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Leia. You have some nerve.”
“I agree. I should have been here sooner,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair to brush it out of his face.
That was when her eyes widened. Her grip loosened until the broom dropped to the floor. She stumbled back a step, lips parting.
“Ben?”
His brow furrowed. Kylo was fairly certain he hasn’t met her before. He would have remembered someone so impressive.
“Who—.”
“It is you,” she said with a gasp. Her mouth closed and he watched as she struggled to swallow. “I thought...it’s been years, and Leia said you weren’t coming back...” she trailed off, stopping and starting a few times before she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I attacked you.”
“That’s okay,” Kylo replied, wracking his brain to figure out who she was.
She didn’t look like any of his former classmates, which made sense. She was far too young to have gone to school with him. Maybe a younger sibling? Or someone from the neighborhood?
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. He couldn’t help the way his eyes followed the movement.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
His silence was all the answer she needed.
“Right,” she muttered. The fire in her eyes dimmed. “Um, I won’t keep you. I was just bringing the mail in. See you around, Ben.” She gave him a half-hearted wave and walked out.
Kylo watched her go, not understanding why seeing her sad made his chest hurt.
“So how did it go?” his mother asked when he returned.
“Fine,” Kylo answered, absently. He handed her the necklace, his mind still reeling from the confusing encounter at the house.
And the girl who knew his real name.
The way she had looked at him had been so intense as if she cared for him, as if she loved him. It made the whole situation seem surreal. Maybe he had dreamed it all up. Maybe he was still at the hotel and had overslept and...
“Ben?”
“Huh?” He glanced at his mother, snapping out of trance.
“I said, did you run into Rey? She usually comes by this time of day to...”
Kylo didn’t hear another word. His mother’s voice was drowned out by the increasing volume of his pulse thundering in his ears.
Rey.
The girl.
The reason why she knew his name— why she knew him.
Rey.
“Shit!”
Kylo raced out of the room.
It wasn’t until he was half-way to the elevators, he realized he didn’t know where she lived. With an abrupt about-face, he ran back to his mother’s room.
Leia was waiting by the door, an expectant smirk on her face. She shook her head when he returned, a bit out of breath. “Just like your father,” she remarked with a tsk of her tongue.
“Where can I find her?”
“She owns the Sunflower Cafe on Third Avenue,” his mother informed him. “If you hurry, you can get there before the dinner rush.”
Kylo leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.”
As he sprinted off, Leia shouted after him, “Good luck!”
He didn’t hear her scoff, “Men,” as she shook her head and wandered back into her room.
The Sunflower Cafe was a small cottage on the corner of Third and Spruce. There was a huge garden decorating the walkway, which led customers to the closed in front porch, waiting area, and the entrance.
Kylo wiped his sweaty palms on his pants as he stood outside, waiting for the last patron to leave. He’d already walked around the block seven times, reciting his apology, checking the flowers he’d bought on the way over, and fussing with his hair.
Why had he let it grow so long?
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the elderly man left. Kylo took a deep breath and marched into the cafe.
When he entered, a bell chimed from above the door.
“Be with you in a sec!” Rey called from somewhere he couldn’t see.
Kylo glanced around the cafe. It was a quaint little restaurant with mismatched furniture and local art hung on the walls. Potted plants and hanging flower baskets decorated most of the free space and off to the side were a pair of swinging doors, which he assumed led to the kitchen.
Where Rey was.
Suddenly, the weight of what he’d done hit him. He hoped the peace offering he’d brought would satisfy her long enough to give him the chance to apologize.
“Sorry about that,” she apologized as she emerged from behind the doors, wiping her hands clean on a dishtowel. “I was just— Ben?”
“Hi.”
Hi? Hi! He’d broken every speed limit in town to rush over her and the best he could come hi with was ‘hi’? Inwardly, he groaned, wishing the floor would swallow him up.
“Hi,” Rey replied hesitantly.
“Here.” He thrust the bouquet he picked in her hands.
She blinked, clearly startled, but accepted them with a soft ‘thank you.’ Ben fidgeted nervously as she stared at him, uncertain about his motives.
Then she glanced down.
“Dandelions?”
“Uh...” Kylo scratched the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot. What moron bought a beautiful girl— woman , he reminded himself, she was grown up now —weeds instead of roses? He really should have asked his mother for advice before he charged in here.
“So you do remember me?” The smile she gave him took his breath away.
“You’ve changed,” he stated.
Rey laughed and if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, he wasn’t sure what was.
“You haven’t,” she observed.
He wasn’t sure what she meant but it really didn’t matter, not when she was looking at him that way— her way —like he hung the moon in the sky.
Kylo had loved her when he’d been Ben Solo. She’d been the friend he wanted, the family he never had, and the voice to guide him in the dark. She’d filled every cavity in his heart, soothing the wounds his father had left behind.
Seeing her again was like a breath of fresh air, like a cool glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day, or sinking into a steaming hot bath after shoveling snow for hours. All the tension in his shoulders lessened, the crease in his brow relaxed, and he felt as though he was coming back to himself.
It was the same as before.
Well, almost.
One thing had changed.
The way he felt— the adoration, devotion, and respect —was still there but something else had developed.
Attraction. Longing. Desire.
The familiar pang in his chest returned. He understood now. A side effect of his condition was heartache.
And he had to know.
Did she feel it too?
“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” he asked sheepishly. “Because I’m sorry, Rey. I’m so goddamn sorry that it hurts.”
“Do you think I waited fifteen years for you to tell me you’re sorry?”
Waited? Did that mean...
When he didn’t answer, Rey set the flowers down and closed the distance between them. Slowly, as if she thought she’d scare him, she wrapped her arms around his torso.
Kylo froze, wondering for the second time that day, if he was dreaming. Rey rested her head against his chest and it became real. He enveloped her in a hug, closing his eyes as he savored the warmth of her against him.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” he confessed.
After a moment, she leaned back to stare up at him. “You aren’t going to disappear on me again, are you?”
Ben bent down to press a feather-light kiss to her lips.
“No,” he promised. “I’m never leaving you again.”