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It started in the waking world, but sometimes, now, it crept into her dreams. Usually it woke her, the unfamiliar warmth of a body beside hers, the lack of blankets covering her shoulders, the cold feet tangled with hers.
At first she’d fought it, the way she fought him on his first appearance into her mindscape. She had gnashed her teeth, disgusted at what he’d chosen, who he was slowly becoming—something worse than Kylo, something pitch black and unstable.
“I don’t want this tonight,” she muttered into her pillow. She was sick of his constant intrusions, her sleep depravation, her confused and tortured heart.
He rolled to face her, the depression of his scar catching deeper shadows on his already hazy face. “I don’t choose when this happens and neither do you. Let’s not fight; I’m exhausted.”
“Oh you’re exhausted? From doing what? Conquering planets, enslaving races?”
“I don’t do either of those things.”
“Could have fooled me.”
"Rey.” Her name was so sweet on his tongue. It sounded like a birdsong, airy, soft, full of tenderness and light. She hated when he said it, hated how much she craved her name on his breath. “I don’t know how many times we have to go over this. We’re working towards the same goal.”
"You bring bloodshed wherever you go.”
“We’re at war, that’s the nature of it. You’re not guilt-free either.”
"At least I’m not fueled by rage.”
“And you think I am?”
She frowned, scrutinizing his face. He was weary on a level that wasn’t physical, his expression lacking any bite. It had been a long number of months since they’d argued heatedly. Now it was mostly done under the starlight, a fire burning in her that wasn’t reflected in him. He deflected, but never attacked her back. “What drives you, then?”
He chuckled, the sound more melancholy than humorous. “You, mostly. Loneliness. Anger, shame, self-doubt—the usual.”
Her?
“I don’t think about you anymore.”
This time his laugh was amused. “Like hell you don’t. We’re bound, I know when your thoughts drift to me. You think about me daily. How I’m doing, if I’ll ever wake up one morning and come back to you. If I meant what I said, that you’re not no one to me.”
She recoiled as though he’d stabbed her, sharp slices of words lancing her heart. “You’re making that up.”
“I have never once lied to you, Rey.” He moved closer, eyes bright in the midnight. “You know when I think about you too. That I’m afraid to lose you, am always searching for you, wanting to be beside you again. You know I think you’re everything.”
Scrubbing a tear from her cheek, she had to look away from him in order to speak without choking. “How did this happen to us? Caring for one another?”
“We were lonely and afraid. Equals lost on the same road searching for belonging. A textbook example.” He yawned and inched towards her. “Now, do you want to sleep in my arms, or should we go back to pretending we’re strangers?”
His arms, she’d always pick his arms. She curled into him, her fingers searching out the starburst scar on his left shoulder, somewhere they frequented in the deep nights. “Why do I love you?”
They’d admitted it once before, howling at each other on opposite sides of the galaxy, unable to see the other’s surroundings. She’d broken a table; he’d smashed his fist through a wall.
I hate that I care about what happens to you, I hate that I love you, she’d roared, throwing a chair at his visage. He’d stopped dead, eyes wide. The argument crumbled to pieces as his anger fizzled into the air.
You what?
They’d been spending the night together every few weeks afterwards. If she’d never said anything, his lips might not be pressed to her forehead now. She might not have been pining for company, for comfort, for some reassurance that everything would be right in the end.
"Because I make you feel like you belong somewhere.” He wiped the next tear from her cheek. “The same reason I love you.”
“Come home, Ben. Please.” She kissed his palm when it drifted across her mouth. “It’s been so long, let’s just end this. Run away together, disappear, never look back on all of the mess.”
"You’re using my words against me.” His smile was fragile and painful. “You know I'd leave with you in a heartbeat, but you don’t want that, do you sunshine?”
She shook her head. She just wanted him back, the man who stood in Kylo’s place during the depths of the night, who came to her when she was ready to crack under all the pressure, the conflict, the expectations. She saw his future, knew he belonged to her. Why, then, was he always so far from her reach?
“Soon,” he said softy, squeezing her tightly. “I need to see you again soon or I fear I’ll become more off-course. I have a plan, Rey. I need you to trust me.”
“I trust you about as far as I can throw you.”
“How can you say you love me if you don’t trust me?”
"They’re not mutually exclusive.”
“Well, just believe me when I say I’m working towards coming back to you. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I swear you’re all I want. This war is so tiring, love. I can’t keep it up much longer.”
“Ben?”
“Yes?”
Her heart always leapt an inch when he responded to his name. “Promise me that the next time we’re face to face you’ll come home.”
“That’s a high demand.”
“Promise me.”
He kissed her slowly and rested his forehead against hers. “I promise.”
She fell asleep with thoughts of being curled beside him in the same bed, not light-years away. This was almost as good, almost a perfect replacement, save for the pang of loneliness that crept through her bones in the morning, her bed cold and empty. There wasn’t a trace of him in the room. No lingering scent of a gentle cologne and worn leather, no strands of dark hair clinging to her pillows, no residual warmth on the other side of the mattress.
Tapping into their connection, she knew he felt the same upon waking, a sigh building in his chest. She watched him run his hand across the sheets, as though searching for some sign of her, some indication they weren’t as alone as they felt.
I miss you, she told him softly, moving his duvet up to cover his exposed shoulder. He smiled and it warmed her core, knowing something so small from her could cause him comfort.
A pillow knocked gently into her and she giggled, lying back down with it cradled against her chest. If she reached out, she could skim his fingers, feel the heat of his body. So close; so painfully far.
Soon, his voice drifted through her head, I promised.
He did. And she would hold him to it.