Vision

Survival

When Rey got home, she found a solemn Ben Solo on her steps. Her little house sat, looking cozy, with an improbably large man with long, long legs stretched out, elbows leaning, resting on her porch. He stood when she got out of her car and walked up. How he found her, she didn't know. She didn't want to know.

"It's survival," he said. "It's not optional."

"So, you want this?" Rey asked. "Us?"

"We are a dyad. We cannot survive alone. Only together," he said. "Can we try?"

Rey blew out a breath. "All right, come in," she said. "You may as well."

She didn't like the idea, but there he was. Maybe they should speak to one another.

Inside, Ben took up more than his fair share of space in Rey's tiny house. Rey offered him a seat on her sectional, and he sank into it. His presence set Rey's soulmark to itching again, still a small burn against her skin. She scratched.

Ben saw her dig her nails into her wrist. He held out a hand.

"I will help you," he said. "If we touch, it will stop."

Rey hesitated. She did not care to touch him just yet. "Why are you so sad all the time? Your writing, your face, your voice. Everything is sorrowful and weary. Miserable, depressing. I can't be like that."

Ben lowered his hand. "I'm sorry. My life has been hard sometimes, and I am not given to easy laughter or conversation. The sorrow wells up in me and spills out everywhere. It's why I write." He gazed and the floor for a moment. Then looked up at Rey. "I can't help being sad."

"From what?"

"I am the child of absent parents. My uncle thought I was a bad seed and turned them against me. I spent a lot of time alone, listening to nothing but my own dark thoughts. It is a hard habit to break."

"But you must break it, Ben," Rey said, urgently. She didn't know exactly why it was so important. But it was.

"I can break it if you will let me in," Ben said. "Then we will both survive."

Rey shook her head. "I don't know, Ben. I want to thrive. I want to be happy. I can't tie myself to a despondent man."

"I am dark. I am not a light person, but I am yours, my Rey. Please touch me," he said.

Rey wondered if his survival depended on her touch. She wondered if hers depended on him.

Rey stretched out her hand. Ben's hand met hers between them. They touched palms and the marks burned again. Rey cried out and reflexively clasped Ben's hand in hers. He tugged her down to sit with him, to hold her tightly in his arms, to bury his face in her soft hair.

The burning and itching subsided.

Bonded.