Rey had always found solace in the colour green. Growing up in Arizona's unforgiving desert landscape, where the only colours were various shades of brown and the relentless blue of the cloudless sky, she'd dreamed of something more. When she finally moved to Seattle for college, the explosion of verdant life nearly brought her to tears. The towering evergreens, the moss-covered stones, the delicate ferns unfurling in the misty morning air – it was everything she'd ever imagined and more.
So when Ben Solo casually mentioned during their first study group meeting that he hated the colour green, Rey felt personally offended. Who could possibly hate green? It was like hating oxygen or sunshine or puppies.
"What do you mean you don't like green?" she'd demanded, her pencil frozen mid-equation.
Ben had merely shrugged those ridiculous shoulders of his, not even bothering to look up from his textbook. "It's an aggressive colour. Unsophisticated."
Unsophisticated? Rey had never heard such pretentious nonsense in her life. She'd glared at him across the library table, taking in his all-black ensemble (of course he wore all black, the walking cliché) and perfectly styled hair. Everything about him screamed "trust fund kid who'd never had to work for anything in his life."
From that moment on, Rey made it her personal mission to challenge everything Ben Solo said or did. When he suggested one approach to their group project, she immediately proposed an alternative. When he claimed that coffee was superior to tea, she launched into a passionate defense of Earl Grey. When he held the door open for her one morning, she purposely used the other entrance.
Deep down, Rey knew she was being ridiculous. Their classmates had started taking bets on what they'd argue about next. Even their professor had commented on their "spirited academic discourse" with barely concealed amusement. But Rey couldn't help herself – every time she saw Ben's stupid face, she remembered his dismissal of her favourite colour, and the petty fire in her soul blazed anew.
The most infuriating part? Despite her best efforts to paint him as a villain in her mind, Ben was annoyingly competent. His project ideas were usually solid, his arguments well-reasoned (even if they were wrong), and his notes immaculate. He never rose to her bait with anything more than a raised eyebrow and the occasional smirk that made her want to throw things at his head.
And if she sometimes caught herself noticing how his dark eyes sparkled when they debated, or how his voice got deeper when he was passionate about a topic, well... that was purely for tactical purposes. Know thy enemy and all that.
Still, she couldn't help but smile with satisfaction when she noticed him absentmindedly wearing a forest green sweater one chilly autumn morning. When their eyes met across the classroom, his cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly looked away.
Maybe there was hope for him yet.
"Well, well, well," Rey drawled the next morning, sliding into the seat next to him with a triumphant grin. "Look who finally discovered colours exist outside the funeral palette."
Ben's jaw tightened as he tugged self-consciously at the sleeve of the green sweater. "It was the only clean thing I had," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Get over yourself, Rey. Not everything is about your weird colour crusade."
"Oh, so you're telling me this isn't your subtle way of admitting I'm right?" She propped her chin on her hand, enjoying his discomfort far too much. "What's next, Ben Solo? Will you admit that pineapple belongs on pizza? That Die Hard is actually a Christmas movie?"
"Has anyone ever told you that you're exhausting?" But there was something almost fond in his exasperation.
Rey studied him, genuinely curious despite herself. "What colour do you actually like? It can't just be black. That's not even a proper colour – it's just... nothing. The absence of everything." She wrinkled her nose. "Actually, that tracks. It's probably as void of life as that thing you call a heart."
"Blue," he said quietly, surprising her with an actual answer. "Deep blue, like the ocean at night. Happy now?"
Rey wasn't sure why this simple admission made her feel off-balance. She'd expected him to snark back at her, to maintain their usual pattern of bickering. Instead, she found herself thinking about dark blue waves under a starlit sky, and why someone like Ben Solo would be drawn to such a specific shade.
"I..." she started, then stopped, unsure what to say. For once in her life, she didn't have a ready comeback.
Something flickered across Ben's face – hurt, maybe? – but it was gone so quickly Rey thought she might have imagined it. Ben's expression suddenly hardened. "You know what? My favourite colour isn't any of your concern." He slammed his notebook shut. "Why are you so obsessed with me and my interests anyway?"
"Obsessed?" Rey sputtered, heat rising to her cheeks. "I am not obsessed with you!"
"No?" Ben turned to face her fully, and she was startled by the intensity in his eyes. "Then why do you constantly harass me? Every single day, every single class, you find something new to criticize or mock."
"I do not!" Rey's voice came out louder than intended, drawing curious glances from nearby students.
"It's all you do, Rey," Ben's voice was quiet but sharp. "You enjoy tormenting me so much that you can't even let me wear a damn sweater in peace. Well, I've had enough. If you're going to insist on shitting on everything I say or do, then maybe it's better if we just stay away from each other entirely."
Rey reeled back as if she'd been slapped. The genuine hurt in his voice cut through her usual defenses, leaving her speechless. She watched him gather his things, his movements stiff with anger, and for the first time, she really looked at the situation from his perspective.
Had she really been that much of a bitch to him? Sure, their bickering had started over something silly – his dislike of the colour green – but when had it crossed the line from playful debate into genuine harassment? The sick feeling in her stomach suggested she'd passed that line a long time ago.
True to his word, Ben stayed away. He switched seats in their shared classes, declined to participate in study groups she was part of, and somehow managed to time his library visits for when she wasn't there. Rey hadn't realized how much space he'd occupied in her daily life until that space became achingly empty.
The worst part was how wrong it felt. She kept turning to make snarky comments about their professor's weird analogies, only to find an empty chair beside her. She'd spot something ridiculous – like a poster advertising a "green living" seminar – and automatically think of how she could use it to needle him, only to remember she couldn't anymore. Even their classmates noticed the shift, the strange quiet that had settled where their bickering used to be.
"I never hated him," she whispered to her reflection one evening, the admission burning in her throat. It was easier to say it to the mirror than to herself. "I just... I don't know what I was doing."
The truth was, she missed him. Missed his eye rolls and sharp comebacks, missed the way he'd purse his lips when trying not to smile at one of her more ridiculous arguments. She even missed that stupid black sweater he wore at least twice a week. She'd gotten so caught up in their dynamic of antagonism that she hadn't realized their arguments had become the highlight of her day.
"Shit," Rey dropped her head into her hands, finally admitting what she'd been avoiding. "I really messed up."
She spotted him at Poe's house party a week later, standing alone by the kitchen island, red solo cup in hand. The party lights caught the angles of his face as he stared into his drink, lost in thought. Rey's heart did a weird little stutter that she chose to blame on the bass-heavy music.
After fifteen minutes of internal debate and one shot of liquid courage, she made her way over to him. "Sup, Solo?"
Ben's head snapped up, his expression immediately guarded. "Come to fight with me again?"
"What? No, no," Rey held up her hands in surrender. "Just wanted to chat."
His laugh was hollow. "Every time you 'chat' with me, you end up insulting me, my interests, my opinions." He took a long drink. "Hell, you even make fun of my looks."
"I've never made fun of your looks!" Rey protested automatically.
Ben's eyes rolled skyward. "See? Not even five minutes and you're already trying to argue with me." He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "I've had enough of people making fun of me, Rey. High school was... rough. I thought college would be different, but then you came along and made it your mission to—" He cut himself off, jaw working. "You know what? Never mind. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid."
"I'm sorry," Rey blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them. "Really, I am. You were actually a good classmate when we worked together in groups, and I..." she swallowed hard, then held out her hand. "Truce?"
Ben stared at her outstretched hand for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he let out a long breath. "Fine," he said, his large hand engulfing hers in a firm shake. The warmth of his palm lingered even after he pulled away.
"Should we get a refill?" Rey gestured to his nearly empty cup, trying to keep the hopeful note from her voice.
"I could definitely use more to drink," Ben admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
They ended up claiming a quiet corner of the back porch, where the music was muffled enough for actual conversation. To Rey's surprise, talking to Ben without their usual antagonism was... nice. More than nice. He had a dry sense of humor that caught her off guard, making her giggle more times than she could count. Was it the alcohol making everything feel warm and fuzzy, or had his eyes always been such a beautiful shade of brown?
"I can't believe you actually watched all the extended editions of Lord of the Rings in one sitting," she said, leaning against the porch railing.
"It's the only proper way to watch them," Ben insisted, his face animated in a way she'd never seen before. "The theatrical cuts miss so much character development."
Rey found herself watching the way his hands moved as he talked, the passion in his voice as he described his favourite scenes. How had she never noticed the dimples that appeared when he really smiled? Or the way his hair fell across his forehead when he ducked his head, slightly embarrassed by his own enthusiasm?
The weeks that followed were... different. Having Ben back in class, sitting next to her again, felt right in a way that made her chest tight. She caught herself smiling at him more than strictly necessary, looking forward to their shared classes in a way that had nothing to do with the actual coursework.
Sometimes during lectures, her eyes would drift to her left, drawn to his profile like a magnet. She'd watch his brow furrow in concentration as he took notes, or the way he'd absently chew on his bottom lip when deep in thought. His hands, she noticed, were always in motion – twirling a pen, running through his hair, drumming quietly on the edge of his desk. And his eyes... those warm brown eyes that sometimes caught hers looking, making her heart skip and her cheeks flush...
"Shit," Rey whispered to herself one day, the realization hitting her like a truck in the middle of their professor's rambling about theoretical frameworks. "Shit, shit, shit."
She was crushing on Ben Solo.
No. No, that couldn't be right. Her brain scrambled for reasons why this was impossible, latching onto the first thing it could find: He hated green! How could she possibly have feelings for someone who hated her favourite colour? It was ridiculous. Absurd.
But then he turned to share an amused look with her over their professor's particularly terrible pun, and her heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. Rey sank lower in her seat, her internal crisis reaching new heights. The green thing felt like an increasingly flimsy excuse, especially when she was starting to think his smile could outshine every shade in her beloved forest.
Her newfound awareness of her feelings changed everything. Where she'd once been quick with witty responses, she now found herself stumbling over words whenever he got too close. During their walks to class together, she'd wring her hands nervously, hyperaware of how their shoulders would sometimes brush.
"The professor's face when the projector died mid-lecture," Ben chuckled one day as they left class. "He looked like he was about to have an existential crisis."
Rey's laugh came out a bit too loud, a bit too eager. "Y-yeah, it was pretty funny." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, sneaking another glance at him.
"You know," Ben said thoughtfully, "you've got these really cute dimples when you laugh for real. Not your polite laugh – the real one."
Rey nearly tripped over her own feet. Her face burned so hot she was sure it matched the red exit sign above the classroom door. "I... um... thanks?" she squeaked, her heart thundering in her chest.
Their text conversations had evolved too. Late at night, curled up in her bed, she'd find herself sending him random thoughts:
Rey [11:43 PM]: do you think pigeons have feelings?
Green Hater [11:44 PM]: it's almost midnight and this is what keeps you up?
Rey [11:44 PM]: don't judge me solo. this is serious business
Green Hater [11:47 PM]: fine. yes, I think they do. but they're probably very stupid feelings
Every time her phone lit up with his name, her stomach did little somersaults. She loved that he always replied, no matter how late or how ridiculous her messages were. Some nights they'd text until one of them (usually Ben) fell asleep mid-conversation.
Rey [1:13 AM]: what if trees are secretly judging us?
Green Hater [1:15 AM]: then I hope they enjoy the show
Green Hater [1:15 AM]: also go to sleep rey
Rey [1:16 AM]: you first :P
She saved their conversations, scrolling through them when she couldn't sleep, analyzing every word and emoji like they were sacred texts. The way he'd use proper punctuation in texts was oddly endearing. How he'd send her random photos of dogs he saw on campus, knowing her weakness for puppies. The rare occasions he'd use an emoji felt like tiny victories.
In class, she'd catch herself doodling his name in the margins of her notes, then hastily scribbling over it when she realized what she was doing. She memorized his coffee order (black, two sugars, like his soul, she'd once teased, but now found hopelessly charming). She noticed how he always wore the same black leather jacket on Thursdays, how he ran his hand through his hair when he was stressed, how his voice got deeper when he was tired.
It was terrible. It was wonderful. It was slowly driving her insane.
"Hey," Rey said one day after class, her heart pounding as she gathered her courage. "Want to go catch that new Deadpool movie this weekend?"
"Oh," Ben shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting her eyes. "I actually already have plans to see it."
"Oh." The single syllable felt heavy in her mouth. "That's cool."
"Yeah, someone asked me last week."
"Someone?" Rey's stomach twisted. "Who?"
"A girl from my Literature class."
Something ugly and bitter rose in Rey's throat. Before she could stop herself, she let out a forced laugh. "Wow, someone actually asked you out? That's... surprising."
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she'd made a terrible mistake. Ben's expression went completely blank, his eyes turning cold in a way she hadn't seen since before their truce.
"Gee, thanks," he said, voice flat. "Didn't know I was that ugly." He stood up, shoving his books into his bag with sharp, angry movements.
"Wait, Ben, I was just teasing!" Rey scrambled to her feet, panic rising in her chest. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. "I didn't mean—"
"Whatever, Rey." He cut her off, already walking away. His shoulders were rigid, hands clenched at his sides.
"Ben!" she called after him, but he didn't turn around.
"Shit," Rey whispered, sinking back into her chair. She'd done it again – let her mouth run ahead of her brain and hurt him. Only this time it wasn't because she was trying to be antagonistic. It was because the thought of him going to the movies with another girl made her feel like she was going to be sick.
The worst part? She had no right to feel this way. She'd spent months pushing him away, and now that someone else wanted to get closer, she was acting like a jealous idiot. And in the process, she might have just ruined everything.
That night, Rey lay in bed staring at her phone screen, typing and deleting message after message.
Sorry I was such a jerk? Deleted.
I didn't mean it like that... Deleted.
I miss you. Definitely deleted.
Finally, at 10:47 PM, she settled on what she hoped was a casual olive branch:
Rey [10:47 PM]: How was the movie?
She held her breath, watching those three dots that usually appeared almost immediately whenever she texted him. But this time, nothing happened. Her screen remained stubbornly dark.
11:15 PM. Still nothing.
11:43 PM. She checked her message hadn't somehow failed to send. No, it was there. Just unanswered.
By midnight, Rey's eyes were burning from staring at her phone. She finally forced herself to plug it in and try to sleep, though her dreams were restless and filled with the image of Ben's hurt expression.
The first thing she did upon waking was grab her phone. Her heart sank as she saw the message status: Read 3:24 AM.
No reply.
"Maybe he just hates me now," she whispered to her empty room, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. The idea that she might have permanently destroyed whatever had been growing between them made her chest ache in a way she wasn't prepared for.