Chapter Text
Ben Solo stomps into his apartment, slamming the door hard enough that when the frame rattles it almost shakes him out of his rage. Almost .
Once he’s sure he hasn't broken another damn thing in this apartment, he tosses his coat onto the rack, dropping his keys onto the end table. Carefully, he peels off his shoes, setting them neatly next to the door. Just because he’s in the midst of a tantrum doesn’t mean he can’t keep things tidy.
Stalking into the living area, Ben flops onto the large sectional trying to calm his breathing using techniques that his therapist taught him. It’s been nearly 20 years since he’d seen said therapist but the exercise helps him just as well now as it had when he’d been a gangly, awkward boy full of violent rage and insecurities.
Maybe I should go back to therapy , Ben muses to himself, loosening his tie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt to ease the tightness he feels in his chest. After days like this, it certainly seems prudent to see some sort of professional. His job was stressful, sure, but it was his boss that really pushed him into homicidal territory.
Ben had been with Snoke & Palpatine since he finished law school nearly 10 years ago. At first, he loved his job. He loved the work and negotiating for his clients, he loved the expectations because it showed that someone believed he could be more than what he was, he even loved the office atmosphere, especially how nobody gave a shit about each other. They came in each day, did their work, and left.
But as Ben worked his way up in the firm, the clients began to annoy, and then anger, him with their privilege and pettiness, his coworkers cutthroat attitude grated on him and the expectations that used to motivate him, suddenly began to weigh heavy, crushing him with their never ending pressure. But he pushed through it all because to make partner, he had no other choice.
But days like this made him question why he was even there. Whether it was worth it or not.
As he lay pondering every minute decision of his life that led him to this day, a resounding crash came from the hallway.
“Shit!”
The voice on the other side of the door was muffled but Ben could make out that there was more than one person squabbling. He would have ignored it but just seconds later, he hears the noise again, closer to his door this time. The voices on the other side of the door grow louder, overlapping with one another to the point where it feels like they’re in Ben’s apartment, standing over him, yelling in his ear.
The voices continue for 10, 20, 30 seconds, growing louder with their laughter. After what has to be nearing 3 minutes, Ben’s resolve snaps.
Any other day he might have ignored it. He might have just stayed on the couch, maybe even put on a pair of headphones or headed to the second bedroom he had converted into a home gym. But with Snoke’s voice still sneering in his ear, telling him that he would never be enough, would never make partner, Ben pushes himself from the couch and towards the door.
Throwing it open, Ben is met with three blank stares.
Two men and a woman stand in the hallway clutching at the edges of a beat up dresser that would look more at home in a dumpster. One of the men, with curly hair and golden skin, is closest to Ben, as he seemed to have been in the process of picking up the side of the dresser that had fallen just outside the door.
“Oh, sorry about the noise.” The voice doesn’t come from the man, whose mouth is pulled tight in a grimace. Instead, the voice he hears is lightly accented and breathy. Ben turns toward it to see the woman, or perhaps girl is more apt, straining beneath the weight of her end of the dresser. Her cheeks are flushed pink, the brown freckles dotting her cheeks standing out darkly in contrast.
“We were just bringing this to my place,” she continues, her lips stretching into a smile. “I’m your new neighbor by the way! I’m apartment 612.”
Ben eyes the trio before him, baring his teeth.
“You are aware that people live in this building, correct?”
The three glanced at each other, their apologetic smiles slipping away as Ben continues to snarl at them.
“Meaning that there is an acceptable time to move heavy objects and–,” Ben checks his watch. “9:45 on a Tuesday night is typically considered an inopportune time to drop a massive dresser in the hallway. Repeatedly."
The third person, a dark-skinned man wearing a brown bomber jacket, who had otherwise been quiet and reserved up until that point, turns toward Ben.
“Listen, man, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to wake you or anything…” The man trails off as Ben’s eyes snap to him, his fists curling at his side. Just as he’s about to berate the group before him, unleashing his anger for Snoke at these three strangers, the girl straightens, her eyes narrowing at Ben.
“I’m sorry about the noise but there’s no need to be a dick about it,” she huffs, shifting under the weight of the dresser. “I had class tonight and couldn’t get my larger pieces moved until now. Next time I’ll make sure my schedule aligns perfectly with yours so that it won’t be a nuisance."
“See that you do,” Ben snaps back. He can feel the tips of ears reddening with his anger. He knows it’s a petty fight to pick, but he can’t take his anger out on the people who deserve it and if he wants his security deposit back he can’t keep taking it out on his apartment.
After a few seconds of tense silence and glaring between Ben and the girl, the group adjusts their grip so they can haul the dresser the remaining few feet to the door next to Ben, stopping only so that the girl can pull out the key for them to enter. Before they could make it through the doorway, Ben opens his mouth again, almost against his own volition.
“And I better not hear you hammering pictures into the wall all night or I’ll file a noise complaint!”
He hears a scoff before the door slams shut, leaving Ben in the hallway alone. Cursing to himself, he returns to his apartment, his bad day already forgotten and replaced with thoughts of his new, extremely obnoxious 20-something neighbor and her loud friends.
With a sinking feeling, Ben realizes that his building didn’t do leases under 12 months which means that he would be trapped next to this college-aged girl and her ridiculous three-bun hairstyle, and her freckled noise, and dimpled cheeks for the foreseeable future.
Fuck.