Solo
it's me! hi! i'm the problem, it's me
- Joined
- Apr 8, 2019
Ben should know better than to think that would be the end of it. When she redirects the conversation to something he's more comfortable with—and he never thought he would describe calculus as a more comfortable anything, but it's definitely preferred to discussing his trainwreck of a family—he actually makes an effort to grasp the material. He'd been at least somewhat trying since the beginning of their tutoring, but as he's grown to know her, he's found himself trying a lot harder, as though becoming good with the material will somehow mean he's become good with her. It's a strange language, a strange way to try to impress her, but even if he doesn't really care what grade he gets in the class as long as he passes, it seems like she does, and that's enough to spur him on.
They fall into their comfortable brand of silence, one Ben's grown to love—it isn't the oppressive silence between him and his mentor, with Ben scrambling to try and figure out what he's done wrong, or the tense silence that hangs over family gatherings, like it was just waiting for someone to say something so it can explode into a cacophony of voices. It's nice, and it's comfortable, and of course, that meant it couldn't last.
She breaks the silence, recounting her ridiculous ideas of what they'd done over break. The thought of any of those things happening in the Solo household was silly, though he supposed he couldn't rule out the possibility of an estranged sibling showing up. It wasn't like they had ever paid much attention to the child they did have, and with Han gone more than he was home, it wouldn't be the craziest thing in the world to find out he'd drunkenly fathered another kid he didn't take care of.
"Well, at least it wasn't that bad," he mumbles. The examples she'd given made the real events look tamer in comparison, and he is almost embarrassed that he doesn't have as eventful a story to tell her as the ones she'd dreamed up. "Just a lot of fighting. Let's just say my parents don't exactly approve of my choices in education and in my future." It's a simplified, almost political answer, and one that he doubts will satisfy her curiosity, so he sighs and shuts his book loudly, leaning back in the chair with his arms folded across his chest.
"I know you—what was it you said?—don't pay attention to gossip or whatever, but there's no way you go here and don't know the name Organa. There's a whole wing named after her, and there's a reason for it: she funded it herself. My uncle? Luke Skywalker, yeah, that one. And my dad? Well, your guess is as good as mine who Han Solo is. Not like I've seen him enough to form an opinion." Bitterness laced his tone, the venom evident with every word. "And I'm the black sheep, the family disappointment for wanting to make a name on my own rather than rely on fucking hand-outs."