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tenderjock · 2 days

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in the middle before I knew that I had begun; [not a happy codywan ficlet]

In the Jedi teaching, attachment is forbidden. Love is – a separate issue, obviously, as love can take many forms. When Cody and I were – what I mean is, I was –

You realized that you were in love with him and panicked.

: :

Obi-Wan is finishing the dregs of his second Daruvvian champagne cocktail when Breha inhales, sharp.

“Hmm?” he turns to her. His head is pleasantly fuzzy, but he’s far from nonfunctional. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reassure him. There’s something strained around her eyes. He turns to see what she had been looking at, and she puts an insistent hand on his arm. “No, Obi-Wan –”

He doesn’t immediately see whatever caused Breha such stress; instead, Obi-Wan’s eyes go to Cody, sharply dressed in his greys across the ballroom. He’s talking to the Ghayyn’i ambassador, a handsome man with wide green eyes. The ambassador is tall enough that Cody has to look up to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to comment, rather snarkily, on that fact, when the ambassador brushes gentle, sensual fingers across Cody’s chest.

Obi-Wan waits for Cody to move away. He doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a little knowing quirk of the lips.

“Oh,” he says, feeling rather as though the wind has been knocked out of him. “Oh.” He quickly looks away. Cody is a very private person, and it feels wrong to have seen something so clearly intimate.

“Obi-Wan,” Breha says, and her face is sad. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why it’s sad. Nothing bad has happened. He clears his throat, thinking one of the sweet-pickle cherries in his drink must have caught there. Unbidden, his gaze is drawn back to Cody and the – the ambassador, who is now laughing at something Cody said.

It’s fine. It’s beyond fine – it’s wonderful, that people recognize Cody for the brilliant man that he is, Obi-Wan explains, three cocktails later, eyes closed with his head in Bail’s lap. Bail makes a noncommittal noise.

“People other than his command,” he clarifies. “And his fellow commanders. And, ah. Me.” His voice is very rough on the last word. These sugary drinks are really hell on the throat, he thinks.

“Of course, love,” Breha says soothingly. Her hand cards through his hair. It feels pleasant. Cody does the same, when they’re lying in Obi-Wan’s bunk together after a long day.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, letting them stare unfocused somewhere near the floor. Breha is really wearing the most ridiculous shoes, and he’s thinking he should tell her that when a pair of GAR-issued boots come to a crisp halt just in his line of sight.

“General,” Cody says. Obi-Wan nearly falls out of Bail’s lap in his effort to sit up quickly.

“Commander!” he says, helpless to how warm he sounds. Cody had looked good when they left the ship, all buttoned up in his uniform, but he looks better now. He’s holding his cap in his hand, letting Obi-Wan see his short curls, and the top clasp of his jacket is undone.

Obi-Wan squints. Is that a lovebite on his neck?

Before he can dwell on that, Cody says, “We should get you back to the Temple, sir.”

Obi-Wan considers that. He’s fine where he is, except that when he attempts to lay back down in Bail’s lap, both Bail and Breha push him back up.

“That’s a good idea,” Bail says, firm but kind. How he adores the man. “I can arrange for an air taxi – Commander, are you alright to see him back?” There’s something uncertain in Bail’s voice. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why; it’s Cody. Of course they’ll see each other back.

Cody just looks at him. In this light, his eyes are dark honey.

“I’ll get you home, boss,” he says after a beat. Obi-Wan blinks at him, lips parted. He suddenly feels the alcohol very much, everything loose and golden and a little bit sweaty. Cody’s lips twitch. “C’mon, then.”

Cody manhandles Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan tucks his face into Cody’s shoulder as best he can while also moving his limbs in the direction of the taxi Bail is calling them. Cody, wonderful steady dependable Cody, keeps him going, a hand at his waist and another under his armpit.

“The ambassador,” Obi-Wan manages after a few steps. Cody hums.

“He had to leave,” Cody says. “There was an afterparty. He asked –” he cuts himself off, then continues: “I’d rather stay here, honestly.”

Obi-Wan nuzzles the starched fabric of his shirt. Wonderful man, he thinks.

The taxi ride lurches unpleasantly. Obi-Wan is distracted by the task of not spewing the contents of his stomach all over his commander. They get to the Temple without incident, and make it to Obi-Wan’s rooms with no one other than Yoda – who cackles – seeing them.

Cody puts Obi-Wan down in his bed. Obi-Wan tugs him in after.

He catches himself above Obi-Wan, arms bracketing Obi-Wan’s head. Cody huffs a bit of laughter and dips down to brush a kiss over his forehead. Obi-Wan cranes up, chasing his lips.

“Not now, sir,” Cody says, chiding. He kneels at the side of the bed to take off Obi-Wan’s boots. When he’s done, he leans back up, brushing the hair out of Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan beams at him, feeling unbearably fond. His Cody. His darling. Always looking after him.

Cody’s face is very still, just a few inches above his. Obi-Wan reaches out, touches his scar.

“What are you thinking?” he wonders. Cody shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead again. “Get some rest, General.”

Obi-Wan exhales, eyes fluttering closed. He tracks Cody’s movement, straightening his jacket, turning the lights off, slipping out the door. His familiar Force presence is warm sunlight and hot caf, thrilling and comfortable in equal measure.

As the door clicks closed, Obi-Wan murmurs sleepily to himself, “Love you, my darling.”

: :

When he wakes up, head pounding and mouth dry, Obi-Wan remembers what he said. He’s the only one that heard it; it would have been easier to forget.

This complicates things.

Somehow, they go a fortnight, ending their leave and starting a mission, without Obi-Wan saying anything. He’s just – waiting for the right moment, a moment when they aren’t dogged by war and flimsiwork, when he can talk to Cody calmly and reasonably.

Or does he even need to talk to Cody? He was drunk. Everyone says things they don’t mean when they’re drunk. Teenage drunken Anakin once told Obi-Wan he wished he had been born a jellysquash, as they have no feelings and don’t know enough to care.

Cody is leading a squad on Im-Onh-Augulu’s surface when comms cut out. It’s a tense three-quarter hour before they reestablish communications.

“Arrow squad to Vigilance,” Corporal Hart is saying. “Vigilance, do you copy?”

“Copy,” Gregor says, shooting Obi-Wan a look. Cody should be the one contacting them and they both very well know it. “Arrow, sitrep, over.”

“Is General Kenobi there, Captain?” the corporal says. “Over.”

Obi-Wan’s heart is in his throat. “I’m listening, Hart, over,” he says. Under the sleeves of his robes, he’s clenching his wrists hard enough to bruise.

“They captured the commander, sir,” Hart says, desperately blunt. “When they recognized him, they took him and left the rest of us. Said they’re going to use him for negotiations. Over.”

Gregor looks at him. Appalment-sympathy-secondhand-embarrassment-stress is radiating off not just him, but also every clone trooper and officer on the bridge.

Use him for negotiations. Because Cody was a Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. Because he was Obi-Wan’s right hand man. Because Obi-Wan loved him, dearly, and would do near about anything to get him back, a fact which was apparently obvious to everyone except for him.

“Understood,” Obi-Wan says, feeling like his mouth is very far away from his body. “Regroup at the drop point; we’ll be sending a secondary team to that location for extraction.” He’s quiet for a second, nails biting into skin. “May the Force be with you. Over.”

: :

Obi-Wan is the one leading the extraction team, and Obi-Wan is the one to find Cody. He’s in bad shape.

“Didn’t –” Cody slurs out. His eyes can’t seem to focus. “Didn’t tell – ah – them kriff, sir.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, heart pounding in his chest. At his commander – at Cody, telling him that he didn’t fucking talk, when he was being fucking tortured because of Obi-Wan –

“I know,” he says, finally, blinking. He touches the pads of his fingers to Cody’s left eye. “I know you didn’t.” Obi-Wan leaves off the my dear at the end of that sentence, because it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He slings an arm around Cody and hauls him to his feet, instead. “Right this way, Commander.”

Not just his commander. The man he loves.

That thought beats around Obi-Wan’s head for almost a day before he can reconcile it with the heavy feeling in his gut. The man he loves. And he doesn’t – he can’t – it doesn’t mean –

His chest hurts.

Cody doesn’t –

It can’t be so kriffing serious that he can’t think the words. It’s not. It’s not –

Cody doesn’t love him. How could he? How could his beautiful, brave, resilient, kind Commander Cody, who isn’t really his at all – how could he love Obi-Wan? And if he did – if he had some incredible lapse in judgement that allowed him to – to – Cody would have said something, his brutally levelheaded Cody who wasn’t afraid of anything, let alone Obi-Wan and his feelings –

So, no. Cody didn’t love him. That shouldn’t make Obi-Wan feel like his ribcage was being split in two.

And if Cody doesn’t love him, then that means it isn’t wrong for Obi-Wan to – kiss him, soft and warm, and press his cold nose to the back of Cody’s neck, and hold him, and –

It can’t be wrong, can it? It can’t be wrong. It hurts no one. He knows possession is against the Jedi code, but this isn’t possession, because Cody isn’t his, and Cody doesn’t love him, and –

Obi-Wan feels ill.

Cody remains in bacta for three days. Obi-Wan finishes his flimsiwork, then finishes Cody’s flimsiwork, then works on some of Gregor’s flimsiwork. He arranges the battle plans for their next two attacks. He oversees the writing of some new training protocols, something about not letting shinies have access to oxygen tanks. He scrubs his quarters, stem to stern, twice.

Eventually, Cody wakes up. And like a flutterbug drawn to flame, Obi-Wan goes to him.

: :

“We need to stop,” Obi-Wan says. He’s not looking at Cody. It’s the day after the commander’s been released by the medics, and he came to Obi-Wan’s quarters to get the datapads Obi-Wan had borrowed when he was doing all the flimsiwork he could get his hands on.

“… Stop?” Cody asks. His brow is furrowed. Obi-Wan aches to smooth it out.

“This,” Obi-Wan starts, and stumbles. “Our – us. What we have. We need to stop.”

He expects Cody to argue. He expects Cody to demand an explanation. He doesn’t expect Cody to take a slow, deep breath and say, “Of course, sir. If you think it’s best.”

Obi-Wan feels like his chest has caved in. He can’t speak.

“Anything else, sir?” Cody asks. Obi-Wan shakes his head, blinking hard.

Cody stands there at parade rest for a long moment before Obi-Wan realizes he’s waiting for a dismissal. He clears his throat. “Ah, no, Commander. That’s all.”

Cody salutes crisply – salutes – and about-faces to the door. When it clicks shut behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a single hideous, strangled sob. He buries his face in his hands.

Well. At least it looks like they won’t have to dance around each other awkwardly for much longer, he thinks to himself. The war looks to be over soon. Obi-Wan sniffs, straightens himself up, and pulls up the plans for the invasion of Utapau.

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #star wars #the clone wars #this is technically kind of canon compliant! its also my personal headcanon for their relationship plotline #Friends With Benefits only theyre actually in love and one half realizes several years before the other.#and this story is told from the perspective of the half that didnt realize it until it was too late and then he panicked.#the working title for this was ''certified dumbass obi-wan'' but it could have just as easily have been ''useless bisexual obi-wan''#may the force be with you #myfic #also because obi-wan lowkey thinks he's the center of the galaxy he's gonna think that part of the fallout of o66 #was due to the fact that he broke up with his steady lay-slash-love of his life

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

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Back To You

➪the one where anakin is slipping away and needs you more than ever.

Part 1 | HAPPY MAY THE 4TH (had to get this out for today)

Warnings: self deprecating thoughts once again, anakin on the verge of turning evil, angst, fluff, insecurities, mentions of insecurities, mentions of death, urges to kill

Word Count: 4.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Your reflection stared back at you, your own eyes looking at you with pity.

Poor, lonely Y/n.

With tense shoulders, you shudder out a deep breath and avert your eyes to the marble of the countertop.

You hated when your thoughts ran around in your head like this. It didn’t happen often, no, not anymore. You weren’t a teen anymore, you had no excuse to feel like this, yet you just couldn’t help yourself.

Taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, you miss the way Anakin appears in the doorway, his brows furrowed and his shoulders tense, matching yours. “Y/n,” it was as if he knew what was happening, felt the way your own body was attacking itself with a sense of hatred and burden.

You look back up and meet his eyes in the mirror, a small whine of embarrassment leaving you. “I wish you wouldn’t see me like this,”

Anakin hadn’t seen you act this way in many months, not since you were on the verge of becoming an adult. Your shoulders shaking beyond your control, the crease in your forehead, the quiver in your voice. He hated all of it.

“Wish all you want,” he said as he stepped into the room. “I still see you.”

Crossing the short distance, Anakin stands behind you, his height towering over yours as you look at each other in the mirror. “You want to know what I see?” You quietly ask him and he stays silent, his eyes giving you a look of warning that told you all you needed to know. No, if you see anything negative about yourself and voice it to him, he doesn’t want to know what you see. You say it anyway. “I see someone unworthy of love, of being cherished. I don’t see a powerful warrior like I’ve been told I am. I’m nothing.”

Ankin places his hands on your waist, his grip firm as he stares you down in the reflection. “That is not true and you know it,” his voice was stern and left no room for arguments.

But you were far too stubborn for your own good, a trait Anakin saw in himself and one of the many reasons he fell for you in the first place. “But it is true, Ani,” you protested, looking at yourself with a hint of embarrassment and disgust. “Look at me.”

“I am,” his voice was the most serious you had ever heard it, something that makes you promptly stop talking. You weren’t intimated, no, Anakin would never put you in a situation in which he held his power and strength over you, but you were, however, intrigued. So much so you waited for him to continue, a ghost of a frown painted on your lips. “You are so much more than that. Your mind may betray you, but it doesn’t mean it’s right. You are strong and more powerful than you even know. One day you will save this galaxy, and you don’t even know it yet.”

Your lip quivers and you repress showing the chill that runs down your spine. “What if I don’t believe that?”

“You will,” he affirms. His arms wrap around your middle and he leans down so his chin is hovering over your shoulder. You rest your arms over his as you hold eye contact, your sight slightly blurred. “And until that time comes, I’ll be here to remind you just how powerful you are.”

One by one, all the happy memories Anakin had with you faded into nothing, his heart cracking each time he felt a part of him slip away.

His body nearly gave up on itself as he stumbled his way through the temple. One of his hands shot out to catch himself, his palm pressing flat against the wall as he steadied his footing. “Get it together, Anakin,” he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath in hopes to relieve some of the pressure he felt was weighing him down.

It was then when Obi-Wan rounded the corner and saw his padawan struggling to keep himself up right. He was at his side in seconds, his hand wrapping around the younger man’s arm and pulling him into a standing position. “Anakin,” he said, worry lacing his words. “Are you alright?”

Anakin gave him a slow nod, his dull eyes focused on the stone of the floor. He thinks back to his last conversation with you, a full three weeks ago, and his eyes abruptly shut, your words repeating in his head before leaving his own mouth. “I fear I’ve fallen ill,”

Obi-Wan gives him a concerned look, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy,” he says, noticing the way Anakin refused to show him his eyes and the way his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “Relax, Anakin. You’re needed for the mission of protecting Senator Padmè and we can’t have you falling weak a few days before you’re set to leave.”

Anakin felt his ears begin to burn at the mention of Padmè, his jaw locking tightly as he lifted his head. He still refused to meet the eyes of his good friend, his shoulder raising quickly and making Obi-Wan’s hand fall off it. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered before walking forward and leaving the older man behind with a worried look.

His strides were quick, his chest heavy with a rage he had never felt before as he opened the door to his room with a rough shove.

Protecting Padmè? The woman he had not spoken to since the night you left him? Putting his life on the line for the person who was the reason he hadn’t been happy in weeks? The one who helped him destroy the best thing in his life?

Not a chance.

Anakin’s shoulders tensed up as the door slammed shut behind him, his eyes flickering all over the near-empty room.

He wasn’t as in control as he thought he was, and that much was obvious when he turned the entire place upside down a mere ten minutes after you walked out the door.

He couldn’t help it, everything reminded him of you.

The thought of staying in this room that had always meant to shield you from the harsh reality by himself was one that kept him up at night. The dark circles that had formed under his eyes the day after you left him had become a seemingly permanent addition to his appearance.

He almost didn’t recognise himself when he first noticed the deep and dark marks that shadowed his face. He assumed they’re from the lack of sleep he was getting, or not getting.

He couldn’t sleep without you. He found that out pretty quickly.

After he had finished destroying every piece of furniture in the communal area of the room, he felt his bones ache with exhaustion. His eyes were burning and his hand was sore from throwing anything it could grab a hold of. Yet, as he made his way to the bed, the same one he had been holding you on - if only for a couple of seconds that he wished he could have back - only minutes prior, he discovered that he couldn’t fall asleep.

His mind wouldn’t turn off, past memories with you flashing behind his eyes at a rapid pace. As he tried to get his body to relax and succumb to the darkness, he had no control over the way his hand twitched in the direction in which you always were, right beside him. Your side of the bed was cold, yet another thing he wasn’t used to as you were always there, for him to hold, for him to hide with.

Now, three weeks later, and he is no better. He had gotten about five hours of sleep in total during the time he spent away from you, and it wasn’t something he had a say in.

He wasn’t able to sleep in the bed, that much was obvious after his first failed attempt. After he rummaged through the dresser and grabbed onto one of your robes, he held onto the fabric with both hands. His face buried in it as he fell to the floor, his back pressed to the end of the bed.

He fell asleep a few minutes after that, a death grip on your robe - one of the few things he had left of you. When he awoke half an hour later, he was met with the still dark sky and a pain in his lower back.

It didn’t take him long to start tearing apart that dresser.

The few times he fell asleep after that were at random.

While waiting for Obi-Wan to show up for a day of training, Anakin had fallen asleep against the wall of the meditation room. He was woken up an hour later by another Jedi who looked at him with concern and a bit of pity, something Anakin loathed.

His sleep schedule consisted of quick naps in the most bizarre places, one being behind the wheel of his ship - that one nearly ended in a fatality for both him and Obi-Wan. Seeing as he was supposed to be the best pilot in all the galaxy, Anakin took Obi-Wan’s lecture without trying to defend himself as he didn’t even know what was wrong with him.

His sleep state wasn’t even a safe space. He had one dream about you, one where you came back and you held him and kissed him and told him everything he needed and had been desperate to hear.

The rest were nightmares. Or nothing at all. A void.

Anakin felt like a ghost, a shell of who he used to be.

He wasn’t happy, wasn’t consumed with excitement whenever he was set to fly, wasn’t filled with a sense of pride whenever he successfully completed a quick mission.

He felt like his body was betraying him, and the fact that he hadn’t seen even a glimpse of you since you left didn’t help at all.

The temple was big, but he didn’t realise it was massive enough to keep you hidden from him for three weeks.

Three weeks.

Nearly four without you.

Anakin was sure that when the one month mark hit, his body would no longer function at his control. It hardly was now, so he was not looking forward to seeing how he would be in a week from now.

He turns right and enters the bedroom, everything untouched with the exception of the broken dresser beside the door. His eyes narrowed on the bed and he felt, what had to be, the hundredth sharp stab that pierced his heart in the past few weeks.

“I’m nervous,” you nearly whispered, your hands running over Anakin’s bare shoulders. A single candle was lit and placed on the nightstand a couple feet from where his body hovered over yours on the bed. The flicker of orange made him look so innocent, so young and carefree, a sight you quickly decided was a blessing to see. “Will it hurt?”

Anakin leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead, his arms tightening around your frame. “Maybe for a bit,” he murmured against your skin. “We don’t have to do this tonight. I don’t want you to feel rushed.”

You shake your head, your nose brushing against his as you did so. “I want to do this, I promise,” your words are quiet and the only sound that fills the dark room. It was just you and him, the outside world blocked by a door and the curtains that covered the window. You had never felt more safe. “I need this. We need this.”

It was true.

Anakin would be sent away the following morning on what would be his longest absence yet. While you had grown used to his day long missions, this one was said to be no less than a couple weeks. He had never spent that long away from you and he wasn’t coping that well with the thought of leaving you behind.

The decision to do this tonight was mutual.

He needed something to hold onto until he returned to you, and you needed the feeling of being completely loved and wanted to get you through the weeks you’d spend without him.

Anakin nodded, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss before reaching over and taking your hand in his. “Only for a bit,” he said again before the distance was closed once more.

Anakin felt the last good memory slip away from him and his eyes darkened, an ache in his jaw as he clenched it again.

He was going to do the mission; the one where they would be counting on him to keep Padmè out of harm’s way and protect her with his life.

However, what they didn’t know was that Anakin was now treating this as a form of justice, or, in other words, an assassination.

“Y/n,” Obi-Wan greeted as he entered the meditation room. “I’ve finally found you.”

His smile was kind but told you that he wasn’t here to talk about anything good. You return the smile as best as you could, sitting up straighter and holding eye contact with him. “Master,” you say back, brows furrowing when the smile was replaced with a frown. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

The man nodded, his fingers tugging on the sleeve of his shirt in a way that showed he was nervous but was trying to hide it. “It’s Anakin Skywalker,” he said and you quickly looked away. “Something is troubling him.”

Your eyes focus on the floor as you fight the urge to cry in front of Obi-Wan. It would give away the very real fact that you were well aware of what Anakin was going through, and the fact you were in a forbidden relationship with the Jedi.

Anakin.

You hadn’t heard his name in weeks, cutting off any communication with him and anyone affiliated with him, including the very man standing in front of you. Guilt creeped into you, the same guilt that had plagued you since the moment you left the crying man by himself in the room you no longer felt at home in.

The weeks you spent without the man you loved were brutal.

You had been struck with an overwhelming feeling of guilt and you carried it with you every day. Your heart broke every time you heard the hushed whispers of fellow Jedi about how the supposed ‘Chosen One’ was failing to do the simplest of tasks and had become a weak version of himself. One that didn’t show up to important meetings, didn’t give his all on quick and easy missions, and looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in months.

The one who looked on the verge of falling to the dark side.

You didn’t want to think about that last one, despite the numerous times you’ve heard it be brought up. Never did you ever think Anakin would become the worst version of himself, become a person he was so far from and forget about everything that made him the powerful Jedi he had been for so long now.

There was no way it was because of you and how you left things. How could it? How could you mean so much to someone that they’d forget all they worked for, fought for, bled for, just because you were no longer a constant in their life?

It just didn’t make sense to you, but then again, the fact that you even had a sliver of Anakin Skywalker in the first place didn’t make a whole lot of sense, either.

He was too good for you, too kind and caring and someone who deserved the world. Something you couldn’t give him, no matter how much you wanted to.

You wanted to give him any and everything he asked for and more, but you couldn’t. And you would never be able to.

You couldn’t even give yourself the time of day and dedication needed to progress in your life, so how could you possibly help Anakin in any way?

The question had you looking up and meeting the eyes of Obi-Wan once again. “What does that have to do with you looking for me?”

“If I recall correctly, you and Anakin were quite close not too long ago,” he said and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat and how you wanted to point out just how close the two of you had been. “Is that right?”

You nodded quickly, eyes focusing on the wall behind him. “We were, but not anymore,”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Obi-Wan gave you a look of pity before he continued, “Anakin is a good person, someone who I find myself looking up to. I’m afraid something has happened….something that could lead to his demise.”

That made you stand up, your brows pressing together as you stepped closer. “What do you mean?”

The man hesitated before swallowing harshly. “I’ve been observing him and I’m worried about what I’ve seen so far. He hasn’t been sleeping or focusing. Just this morning I found him against a wall, unable to hold himself up,” he says. “He wouldn’t look me in the eye. I can’t help but fear the worst.”

Your eyes flicker between his. “What are you saying?”

You share a look before he places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m afraid we’re losing him to something he should have never seen or felt,”

“Anakin!” Your hand turned the doorknob before you could even think about knocking first. Stepping into the room, you let out a quiet gasp at the sight of destruction. Not a single thing was how you left it, not even the side of the door that faced the inside of the room. It was dented and beaten in, hints of blood here and there that told you exactly what had happened to the wood.

You stumble your way through the now unfamiliar room and head straight towards the bedroom, where you’re met with a demolished dresser. The rest of the room seemed untouched and you bent down to pick up one of your shirts, fisting the material in your hand. The rest of your clothing was thrown around the floor, some stuck on the corner of the bed that looked like it hadn’t been slept in since you left.

Dropping the shirt, you turn around after coming to the conclusion that the room was empty. You stand outside the door that led to the bathroom, your hand hovering over the doorknob.

He had to be in there, and that thought had your heart beating rapidly.

With a firm twist, your fingers press against the door and push.

Standing in front of the mirror was Anakin, his eyes glossy and staring at his reflection. His shoulders were stiff, his whole body tense in a way that had you swallowing nervously. His hands gripped the marbled countertop tightly, his knuckles turning a few shades lighter as heavy pants left his mouth.

Pushing back a small ounce of uncertainty, you step into the room. He must have been deep in thought as he didn’t notice the door open or your smaller figure enter the room. You were afraid to ask what was going on in that pretty head of his. It had to be something awful to have him this out of it.

“Anakin,” You say his name quietly, almost to the point of it being inaudible.

But he heard you. Whatever daydream he was in was ripped away the second your voice hit his ears. His eyes moved from his own and met yours in the reflection, the crease in his brow softening as a shaky breath left his lips. The feeling of relief was short-lived. “You’re not real,” he muttered, not giving you a second glance as his eyes went back to being stone cold.

It was then when you realised how much you truly meant to the poor boy. You really had no idea that you, of all people, could mean this much to someone, let alone the perfection that is Anakin.

He was so messed up to the point where he didn’t even believe he was actually seeing you.

You felt your heart break all over again. “What have I done to you?” You ask, holding back a dry sob as you take a daring step closer. “Anakin…it’s me.”

He only shook his head, his chin tilting downwards as he muttered something under his breath.

You blink back a tear or two as you cross the room, your hand tugging on his arm. “Look at me,” you nearly cry out, your grip making him turn slightly. His eyes left the mirror and landed on you. The blue orbs softened just a bit and you watched as what seemed to be a million thoughts ran through his head. You reach up and caress the side of his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheekbone as well as the scar that graced his skin. “Look at me.”

The furrow in his brow faded away as his hands left the counter, his body fully turning to face yours. “Y/n,” he whispered, his hand reaching up to wrap around your wrist as he leaned into your touch.

You let out a quiet hum to let him know that was really you and that you were here, with him. “I’m so sorry,” you say quietly, your thumb continuing to stroke his face while his stroked the skin of your wrist.

His eyes were still glossy and his whole being still seemed as if it was far away. Your other hand grasped his shoulder as you stepped closer, trying to think of what to do to get him to fully come back.

A delirious grin formed on his lips as he looked at you, still not believing you were actually there. “I missed you,” he murmured, his eyes flickering all over your face before he began to turn back towards the mirror.

You placed both your hands on his face and pulled him away from whatever trance the mirror held over him. Tugging his head down, you press your forehead against his. “I’m here,” you whisper, reaching one hand down to grab his and place it on your waist. “I’m here and I’m so sorry.”

Anakin furrowed his brows again, his head shaking as his gloved hand tightened its grip on you. “It’s not…you’re not-”

“I am,” you cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as if it’ll help stop the love of your life from turning on everything he had going for him. You weren’t sure what to do at this point. Anakin was in denial, seemingly stuck in a very fragile state and balancing on a very thin edge of becoming something he swore he wouldn’t. A tear slips down your face as you brush your nose against his, an act you’ve done too many times to count. “Please….come back to me.”

Whatever had a hold on his mind seemed to let go as you said the words he had been craving to hear, the same ones you murmured to him in the first and only dream he had about you since you left - the same ones he said to you.

He pulled back just slightly, his eyes staring into yours as his face relaxed for the first time in nearly a month. His lip quivered and his eyes filled with unshed tears, his hand that wasn’t on your waist coming up to grip the back of your neck as he pulled you into him.

You wrapped your arms around him as your face pressed against his chest, a sigh of relief and desperation leaving both of you.

“Angel,” the name falls easily from his lips, his arms tightening around you as if you would disappear at any given second - and he’d be alone again. “You’ve come back to me.”

“I never should have left you,” you say back, your voice muffled due to the sobs you were holding back. “I’m so sorry, Anakin. Please, forgive me.”

His hand slides upwards to cradle the back of your head as he quietly hushes you. “It’s okay, my love,” he says quietly, his mind becoming foggy at the fact that he had you back in his arms. “You’re okay.” He presses his lips to the side of your head, his hand refraining from pulling you back in when he feels you push against him.

“I’m not,” you shake your head, your hands fisting his shirt. “I haven’t been. I feel so bad, Anakin. I hate that I hurt you. The guilt has been eating me alive, I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.”

Your sweet voice was music to his ears and he brought his hand around to the front of your head, where his thumb brushes away your tears as he quiets you once more. “It’s alright, angel,” he says, pulling you close once again. “We’ve found each other again, there’s nothing to be sorry for. We’re okay.”

Before you could nod in agreement, his lips pressed to yours in a gentle yet firm kiss. The action made his own tears fall as he closed his eyes, begging to anyone listening that you’d still be there when he opened them again. “I love you,” you mumbled when you pulled away, your forehead resting against his cheek. “So much.”

“I love you,” he says in return, holding you close and inhaling the scent that only belonged to you - the scent that made him dizzy. “Take me back.” Let me live again.

You nod quickly, leaning up to kiss him again. “It’s you and me,” you say against his mouth, feeling the way his arms wrapped protectively around your middle.

“You and me,” he agreed, kissing you once again. Forever.

Part 3

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