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It was funny how during summers in Tatooine it could be two o’clock in the morning and still ninety degrees out. Lounging back in the porch swing, Obi-Wan flipped through the book he was reading—a high fantasy novel that took incredible focus to get through. Perhaps not the best choice for an insomniac, but he powered through anyway. It was better than laying in bed watching the shadows dance across his ceiling. In the months after Qui-Gon’s death, he had struggled almost every night to get to sleep. Even years later, he still found himself restless on occasion.
The hole in his chest had stopped growing wider, but it still had not completely healed either. Death did that. It ate away at everything until there was nothing left. Yet, in Tatooine, Obi-Wan had found new ways to live. As well as new people to fill the emptiness that Qui-Gon once filled.
A loud yelp drew Obi-Wan’s attention away from his book. He frowned and glanced up to see a very familiar young man in his globemallow shrub.
“Anakin?” He asked, closing his book. “Are you alright?”
Striding across the yard, Obi-Wan reached out his hand and helped Anakin up. He stumbled and just about toppled over into Obi-Wan’s arms. Wide-eyed, he looked back at the plant.
“Did I kill it? The orange flower thing?” He asked, words slurring just a bit. His face was flushed, and Obi-Wan could smell the alcohol on his breath.
Despite that, Obi-Wan couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at his lips. It was unfair how everything Anakin did recently made him grin like a fool. “It’s called a globemallow and, no, I think it will be just fine. Have you been drinking?”
Anakin whipped his head around and beamed at Obi-Wan, staring back like he was the only thing Anakin could see. “A little. Maybe a little too much? It was Rex’s birthday. He’s a few blocks over.”
Obi-Wan had no idea who Rex was but just nodded. It wasn’t like Anakin could give him a coherent answer. “Come sit down, I’ll get you some water.”
Completely pliant under Obi-Wan’s touch, Anakin happily let him guide him over to the porch swing. When Obi-Wan returned, it was to a rapid fire of compliments about how kind and wonderful he was and how beautiful he was, and how happy Anakin was to see him.
A little embarrassed, Obi-Wan shook his head. As he sat next to Anakin, he was surprised when Anakin scooched closer, practically pressing his whole side against him. He sipped the water half-heartedly, sneaking glances at him every once and a while.
The attention started to make Obi-Wan’s cheeks warm from embarrassment. He had known Anakin for years, yet recently, he couldn’t help the affection he started to feel towards him. Anakin was bright and beautiful and so kind that Obi-Wan couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love. It was silly, and he tried to keep it at bay, not wishing to ruin their friendship. Yet, he still pined, and he knew that he was enjoying the sudden attention far too much.
“Why are you up so late?” Anakin asked.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Anakin set aside the half-empty glass and curled his legs under him as he leaned on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Mom always made me drink tea when I couldn’t sleep,” he said, sounding a little melancholy. “Let’s get you some tea.”
“I’ve tried tea,” Obi-Wan said. His stiff posture started to relax as he shifted and curled his arm around Anakin’s shoulder.
Reaching out, Anakin took Obi-Wan’s other hand and laced their fingers together. “I’ll stay. Then you won’t be lonely.”
Warmth filled Obi-Wan’s chest. He leaned his head against Anakin’s and considered it for a moment. He let himself imagine laying in bed with Anakin curled against him and wrapped in his arms. It would feel good—it would feel safe. Already, Obi-Wan felt more content and sleepy out on the porch together with him. But he couldn’t, he shouldn’t.
“You should go home,” Obi-Wan said quietly. His arm was around Anakin’s shoulders, and he started to run his fingers through Anakin’s hair before he forced himself to stop. “Ahsoka will be worried if she wakes up and you’re gone.”
Anakin shook his head, pressing his face into Obi-Wan’s neck. “I want to stay with you.”
What a sweet temptation. Yet, Obi-Wan stayed firm. “I’ll help you to the door.”
When Anakin raised his head sharply, Obi-Wan had to jerk out of the way to keep him from smacking him in the chin. With the sweetest smile, Anakin shook his head again and leaned in closer and suddenly pressed his lips against Obi-Wan’s.
Frozen in surprise, Obi-Wan didn’t react at first, but then Anakin deepened the kiss and curled his fingers into his hair, and Obi-Wan felt his eyes shutting and desire burning in his chest. He kissed back until he tasted the alcohol on Anakin’s tongue, and then he forced himself to pull away.
“Anakin, we can’t.”
Looking like a puppy that had been kicked, Anakin stared back at him with a frown. “Why?”
There were hundreds of reasons, and half of them started with, “I am sixteen years older than you, ” but Obi-Wan chose to say, “You’re drunk.”
“So? I kiss lots of people drunk.”
A cruel mixture of protectiveness and jealousy shot through Obi-Wan. “You shouldn’t,” he said quickly before hiding his anger and softly continuing, “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“You’re not,” Anakin said as he slid his hands down out of Obi-Wan’s hair, along his neck, and finally curled them into his shirt. “I love you.” He tried to kiss him again, and Obi-Wan turned his head away, so Anakin kissed down his neck instead, trailing his lips along his skin. “I’ve loved you forever, Obi-Wan.”
At best, it was the truth, and at worst, it was a sweet lie. Despite the myths of alcohol being the modern-day truth serum, Obi-Wan knew better. He couldn’t believe a word Anakin said—no matter how badly he wanted to. Yet, it was so hard to resist. He kept his hands on Anakin’s shoulders and gently pushed him back again.
“If so, I would like to hear it when you’re sober,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice steady.
A slight smirk crossed Anakin’s face, and he leaned in to kiss Obi-Wan again. “I’ll tell you again in the morning,” he mumbled as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck, and it just about broke his determination.
Obi-Wan’s mind raced. In the morning, he needed to go to work since he promised to help with the job fair. Including setup and takedown, it would take up most of the day. “Dinner,” he said quietly. “If you still feel the same in the morning, then come have dinner with me at Crystal Moon.”
Anakin grumbled something under his breath, but Obi-Wan didn’t quite catch it. His breath caught in his chest as Anakin threaded their fingers together again and brought Obi-Wan’s hand up to kiss his wrist.
“At six,” Obi-Wan said, unable to rip his gaze from Anakin. He licked his lips and continued shakily, “Meet me at Crystal Moon.”
Pressing his lips firmly to Obi-Wan’s neck again, Anakin said, “But I want you now. I’ve already waited so long.”
“And you can wait another sixteen hours,” Obi-Wan said as he stood and gently tugged Anakin up to his feet. “I need you to, please, dear one.”
At the endearment, Anakin’s face lit up again. “Okay,” he said, curling his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist. “Crystal Moon. Six.”
“Only if you still feel the same when you wake up.”
Stifling a laugh, Anakin shook his head. He leaned their foreheads together, blue eyes shining so bright in the dark of the late night. “I will,” he said and leaned in again, just briefly pressing his lips to Obi-Wan’s. “I always will.”
After helping Anakin back to his front door and hoping he would be fine from there because Obi-Wan knew his resolve would fail if he stepped inside, Obi-Wan forced himself to go to bed. Yet all he could do was stare up at the ceiling and hope. His thoughts ran wild as he considered that perhaps it was real. Maybe Anakin truly did love him. It wasn’t just because he was the nearest warm body and Anakin was horribly drunk.
That hope followed Obi-Wan all throughout the next day. He could hardly focus as all of his thoughts were consumed by the previous night. The way Anakin spilled out compliments and kissed him and held him like he was the most important person in the world. How Anakin insisted that he loved him. It had to be real, and part of Obi-Wan regretted not giving into Anakin’s insistence that he come inside. Though part of him knew that he also feared the reality of it all being a fantasy. That he might have woken up to an apologetic and embarrassed Anakin. That thought made Obi-Wan’s stomach twist into knots.
The job fair finished earlier than Obi-Wan expected, and he found himself at the doors of Crystal Moon promptly at five-thirty. He could have gone home first, but then there would have been an odd wait about time, and Obi-Wan would rather just be there early. With a deep breath, he walked inside. The little bell by the door dinged, and Obi-Wan took a second to scan the tables for Anakin. The likelihood of him being on time, let alone early, was low, so Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised when he didn’t see him.
“Hi, Mr. Kenobi,” the waitress, Aalya, said as he walked in. She was a sweet girl who had grown up in Ryloth and was in one of his literature classes. That evening she had her dark blue hair tied up in two loose braids. “Are you picking up an order?”
“I’m meeting someone,” Obi-Wan said. “But I’m afraid I’m rather early.”
Curiosity crossed Aalya’s face, but she didn’t press. “Of course, follow me.”
There was a table near the back that still had a good view of the front door, allowing both privacy and a way for Obi-Wan to wave Anakin down when he arrived. Aalya set the two menus down, and Obi-Wan stared at the empty spot across from him. His heart rose into his throat. It was really happening. He never thought that Anakin could ever return his feelings. Anakin was so young, so beautiful. He had his whole life ahead of him, and Obi-Wan couldn’t possibly imagine what he saw in him.
“I love you. I’ve loved you forever, Obi-Wan. ”
Trying not to smile like a giddy teenager, Obi-Wan fiddled with his tie. Having come straight from the college, he was still in a suit, which was a bit dressed up for Crystal Moon. It was a nice restaurant, but not an evening wear sort of establishment. Still, Obi-Wan left the jacket and tie on.
“Here’s some water,” Aalya said, reappearing at Obi-Wan’s side. “Do you want anything else to snack on or something else to drink?”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’ll wait.”
With another little grin, Aalya nodded, and then she was off, attending to the other tables. Obi-Wan watched her go and glanced around. The restaurant was moderately full, and a low hum of conversation filled the room. Flipping through the menu, Obi-Wan tried his best not to watch the door, but the minute the seconds ticked by into six o’clock, he couldn’t resist any longer.
Every time the bell rang, Obi-Wan peeked out of the corner of his eye to see if it was Anakin. As six-thirty came and passed, he started to feel dread creep along his skin. Anakin is hardly ever on time, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Or maybe he got caught up in something?
Around every fifteen minutes, Aalya stopped by and asked if Obi-Wan needed anything else, never questioning how much longer he would be waiting for Anakin. But by the time seven o’clock rolled around, she started to look concerned.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get anything to eat?” She asked.
“I’ll wait,” Obi-Wan said again with a forced smile. “I’m sure he’s just running a little late.”
Besides, Obi-Wan was far too nauseous to eat anything anyway.
Time continued to tick by.
At seven-thirty, Obi-Wan pulled off his tie and suit jacket and tossed them aside. It was starting to get stuffy, and it might have been his imagination, but he was having a hard time breathing.
At eight o’clock, Obi-Wan stopped looking at the door every time the bell rang. The restaurant was empty enough that Anakin would see him. There was no need to get his hope up. Especially when it was starting to crash to the ground.
At nine o’clock, Obi-Wan leaned on one hand and idly flipped through the menu again. But he wasn’t hungry. He felt stupid and sick. Aalya had stopped coming by the table except to silently refill his water.
Eventually losing track of time, Obi-Wan laid his head on his arms on the table. He closed his eyes and sucked in deep breaths, trying not to break down crying in such a public area. That was exactly why Obi-Wan knew better than to believe Anakin. He didn’t mean any of it at all. In the end, he was just drunk, and Obi-Wan was the closest warm body. The realization stung, but Obi-Wan supposed it was better to realize it sooner than later.
Soft clicks on the tile floor alerted Obi-Wan to Aalya’s presence. Without raising his head, he quietly said, “I don’t think he’s coming.”
“No, probably not. We closed fifteen minutes ago.”
Embarrassed, Obi-Wan scrambled to sit up. “I’m so sorry, I’ll—” He broke off as he saw Aalya was holding a piece of chocolate mousse cake and two forks.
“A cure for the soul,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him. “The cooks always make sure to save me a piece for after my shift and I wanted to share it with you.”
Touched by her kindness, Obi-Wan just nodded. He took the fork and cut off a small piece. “Thank you, Aalya.”
“It’s his loss,” she said with a shake of her head. “Who does he think he is, standing you up like this? You’re probably the kindest person I’ve ever met, Mr. Kenobi. Who else would wait over four hours for their date?”
In his opinion, that sounded pathetic rather than kind. But Obi-Wan didn’t respond, taking a much larger bite of the cake. The chocolate was so rich that it practically melted on the tongue, yet he couldn’t enjoy it at all. Not when he still remembered the taste of Anakin’s kiss.
“I’m sure half the student population would date you if they could,” Aalya continued. She paused, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “Do I know him? I’ll yell at him if you want.”
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how close Aalya and Anakin were in age, but he was certain that they must have run into each other at least once in their lives. Perhaps she was someone else he kissed when he was drunk. Pushing that bitter thought aside, Obi-Wan shook his head.
“You probably don’t know one another,” he said. “Don’t feel sorry for me, dear. I took a chance on this, and it seems that it wasn’t fated to be.”
When Obi-Wan drove home, he purposefully took the long way to avoid driving directly by the Skywalker home. Though as he walked up to his door, he noticed that the lights were still on. He paused and just barely made out Ahsoka and Anakin’s silhouettes in the living room. Tears pricked at his eyes as he wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind him.
For weeks, Obi-Wan did his best to avoid his neighbors at all costs. He woke early and stayed at work late, only working on his garden at times when he felt certain that Anakin might not be around. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever, but he hoped the pain would fade before they would have to face each other again. Yet, it only seemed to grow worse. More than once, Obi-Wan dreamed of what it had been like to have Anakin in his arms and feel his lips. Sometimes the dreams surpassed the memories, and Obi-Wan’s imagination tortured him with what it would have been like to tangle his hands in Anakin’s hair and feel him close, skin against skin.
The heartache wouldn’t stop.
One evening as Obi-Wan trimmed the globemallow, he heard footsteps and nearly bolted into the house. Instead, he kept his gaze down, focused on the task at hand. Still, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Anakin leaning on the fence.
“I hope I didn’t damage it beyond all repair,” Anakin said with a nervous laugh. “I’m really sorry about that, Obi-Wan.”
“It’s nothing time won’t fix,” Obi-Wan said, and he wasn’t sure if he meant himself or the plant.
With a thoughtful hum, Anakin nodded. He stared down at the ground, swirling his toe in the dirt. “I really made an idiot of myself,” he continued, and it felt like knives to the heart. “Maybe we could just forget about that whole thing?”
And Obi-Wan wanted to scream at him for daring to tease him so. For toying with his heart and ripping it to shreds. Yet, having Anakin Skywalker in his life at all was better than a lifetime without him. So like a poor heartsick fool, Obi-Wan nodded.
With a forced smile, Obi-Wan lifted his head up. He couldn’t meet Anakin’s eyes but still said, “Of course, consider it forgotten.”
Before Anakin could speak again, Ahsoka opened her window and leaned out of it. “Skyguy! Don’t forget to ask if I can borrow a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird for school!”
Anakin rolled his eyes, but before he could ask, Obi-Wan scrambled up to his feet. “I’ll grab it,” he said and hurried inside. With a tremble in his hand, Obi-Wan snatched the book off his bookshelf and returned to hand it to Anakin.
With the passing off of the book, Anakin’s hand briefly brushed Obi-Wan’s, and it was like an electric shock. “Thanks,” Anakin said with the same sweet smile from right before he kissed him, and Obi-Wan couldn’t handle it anymore.
The second that Obi-Wan made it inside, he leaned against the door and clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs. His whole chest shook as he slowly slid down to the floor. Why? He wondered. Why did I fall in love with him? Fate had proved so cold and cruel.
Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think back on a silly fortune-telling experience when he was younger. When the fortune teller had stared down at his hand and then met his expression with a grave expression. She had told him he was meant for a life of infinite sadness, and it appeared that she had been right.
Yet, Obi-Wan knew that he would stay in Tatooine. He would do anything to remain in Anakin’s life, even if it meant mangling his own heart beyond all repair. Over time all feelings faded.
That was what Obi-Wan told himself again and again. Yet, Anakin’s smile and laugh still made his heart ache. He still lingered on every word that Anakin said. And at night, he still dreamed of being with him. The pain of rejection started to fade, but not the love. Obi-Wan’s love for Anakin only ever grew stronger.
So years later, when Ahsoka smiled and asked Obi-Wan to pretend to be her father—to pretend to be Anakin’s husband—he knew that he would say yes. Even though it was fake. Even though Anakin didn’t love him. Because even pretending would be better than nothing at all.