Give Me Love

chapter eight

The next week passed as painful and slow as the last. Each day dragged on, weighed down by the sleep you weren't getting and the food you still had trouble eating.

You were getting better with the food part— slowly, your appetite was returning— but your ability to sleep soundly through the night was still a fantasy.

Honestly, every night was a gamble. You would either return home from work, fall into bed, pass out for a few hours before being awoken by a nightmare or a noise, and then be unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

Or, you would take a handful of sleeping pills if you felt really compelled to make it through the night, yet somehow still end up tossing and turning for hours afterward. The added downside to that was that you felt sick to your stomach in the morning, which didn't help your appetite.

Or, finally and most often, you would simply just not sleep. Your earbuds would be plugged in, music blasting, hoodie pulled up over your head. The lights could be off and you could be bone-tired, but your body just refused to shut off. The amount of times you'd watched the silhouette of the sun come up on the same part of the wall you had watched it set was far too many to be healthy.

As a healthcare worker, you knew how bad it was that you weren't sleeping more than three hours a night. Still, your insomnia could not be cured no matter what you tried. You were really thinking about just getting a therapist at this point.

At the end of the week, you had your field-medic test, and passed with flying colors despite your lack of energy. You cried the whole way home, clutching the certificate in your hands and watching the ink letters smear as you thought about how your friends always talked about the big celebration they were going to throw when you finally passed.

But now, you were alone and framing the certificate up on the wall with shaking hands. You looked at it all big and fancy with your name on it, wondering why you didn't feel proud or accomplished of yourself. This is all you had ever wanted, everything you had worked for since arriving here on Coruscant a year ago. It's what you had dreamed of doing as a child— what you left Noxella for.

Why was it that the only thing you could do was cry?

The shrill ringing of your doorbell made you jump ten feet into the air. You furiously scrubbed at your cheeks, erasing any sign that you might have been crying before opening the door.

It was Anakin.

He was wearing his uniform, hair messy from the wind outside, without a robe of course. In his hands was a cupcake with pink frosting and sprinkles, and even a little sparkler that was slowly fizzing out.

"I heard you passed your field-certifications," he grinned.

You were frozen in place, staring at him and the cupcake he was holding up for you. His eyes were soft, smile wide. Those stubborn tears pricked at your eyes again, your bottom lip beginning to quiver. His face dropped.

"What's wrong?"

"I—" you took a deep breath, not knowing how to explain that nothing was wrong, not anymore really, and that the tears were due to how stupidly sweet this was of him. "Nothing," you shook your head, taking the cupcake from him and smiling at it. "Thank you."

You invited him in, setting the cupcake on a dish in the kitchen for later, not really having the heart to tell him you didn't think you could eat it. He crossed his arms and stood before the framed certificate, head tilted to look at it up on the wall.

"Now how'd you get that all the way up there? I know you didn't do it yourself."

"I have a step-stool," you rolled your eyes. He smiled to himself, looking at it for a second longer before uncrossing his arms and reaching into one of his belt pockets.