The Endearment of a Twin-flame || Anakin Skywalker x Reader

36 - Depression, Self-destruction, Anger, and Isolation

Song that I listened to on repeat while I wrote this chapter on top hehe Also if you haven't seen 'crybaby' what are you doing with your life? 😭

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Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 36
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2.4k words

Anakin's POV

There was a chapter in my life when ambition coursed through my veins, a relentless drive to excel in school, all in pursuit of the college of my dreams. This fervor was ignited by my mother, who recognized the spark of potential in me when I was merely eight years old. I would share with her the wild inventions that danced in my imagination, and she, with unwavering belief, urged me to become the finest version of myself.

While most children my age were outside, forging friendships, riding bicycles, or engaging in playful adventures with sticks and stones, I found solace in solitude. I was at home, sketching out what I envisioned to be the next groundbreaking invention. I was blissfully naive, preferring the vibrant world of my imagination over the stark reality that loomed—a reality that often felt like a cruel joke.

The day my mother passed away, reality struck with a brutal force, shattering my dreams alongside her. If she could see me now, I knew she would be filled with disappointment, and I couldn't fault her for it. My grades plummeted, I became entangled with Andres' gang, and ultimately, I found myself behind bars. A part of me felt a twisted relief that she was no longer here to witness my downfall, sparing her the anguish of watching the future we had envisioned together dissolve into a distant memory. I believed my life was beyond redemption, a mere shadow of the aspirations I once held dear.

Then, everything changed when I met (y/n). Suddenly, a future with her shimmered brighter than any dream I had ever dared to imagine.

I hadn't planned on falling for her; initially, I was a self-centered jerk, viewing her as just another face. But the moment she stepped into my home for the first time, something shifted within me, though I stubbornly resisted acknowledging it. The true realization hit me during our playful water fight at the bakery, when laughter filled the air and my heart raced uncontrollably. In that instant, I knew I was falling in love, and the thought of not kissing her felt like a madness I could hardly bear.

I longed to express to her that, despite my initial deceit, I fell so hopelessly in love. Yet, deep down, I understood she would never accept my words, and I held no resentment toward her for that. I had manipulated her, spun webs of lies, and shattered the trust she had so cautiously extended to me.

Now, I found myself once more in the same desolate space I had occupied during my mother's passing. A swirl of depression, self-destruction, anger, and isolation enveloped me.

Perched on the edge of a tranquil pond in an empty park, the only company I had were a few ducks gliding across the water. In my hands lay a small bag, a remnant from Scottie, my former dealer.

The white powder inside remained untouched, a silent testament to my turmoil. I gazed at it, lost in memories of our last moments as friends and the dark path it led me on.

Initially, I hadn't sought out Scottie; I had returned home, where a box awaited me—filled with a tattered bear and flowers, the same ones I had sent to (y/n) earlier that day. After what felt like an eternity of tears, I found myself in this very spot, wrestling with the urge to numb the pain. I knew it would only be a fleeting escape, but my answer had always been to stay high, to keep the hurt at bay.