Leaving was the only choice you saw fit. For your benefit and for that of the order, it was hard to take into account just how much it may affect those around you. Especially those who love you.
~~~
First Star Wars Fanfic, tried my best so apologies...
"It's me," he was sure he didn't need to state his name. Your muffled scoff, cut short when he opens the door, made that very known to him.
The room was dim, nothing but natural light cast from the wide-view window. You not being a senate or high-ranking leader, your room was of a studio layout. Lounge seating and bedroom one of the same, the plush pillows were untouched while you sat on the sofa.
"What do you want?" You refuse to look away from the view, the sun setting like a burning flame around the Jedi temple.
"I brought a medical kit," he lets the box clatter a little to prove it.
"Put it on the table and leave,"
"What a lovely way of saying thank you," he does half of was requested. "Let me guess, you used your torn dress to clean your scratches?"
"I'm fine,"
"And I believe you believe you're fine, but the fact of the matter is... you're not," he keeps both hands behind his back while approaching, "so either you properly patch yourself up or I will,"
"Just get out. I mean it this time."
"I'm sure you meant it every other time, but right now is not the time to carry grudges," he uses the force to retrieve the medical kit, "don't even argue with me about that,"
"I wasn't going to," your spite was evident, "okay, maybe a little,"
"Mhm," he sits by your side on the chaise sofa, opening the kit and removing what was needed. "Yes, I will be doing it. Knowing you, you'd press a band-aid to it a call it a day,"
"Is that all you remember about me?" Tilting your face away, you calm your breath at the stinging sensation.
"No... I remember quite a bit," he dismisses with a whisper. "This may hurt," he presses gauze to it, stopping the mild bleeding. "Would've gotten infected, lots of debris left," Obi-Wan mutters in the tense silence.
"You don't have to make small talk," adjusting the pillow from the side and into your arms, you pull away the gauze, "thanks-"
"Y/n," he gives a stern look, "I'm not done," he looks from you to the seat, "it would be more bearable if you made it less awkward,"
"Me?? Sorry, Mr 'I remember quite a bit', I don't think I'm to blame here," you snark at him.
"Mhm," his knowing hum brought a smile to your face. The first he caused in a long time.
"You look a lot different with the beard," the small quip made him do a double-take, "no, not in a bad way," you add on, letting his thumb and index finger gently grasp your chin while he cleaned it.
"I think my lip is clean now," you then grimace at the sudden sharp sting. "It's bleeding again isn't it?"
"It's bleeding again," he sighs, taking a rag and pressing it gently to it.
"It was good as new before you tampered with it,"
He let you hold the rag while he retrieved ice from the small bar, "by good as new you mean full of debris and hardly in any state to heal? Then yes, it was good as new,"
"Okay, so you cleaned it, how are you going to make it 'good as new'," you air quote as he sat back down.
"I could kiss it better," he suggests, not actually meaning it, instead, using it to refer to a similar past situation.
"Ow- Y/n," Obi-Wan pulls away as you stitch his completely busted lip.
"Your fault for tripping down those steps mid-battle," you sing, rubbing his cheek to soothe him, "I have to stitch it up so it heals,"
"Can't you just kiss it better?" He raises a brow suggestively making you sigh, resisting the urge to facepalm.
"Just one," you lean forward and leave a peck on the edge of his lip, away from the cut. "Better?"
"I feel good as new," he smiles brightly before groaning, "ow..."
"Good as new, hm?" You take the cloth back to his bleeding lip again.
"Very funny," your fingers fiddle with the tassels of the pillow while he clears his throat and walks to place the medic kit away.
His hands fiddle around before he found no other reason to stay. "You should rest," just as he opens the door R2 stood there with a plate of meiloorun hand-pies. "Thank you for coming on time, R2," he whispers with a tinge of sarcasm.
"Alright, what did you sneak this time, young one?" Master Watson folds her arms, looking at the small basket of pies behind your back.
"Nothing," you say slyly, stepping back.
"Don't lie to me," she pokes your nose, chuckling when you scrunch up your face.
"They're just meiloorun hand pies! I was hungry..."
"Hungry enough for... what is that? Twenty-two?" she points to the small pastries making you shift the weight on your legs. "Now, young Y/n, who else have you recruited in your little scheme?"
Your eyes dart to Obi-Wan whose face scrunches up in thought. He looks from left to right, before running to Master Watson's side, "master Watson, Master Qui-Gon requests your help in the archives,"
Master Watson looks from you to Obi-Wan before leaving swiftly. Of course, neither caught her taking one of the pies, "that's plenty enough for them both,"
Obi-Wan takes your hand, dragging you away as you let out a small laugh. "Did she suspect anything?" He asks once you both finally reach the room of a thousand fountains.
"Not a thing," you wrap the pies up in the cloth and hold it close before grabbing him by the collar and into a wall of shrubbery.
"Woah!-" he grabs onto you while you both roll down a hidden hill, Obi-Wan yelling in fear while you squeal in joy.
"I doubt you had enough to eat at dinner before it... went to waste," the Jedi holds the plate to your peripheral. "Like I said... I remember quite a bit," when you take the dish from his hands, he didn't leave much time for you to input thanks before ushering out with R2.
"Goodnight..." you mumble after, darkness engulfing the room, this time paired with an eerie loneliness.
~~~
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