Choose Your Words || A Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Story

Chapter 5: Hold Me

“Happy birthday, Anakin!” Obi-Wan says, smiling with endless fondness in his eyes, as he steps aside to reveal a slightly battered blue and white astromech droid. “This is R2D2. He needs a little work done, of course, but I’m sure that with your talent it won’t–”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish: in less than a second, he has his arms full of his apparently very grateful Padawan.

“Thank you, thank you, Master!” he whispers almost reverently into the folds of Obi-Wan’s robes as he buries his face into them.

Obi-Wan freezes in his Padawan’s embrace, just like he did the very first time it happened, caught completely off-guard by the sudden display of appreciation. It is just an old R2 droid, after all. No reason to get all that excited.

“You got me the best model, Master! You are amazing!”

Obi-Wan feels Anakin’s hands retract from around his waist only to curl around his neck as the boy rises onto his tiptoes and presses his face into the hollow of his neck with a satisfied sigh.

Obi-Wan knows that unlike him – all composed and withdrawn – his Padawan is a very tactile person, always touch-starved, always in need of a hug. And he almost casts his arms carefully around the boy, reciprocating the embrace like he has done countless times before, but this time something feels…off. Even this simple touch seems like too much. Even this comforting embrace, even the usual chaste kiss on the forehead – it all suddenly feels inappropriate.

Something has imperceptibly changed in Anakin’s presence in the Force.

“You are eleven now, Ani,” he reminds him in a soft voice, gently pulling away from his Padawan’s arms. “Aren’t you a little too old for this?”

Anakin draws back instantly, his expression shocked and betrayed, as though Obi-Wan has slapped him across the face.

“What, is this not the Jedi way?” he asks with derision, hastily trying to cover up how hurt he is, but his voice is already shaking. His eyes are glistening with tears.

Obi-Wan recognizes his mistake immediately: he has been allowing these childish displays of affection and comforting embraces for far too long to just end them so abruptly and rudely now. He should have been subtler about it, for Force’s sake! But now he is too distraught with that unexpected uneasiness he is feeling to do something to mend the situation.

“Anakin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” he starts, having no actual idea what to say, but the boy doesn’t let him finish anyway. He whirls around and dashes to the door leading out of their quarters.

“Ani, wait!” Obi-Wan calls after him, reaching out in an instinctive attempt to stop his stubborn Padawan.

The already opening door slides shut abruptly right before the boy’s nose, yielding to Obi-Wan’s Force impulse.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Anakin slams his fists against the durasteel.

Once.

Twice.

To no avail.

His chest is heaving with a sob. He presses his palms and forehead against the cold metal, desperately trying to calm down. But it is already too late, and he knows it. His all-out breakdown is imminent now: the countdown has already begun somewhere in his chest. He can feel his body tremble, his cheeks flare, his eyes fill with tears.

The pain of betrayal feels very real. He thought his Master knew. He thought he understood how much Anakin needs the comfort of his embraces, how it is the only thing able to rein in the emotions that are constantly trying to break the surface and spill out of him like a devastating torrent.

Anakin’s throat tightens with the oncoming tears and he can’t breathe anymore. He shudders as the silent sob, which his body has worked so hard to contain within, racks his shoulders.

He is almost hysterical already, and he is only going to spiral down from here, that much he knows. It won’t take him long to fall apart completely.

He wants to scream. He wants to throw things. He wants to wail and weep until he passes out.

The storm is rising inside him. His dark aura splashes around him, swirling and roaring. It will never calm down. Ever. Not on its own. Not unless he goes and tucks his face into his Master’s chest again. Not unless he is pulled into the safety of his embrace, and held, and comforted, and feels loved and cherished again…

If his Master denies him that, if he pushes him away again, he will most definitely die. He won’t survive. He’s gonna die. He can’t breathe. He can’t– Everything is getting dark. He’s gonna die! He’s gonna–

“Shh…” His Master’s breath fans over the nape of his neck as he crouches over him slightly to carefully wrap his arms around his shaking shoulders.

And Anakin doesn’t just let his body slack into his embrace – he collapses into it with a pathetic whimper, sobbing and barely conscious.

“Where were you going, Ani?” his Master murmurs somewhere against his temple, pulling him gently away from the door. “Did you want to run away from me?”

“No! No!” Anakin chokes on his sobs, shaking his head vehemently. “I just– I–”

His body gives violent shudders every time he tries to take a breath. His vision is swimming with tears. He feels delirious, completely overwhelmed with his raging emotions.

“It was wrong of me to push you away, my dear Padawan,” his Master admits, regret obvious in his soothing voice. “When you are upset you should be running to me, not away.”

“I’m sorry, Master! I– I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Anakin says tearfully. “I just can’t– I can’t stop. I–”

“You are very special, Anakin. I understand that you feel the Force differently from all the other Jedi – more intensely. And of course, you need help dealing with all these acute emotions,” his Master reassures him, his gentle cadence soothing and lulling. “So whenever you feel like you need my emotional support, I will give it to you. No matter how old you are. Okay?”

“Promise?” Anakin chokes out, taking a heaving breath in an effort to still his uncontrollable sobbing.

“Promise.” His Master gives him a little squeeze to punctuate his words. “Just tell me what you need, Ani.”

Instantly, Anakin turns around in his Master’s embrace and wraps his arms tightly around his waist, his hands gripping desperately into his clothes.

“Hold me some more, Master! Please, please! I need…”

His Master holds him tighter. His bright, warm halo wraps around Anakin’s stormy one. Swaddles it. Cradles it. And suddenly Anakin doesn’t feel like he is dying anymore.