A Love Story

Everything's Changing

Everything's Changing

–

Anakin's eyes snapped open when he heard the bathroom door close. He pulled himself off the couch, yanking the blanket off and being hit with regret, nausea, and a thread pulling at his throat – he had coughed up his heart. The cigarettes of yesterday had stained it, snipped the heart strings and asphyxiated it.

He tapped on the bathroom door, knowing Padme was inside, waiting for an answer.

"Padme, open the door." He leaned against a pillar, holding himself up and shielding his eyes from the glaring sunlight that this hangover certainly wasn't going to filter out. "Please."

The door creaked open. And through eyes squinting from the sun, he saw her standing in front of the mirror, dressed for work and putting in a thin silver drop earring. Her sophisticated style would never let you know that she felt as torn as a paper flower in this moment, ripped from its environment, pieces of leaves left a trail around the kitchen last night.

"I'm sorry." His eyes flew to the floor, ashamed, serious, humiliated. "I was drunk and crazy and jealous."

There was some subtle relief; she recognized that voice. He sounded like himself again. Like her husband, who was never mean to her, who never raised his voice to her. Neither of them did. Their soft-spoken tones were a melodic telepathy, for over a year and a half, combined with pheromones, matching heart pulses, connecting through the theme of their home – safeness.

But his voice last night, his voice this whole week, was not the voice of her husband. Cold and tough and hard to ignore.

Padme brushed past him, heels click for repose as she headed straight for her handbag she had left on the dining table last night.

She swung the strap over her shoulder, not looking at him. She couldn't. A huge chunk of awe was stripped away and boundaries needed to be set. He would chase after pleasure, fly by the seat of his pants, but she was done being bound to his reactions, worrying how far he would go. Consequences were no longer invisible. They were markings, like portals streaking from their chests, warning of any misstep.

There was no way to dodge these portals, no way out of them but through them.

"I think you should stay with Obi-Wan for a while." Her eyes darted around the kitchen, anywhere but on him. It was a hard choice, confusing, crushing, but courageous and necessary. They say if you love something set it free.

"What?" Feathers of fear expand in his head like a burst pillow. An unmet longing bloomed behind his eyes and sunk to his lips with a bitter aftertaste. "You're kicking me out?"

"I really need some space."

When Padme's eyes finally found his, they sent a strong message. There was no way to be loving without space, there's no way to grow without pain, and there's no way he will set them free if he's constantly afraid.

All he could do was watch her on her way out. Growing sad and stuck in this spot that locked him in from mouth to feet. Unable to speak. Unable to move.

With one hand on the doorknob and the other dangling her keys, she paused to look at him. He also looked like himself again – maybe more disheveled than usual but no longer possessed by the towering darkness of last night. The eyes, like the voice, soft again. But even with those eyes dragging across the floor, loving and remorseful, she was going to be strong, prescient. She needed to take a stand. "So, I'd like it if you were gone by the time I get back."

–

Pedestrians, cars, and advancing life shot by faster than the wind as Anakin practically sprinted along the pavement. He plundered through the town with thoughts of Clovis. A perturbed state of mind huddled under the hood. Under his black hoodie, Anakin's face was malicious, his eyes unpredictable, moody, anxious. Revenge kept pushing up to the forefront in the throes of this blind rage. He marched with a wrathful heart that kept in time with his thumping steps. Archaic sensations harnessed that inner monster that made his hands round into metal fists, robbing his fingers of their flexibility. All he could think about on an endless loop was Clovis meeting his stone-like punch – and how good it would feel to not hold back – feed a lust for unstinting power.