Respite On The Spitalfields (Obikin)
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- Parts 4
"Forgive me, Master, I did not think before I spoke. It came out wrong."
"That it definitely did." His auburn brows knit together on his forehead and he missed the way Anakin's eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. He entirely missed the way those black wings raised as if in mild offense, which didn't make sense anyways.
Anakin's own brows pinched together at how dense his master could be, he almost wanted to reach through their bond to show him just what he smelled like to him. The black winged man cleared his throat, mind made up as he set his shoulders in determination, and corrected himself by saying, "sorry, what I meant was, you smell karking amazing."
*my love letter to the prequels, obikin, and Padmé*
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Padmé's expression turned thoughtful, her eyes searching Anakin's face for answers she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. After a long pause, she spoke again, her voice soft and uncertain, carrying more weight than either of them wanted to acknowledge. "Where does this leave us, Anakin?" Anakin felt a pang in his chest, his heart heavy with the inevitable conversation he's been avoiding for a while. He smiled, but it was a sad, resigned smile. One that held more understanding than words could convey. "Padmé," he began quietly, "you've always been my angel. I've admired you since the day we met, and I always will. But..." He hesitated, glancing away for a second before meeting her gaze again. "I can't feel that kind of attraction. Not for anyone." Padmé held his gaze, her brown eyes soft but full of questions. She didn't pull away from him, didn't flinch, but Anakin could feel her emotions swirling through the Force-disappointment, sadness, a tinge of heartbreak. She hid it well behind her ever-graceful smile, but the Force didn't lie. He could sense the ache beneath the surface, the sadness behind her brave face.
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