THE MOMENT PADME opens the door to her apartment Anakin is sidestepping her through it && doing everything he can to avoid her eyes. Grief scores the Knight’s face deeply, revealing premature fissures of worry the war has carved into his youthful flesh. He makes a beeline for the sumptuous couch settled in the center of the living room && sits down on it. Then he hides his face in his hands.
The silence that follows brings with it a fog of agony stored within anticipation. Any day with Anakin could be sheer terror. He’s like a dark star, threatening to blow up or collapse at a moment’s notice.
The explanation takes the shape of a hurried admission: ❝ Obi-Wan kissed me && I kissed him back && I think I liked it! ❞ He stands then, tears blurring pink into the whites of his eyes, dark blue becomes fevered && apologetic. ❝ I’m sorry— I love you, Padme, ❞ he steps closer to her, reaching out for her. ❝ I would never leave you, you know that. ❞
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