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Home was something Anakin preferred not to think about. Stinging twin suns, the thick scent of spice and who knows what packing a punch, not to mention the sand that felt as though it could burn through the soles of his shoes. Sure, the place reminded him of his dear, sad mother, but as a Padawan, he had learned to keep that to the side of his mind. The sand though? By the stars could he never push it out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried.
With every step Anakin took through the Jedi Temple, the smooth, cold stone and soft rugs drove memories of that ever so familiar sand right through his meant-to-be-focused mind. With each mission he was led on with Obi-Wan, he hoped and prayed it would be to somewhere as sand-covered as Tatooine. Alas, there was rarely an occasion when such a thing would happen. Though, when it did, he received only the most befuddled of looks from his Master as he intensely watched grains fall between his fingers, catching on his ebony robes.
Beside his bed, Anakin kept a small jar filled with the stuff. Hopping into bed, under the covers, he always stared longingly at it. Those pale grains, resting amongst each other, waiting to be disturbed by Jedi hands (specifically, his own). Sometimes, when he truly felt like it, he’d disturb it, feeling satisfaction when stray specks found themselves amongst his bedsheets.
Anakin had never truly owned up to his love for sand, but one night, jar almost empty, he confessed as it clung to his flesh and stuck in the roots of his hair. “I love you,” He mumbled, rolling to his side to pick up grains with the pads of his fingers, “You make this training worth it. You get me through every day. I’ve wanted to tell you for years, but I’ve never worked up the courage. I’m so in love with you, sand.” His heart skipped a beat when his weight on the mattress left a sifting sound as grains slid down into a heap against his back.
It was on a stray mission when bliss arose. He and Obi-Wan were dealing with trouble by the seaside on a system in the middle rim, and Anakin being Anakin, had pissed off his Master so badly that he was left to run through the sand and into the ocean until Obi-Wan came back. Nothing had felt this good in months.
Legs damp, a thick coat of darkened sand clinging to his calves and stretching up his thighs, Anakin stood. Grains parted from his flesh, yet he savoured the sensation of lingering sand coating his palms. He was sure he still had hours left until Obi-Wan would come back, and like hell was he going to retreat to their ship. So, muscles fighting against his beloved, he pulled himself towards the crystal sea.
Wet sand was a twist on his love, but a welcome one at that. He shivered as his feet sank, gasping. He experimented with the sensation as he waded further into the warm water, gentle waves colliding with his waist as he smiled. It felt delicious, forbidden even. He could stay here forever if he really wanted, but he decided it best to leave every once and again, allowing himself to crave the touch until being sated with fervour. Still, that didn’t mean he had to leave straight away.
Anakin was so lost in the sensation and the fullness of his heart that he failed to notice the harsh, high-rise wave that was rolling in his direction. When the rushing sound breathed in his ears, it was too late. He was knocked over, stuck underwater until it and the next wave were gone. Sand had gotten everywhere . Then, and only then, did sand’s spell on him disappear.
Sand was coarse and rough and irritating, further emphasis now on how it had gotten ‘everywhere’ . He spat out grains and salt water, dragging himself to shore as his legs grew weaker. His heart was in two. How had he been so blinded to this filthy truth, stretching back to when he was a child? Then it hit him. He had never properly set foot in the ocean before, leaving him to never have had the chance to see sand from a different point of view. He collapsed in dry sand, the filthy stuff he once loved clinging to almost every part of him.
Wallowing in his heartbreak, Anakin’s eyes burned with tears more than salt water. He was beside himself--that was until a pair of boots and a scoff were actually beside him. He looked up to Obi-Wan standing there, brows raised and arms crossed. The look on his face was all too familiar, Anakin preparing himself for a lecture as he blamed the puffiness of his eyes on the water.
Pain had never felt like this before. No one had ever betrayed him to such an extent. Not having a clue how to deal with this newfound emotion, he burst into a new type of Anakin tantrum. All Obi-Wan could do was stare, not even bothering to remind Anakin it was not the Jedi way to be clouded by emotion, as he waited far too patiently for the teenager to stop. Anakin eventually silenced, later receiving a lecture about how irresponsible he was, how he dragged sand through his and Obi-Wan’s ship, and for spoiling his brand new robes that had to be changed into ratty ones singed by a lightsaber.
Anakin knew nothing would ever be the same again. Irreversible damage had been done. Something in him was unhinged now, susceptible even. Alas, he knew he’d never see sand the same way again.