Work Text:
Leaving Anakin in the Coruscant shade, Ahsoka disappears into the sun and falls under the sky. A mix of orange hues fair above her skin, but only for a moment as the star dips below the horizon; as Ahsoka dips below Anakin's view; as the warmest part of Anakin's slowly shrinking circle fades into the night, a silhouette of a former, better day. When it turns black and blue, and Anakin is still stood outside the temple, the sky simply serves as a reminder that all things end, and that he can never truly have control over anything
There is a mix of fiery anger, hot enough to fry someone's nerves in seconds and convince them to let their skin sizzle in a boiling fryer for just a couple more moments. It's an anger that leads to scarring and curling and gnawing and licking at something already eroded. It's a fury that forms and fumes inside of Anakin's chest, and though it dissipates as soon as it's born, it still sits and steames and watches that skin lose its fingerprints.
Who could blame Ahsoka for anything? Who would he be, if not a liar to deny the depth of the words she spoke, the things she knew?
Ahsoka could always see deep inside of him, could open him up and put him on display if she wanted to. Obi-Wan could do it too, but Ahsoka rarely tip-toed the way Master Kenobi seemed to, always so careful with his words regarding his Padawan. But Anakin doesn't need babying, he needs -
He feels a tug on both strings, a cool frozen feeling or something hot. He doesn't care, he knows either way he'd land it would still hurt. And what does it matter if he falls forwards or backwards? Isn't it all the same, when it burns? Whats the difference when its hypothermia or boiling lava?
"I know"
Does she? Does she know Anakin loves with a passion so terrifying that even he scares himself sometimes? Does she know Anakin could kill a man without flinching, could bathe in the blood of another human being if it meant keeping her safe?
It's a fierce feeling, one that leaves Anakin wanting to rise into space and float for a while if it meant escaping the emotional equivalent of being buried under the pressure of what feels like an endless feet of dirt.
He's so exhausted. It's so exhuasting. Feeling so much is exhuasting, and he wonders how Obi-Wan can keep it all together, if he ever gets migraines from how much his heart aches, if he ever has to lay down from holding all of that weight he carries.
Obi-Wan is strong. Much stronger than Anakin is, and the younger man feels that familiar pull of envy as he hangs his head. He's still sitting at the steps of the temple blanketed by the cool night of Coruscant, holding out hope for his youngling to return home and safe in his arms.
Would Obi-Wan miss him like this too?
Would he long to touch in the way that he wants to grab Ahsoka, to reel her back in and hold her firmly on his hip? Would Obi-Wan be starved for him in that same sentimental way, for just even the barest, the smallest fraction of a moment?
It's a selfish question, and it's one that sends Anakin's emotions reeling, and it's as if a huge wave of salty, hot water had licked at an open wound on his stomach and buried itself deep inside him. He squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to pull away from the burning thats creeping up his throat, behind his lids.
Would Obi-Wan cry over losing him?
It's a horrifying question, and it eats Anakin from the inside out and it's all he can do before the answer bursts, erupts from his lungs and spills out onto the floor in front of him. The hot, salty wave releases; a tide of emotions; a tsunami.
"No."
A shaky breath, recovering from drowning.
"No, he wouldn't."
And he's pretty sure that's where it all went wrong.