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Obi-Wan is dying.
At least, he’s fairly certain that’s what’s happening.
The screaming pain in his body has quieted to a dull roar.
The thunderous worry of never being found is now the barest of anxious whispers in the back of his mind.
The world around him is muffled and muted save for the gentle breeze on his skin and the deep chill in his bones.
He can’t remember how long ago they crashed on this moon—
It was a crash, wasn’t it?
Or had they escaped capture?
They certainly weren’t supposed to be here.
Were they?
He knows they’ve been moving for days — it must have been days — climbing a mountain that seemed to have no peak, desperately seeking higher and higher ground with the barest of hopes someone might pick up their signal.
Anakin is—
Anakin is fading like a blazing sunset.
That incredible light inside him flickers every time their calls for help go unanswered.
Does a star as bright as Anakin Skywalker collapse or explode?
Fear is thick and bitter on Obi-Wan’s tongue and he can’t tell anymore if the dread belongs to him or Anakin.
“I’m scared,” one of them says.
Maybe they both say it.
“I’m afraid we’re alone.”
“I’m afraid I’ll miss you—”
Obi-Wan thinks those words are his.
He hopes they are.
It’s the truth.
He will miss Anakin.
He always does.
Every time.
Every time he walks past Anakin’s empty quarters.
Every time he looks at the red and gold emblem emblazoned on his pauldrons.
Every time Anakin flashes that beautiful smile before turning to walk away.
A slanted smirk.
Wry and reckless.
Sometimes Obi-Wan allows himself to think it looks a bit like regret.
Maybe death will take this monstrous longing.
It’s a hopeful thought.
One that speaks to release.
To relief.
The Force has always refused his offer.
No matter how many times Obi-Wan has begged her to take the toxic love that sprouted in his heart under the never-ending deluge sent forth by the stormcloud of war — an unassuming blossom whose vines now wrap around his very soul, weaving between his ribs and curling possessively around his arteries until one day he’d woken up and couldn’t deny it anymore.
He belonged to Anakin.
Maybe he always has.
Someone is talking.
Distant and echoing.
Maybe it’s him.
He hopes they are worthy last words.
Anakin is crying.
His chest convulses with heavy sobs as he holds his former Master close and Obi-Wan can’t help but think that in these arms is exactly where he wants to die.
Their foreheads press together.
Something they’ve always done.
Since Anakin’s first night in the temple.
Since the first night that brave boy woke up screaming and Obi-Wan had pulled his shaking body into strong arms — holding Anakin in his lap on the floor, breathing slowly, their minds as close as their physical bodies would allow — until Anakin’s breathing had melted from sharp frantic gasps to long languid breaths and the fear retreated back into the dark.
It’s a comfort.
A ritual.
These days it is a rare solace amongst the horrors of war.
Once they’d found each other in the middle of a horrid battle — each with a hand grasped behind the other's neck — trying to pull themselves back from the edge.
Stealing a moment for themselves.
A moment to refocus.
Recenter.
Reconnect.
War raging around them.
Their foreheads pressed together.
When Anakin pulls back, Obi-Wan feels like he might fall.
As if he might tumble down the rocky face of this wretched mountain.
Dead long before he reaches the bottom.
But then he is looking at Anakin.
Staring into wild blue eyes that make him feel as if the moon has suddenly tipped on its axis.
And nothing has ever felt more right.
Maybe he has always belonged to Anakin.
Obi-Wan feels warmth for the first time in days.
His breath comes out in a hot plume of white fog like he’s breathing smoke, the gentle beading of dew on his lips.
His frozen fingers flex and retract, tingling with life like a thousand welcome needles sinking into his skin.
Heat blooms in his chest like so many flowers under the soothing light of Anakin’s star.
Bright and brilliant and so so beautiful and suddenly Obi-Wan understands.
This is why the Force has refused his offerings.
This moment.
As Anakin continues to cry tears he can’t afford to waste and the Force stares upon a faithful servant and the fading light of her only son.
Purpose.
At last.
A part of Obi-Wan has always known that Anakin would be the death of him.
That love would be the death of him.
So weak he has always been in matters of the heart.
So desperate for affection and connection.
He almost walked away for war.
He almost walked away for her.
But if he’d walked away then—
Obi-Wan presses his palms to Anakin’s cheeks, feeling his own body relax as he gives himself over to the whims of the Force, trusting her to guide him with powers he has never possessed.
I give you my life.
It’s an easy choice to make.
What lives in me belongs to you.
I welcome the shadow of death in the light of your life.
Anakin’s eyes go wide.
Twin blue dwarfs blazing with fire and Force and frantic understanding.
Obi-Wan’s fingers tingle with life and his heart lurches with hope.
Anakin tries to pull away.
Obi-Wan holds him still.
You will live.
I could never be your ending.
Anakin is crying harder now.
He’s screaming and sobbing and he looks like he’s going to tear the galaxy apart.
But he will live.
Obi-Wan manages to keep his eyes open long enough to see the young man’s cheeks grow rosy.
The gray of death chased from his golden skin.
He is so beautiful.
Obi-Wan wishes he had told him that.
Wishes he had kissed those lips.
Wishes he had confessed his heart.
As the world fades, he hopes that maybe he did…
*
Anakin is haunted.
Haunted by the memory of Obi-Wan going limp in his arms.
Haunted by the image of faintly flickering silver eyes begging him to live.
Haunted by the delirious words that fell from his lips as he faded away.
Words that float in Anakin’s mind the way Obi-Wan’s body still floats in bacta.
Anakin is haunted.
Now that he knows—
Now that he’s felt Obi-Wan dancing with death it’s hard not to scold himself for the past.
For the cruel trick he’d fallen for.
He should have known the difference.
Back then it had just been a cold body that looked like Obi-Wan and the absence of his presence in the Force but—
But to feel him actually dying—
To feel the light slip slowly from the man he loved more than—
More than—
Far far more than he should.
Anakin had been so certain they’d both seen their last sunrise when they’d collapsed together on that mountainside. He had felt it as if it were prophecy. Then, Obi-Wan pressed wondrously warm hands to his cheeks and suddenly it no longer felt like death was the only inevitability. Life surged from the swirls of Obi-Wan’s fingerprints like a hurricane, seeping into Anakin’s skin — breathing power and energy and hope into the thin space between them.
It was beautiful.
It was horrible.
It was impossible to sit there watching helplessly as those beguiling blue eyes were drained of their pigment and sparkle, a dull gray staring uneasy and unfocused up at Anakin as Obi-Wan pulled him so close and whispered again—
Had he actually said those things?
Meant those words?
Had his lips really—
Anakin isn’t sure anymore.
It’s so easy to convince himself he made the whole thing up.
He had been so tired. So close to simply letting go — comfortable in the knowledge that he would pass into the living Force alongside the one being he would ever freely accept death beside.
They would have died together.
It felt right.
It still does.
Strength and vitality poured out of Obi-Wan as secrets spilled from his lips and Anakin had been so caught up in his whispered words and longing looks that he hadn’t realized what was happening until the fingers on his cheeks grew cold and the brilliant light inside Obi-Wan began to wither.
For a dying man, Obi-Wan’s grip was exceptionally strong.
Anakin really shouldn’t have been surprised.
The man is equal parts serenity and stubborn.
By the time Anakin managed to rip himself from his master’s life-giving hands and grab hold of that fading ferocious flicker of Force still burning deep inside him, it was little more than an ember — a dim twinkling glow, winking in and out of sight with every heavy heartbeat.
Dim.
Delicate.
But still scorching hot.
The way Obi-Wan burned into Anakin — holding on so tightly, begging the Force to ignite that radiant flame once again, feeling the life he’d been gifted surging guiltily through his veins — it felt like a brand he’d always borne.
A distant part of him hopes perhaps his prints might be burned into Obi-Wan too.
After begging and pleading and threatening to join the man in death — a small flame sparked to life deep inside Obi-Wan and Anakin had howled as the Force whipped around them like a storm of pain and panic and passion.
Obi-Wan’s dim glow heated his skin and Anakin was certain it felt like love.
With strength he didn’t know he had, Anakin had pulled Obi-Wan’s limp and nearly lifeless body over his shoulder before trudging ever upward in a reckless rush.
They had been so close, breaking through the thick cloud cover in a matter of hopeless hurried minutes and suddenly there was a voice on the other end of his comm.
“We have your position, General.”
“Get here now!”
“We’re on our—”
“RIGHT NOW!”
The report will say Obi-Wan lost consciousness — something about the atmosphere Anakin had babbled when Rex asked what happened and he knew he needed to lie — the report makes Anakin look like a hero.
But what is he supposed to say?
I was certain it was death for us both.
He tried to give me his life, and I—
I couldn’t let go.
No.
The truth is a burden the knight carries alone.
Precious and perilous.
All he can do is wonder if Obi-Wan is holding on to that flickering flame inside him or if the fire is holding onto him.
The healers say his master is doing well.
And Anakin is haunted.
*
Obi-Wan is alive.
He’s sore.
He’s exhausted.
He has a veritable mountain of reports and plans waiting for him as soon as he’s released by [or escapes] the healers but—
But Obi-Wan is alive.
Obi-Wan is alive and Anakin can hardly look at him.
It’s not like the last time Obi-Wan returned from the veil of death. Then Anakin hadn’t even been able to stand being on the same ship as his former master let alone the same room. Then it had been anger and betrayal that bled from him like an open wound. Then Obi-Wan had at very least known the source of the young man’s erratic behavior but now—
Now it feels like he’s in mourning.
Like he’s not quite ready to believe it.
Like he’s still waiting for it to all go wrong.
It’s clear he hasn’t been sleeping, and if the past is any indication, he probably hasn’t spent a night in his own bed since Obi-Wan’s broken body entered bacta. His eyes are red and his hair is a mess, though it does look like someone forced him to bathe at some point.
Obi-Wan wonders if he’s been eating enough.
“Anakin—“
His voice is rough from days of disuse and his throat is dry but he feels a smile curl his lips when those brilliant blue eyes finally meet his, shining with life and relief and something Obi-Wan can’t quite place.
“—You’ve saved me again.”
In an instant those sparkling eyes go wide, perfect pink lips parting in a small startled gasp, a strange strangled hurt leaching out into the Force and Obi-Wan finds himself wishing he could take back the words.
Words that usually make the young man smile.
Words Anakin might usually say himself.
An easy laugh.
A long-running joke.
But Anakin looks—
“I’m glad you’re—“
The young man seems to choke on his own tongue and Obi-Wan thinks it might be the word alive caught in his throat.
“—awake.”
The next days aren’t much better.
Anakin always seems to be just leaving.
“I was thinking I might visit Dex—”
“I just ate.”
“We should discuss—”
“Already read the report.”
“Any interest in sparring?”
“I can’t right now I— I have to go.”
Obi-Wan is alive and Anakin—
Anakin is avoiding me.
He doesn’t want to be near me.
He can’t stand to look at me.
Obi-Wan is alive but his heart is breaking.
What happened on that mountainside?
It’s so hard to remember.
It felt like they had been climbing for days, their muscles and their hopes growing weak, fraying around the edges in a way Obi-Wan wasn’t sure either of them would come back from.
He remembers feeling cold, he remembers feeling fear, he remembers feeling — acceptance — then warmth and life and hope.
He remembers feeling love.
The report says he lost consciousness. It says that Anakin carried him until rescue came and by all accounts, the young man appeared in perfect health, unlike his aging master, who apparently recalls the experience being far more perilous than it really was.
Perhaps that’s what this is about.
Perhaps Anakin now realizes what the master has known for years—
That Obi-Wan will only ever slow him down.
That he’s a liability.
An old man who is only holding him back.
Perhaps he sees just how weak his former master is.
How pitiful.
How flawed.
Conflicted.
Broken.
Without Obi-Wan, Anakin is still the brightest star in every universe. The most beautiful thing Obi-Wan has ever seen. A shining Jedi knight. A war hero. The Chosen One.
Without Anakin—
Without Anakin, who is Obi-Wan?
*
Anakin is dying—
At least that’s what it feels like.
Every time he looks at Obi-Wan he has to swallow the boulder in his throat so he doesn’t repeat words he’s now so certain he heard those lips whisper, his shoulders heavy with the life his master gifted him.
But Anakin can’t take it anymore.
The hiding, the lying, the excuses.
He can’t stand to watch Obi-Wan walk around like nothing has changed.
Because it has.
Everything has changed.
“Anakin—”
Obi-Wan sounds surprised when his former padawan barges into his quarters unannounced. It’s far from the first time, but it’s been weeks since they’ve said more than a few words to each other and Anakin can feel it all gathering behind his teeth and when Obi-Wan takes a single cautious step forward he can’t hold it back anymore.
“You tried to leave me—”
Obi-Wan freezes as the accusation hits him.
“—You tried to give me your life on that mountain. You tried to die.”
Blue eyes blink at him like he’s trying to recall the last moments of a dying mind.
“You put your hands on my face and you— you said—”
The look in Obi-Wan’s eyes is too much to stand and Anakin feels overwhelmed and out of his mind, turning on his heels to leave before he says something he can’t take back.
“What did I say?”
It’s barely a whisper but it's enough to make Anakin shiver as he comes to a halt just short of the door.
“Anakin, please—”
He sounds desperate.
He sounds like he wants to hear the words as badly as Anakin does.
“—Please tell me so I can fix this—”
Fix this?
Like they are broken.
Maybe they are.
But when Obi-Wan said those words…
Anakin had never felt more right.
“You said you loved me.”
Anakin turns back to see Obi-Wan’s brow knit in confusion as the words hang in the air for several moments too long, his eyes soft and serene and shining with the ferocious fright of a man who showed no fear in the face of death.
“Anakin—” he breathes softly, his voice laced with care and careful compassion, “surely you know that I—”
“You said you loved me too much.”
A small gasp falls from Obi-Wan’s parted lips and his eyes go wide with wild worry. He takes a small step back, and another, his head shaking ever so slightly like he is trying to deny it without the words caught in his throat.
“You said you loved me in ways you shouldn’t.”
He looks terrified now, his eyes darting around the room like he wants to run away, but Anakin isn’t about to let him hide from this anymore, taking a step closer to the master even as the older man takes another step back.
Obi-Wan said those words — words Anakin had never even dreamed of hearing — but he’d said them, and Anakin is so sure he’d meant it, even as that vibrant light was slipping through his fingers like sand in a too-tight grip.
“I— I—“
“You told me I was beautiful—“
With a soft thud, Obi-Wan’s back hits the wall and he startles in a way Anakin has never seen, realizing he has nowhere to go as his former padawan steps ever closer.
“Anakin— I—“
“You said you wanted me—“
“I am so sorry.“
Obi-Wan looks like he might be sick and suddenly, Anakin worries maybe he’s made it all up.
Maybe he’d imagined the whole thing.
The foolish fantasy of a fading mind.
“You were never meant to hear those words—”
But then Obi-Wan looks up and their eyes lock and he can see it.
It’s buried beneath miles of horror and shame, but it’s there—
Love.
His voice is rough and strained with the tears he’s holding back, but every word carries with it the weight of a humble man’s hungry heart, “this secret— this burden is meant to be mine alone to carry—“
Anakin slows his steps when he feels a sickening wave of guilt roll off the man before him, his heart aching in his chest as worried words begin to pour from Obi-Wan’s lips.
“It was selfish to say those things, Anakin, I— I have tried so hard to let it go— these feelings—” He runs his hands down his face like it’s all hitting him at once and Anakin can’t help but take another small step, “—Of course, you’ve been avoiding me. You must be disgusted, I— I’m disgusted with myself, Anakin, I am so sorry, I— I understand if you never want to see me again—”
“Obi-Wan—“
“I’ll speak with the council— I’ll tell them—“
“Master, please—“
“— I should have gone to them a long time ago— I just thought I could—“
“Obi-Wan!”
When Obi-Wan finally stops talking, Anakin has the man’s face in his hands, beard rough against his palms, a metal thumb wiping a stray tear from freckled cheeks.
There are a million worries in those beautiful blue eyes.
Anakin needs to quiet every last one of them.
“I love you, too.”
The look of twisted torment on Obi-Wan’s face shifts to a deep dubious confusion — his brows pinched and lips parted as his eyes bounce back and forth between Anakin’s own — he shakes his head, but there is hope in his wild stare and Anakin can only say it again.
“I love you.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes go wide and Anakin can see an entire galaxy gazing back at him in a stunned swirl of silver and sapphire, freckles scattered like stars and supernovas in that familiar stare.
“I’ve loved you for so long and then you said you loved me too and I thought—“ he can’t keep the desperation out of his wavering voice, his fear and ferocious need far too difficult to swallow, “—I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.” Obi-Wan looks like he wants to pull away and Anakin finds black and gold fingers twisting in copper hair, determined to never let go of the man ever again, his gut twisting at the memory of Obi-Wan’s martyrdom on that mountainside, “But then you were dying! You were fading away and telling me it was so I could live— that your love would keep me alive but I— I—“
He’s not sure when he started to cry and Obi-Wan looks like he isn’t breathing.
“I could never live without you, Obi-Wan.”
Anakin thinks it’s the truest thing he’s ever said.
“And now—”
Their foreheads press together.
Something they’ve always done.
Since Anakin’s first night in the temple.
Stealing moments just for themselves.
A moment to refocus.
Recenter.
Reconnect.
A habit that has always felt as fated as it does forbidden — this trembling touch, so tender and needy — both of them sinking into the other like two halves of a single soul.
The world around them forgotten.
Their foreheads pressed together.
“—I can’t go back.”
Strong hands weigh heavy on Anakin’s shoulders, his fingers twitching on leather tabards, his breath stuttering in the thin space between them.
“I—” Obi-Wan’s voice is barely a whisper, trembling the way his hands do as his fingers find their way into messy curls as if moved by a force outside his control, “I don’t know what to say—“
“That’s a first—”
Obi-Wan’s eyes burn at the biting words, the man Anakin knows and loves piercing through that fog of fear, his fingers tightening ever so slightly in the knight’s hair.
“Say you love me,” Anakin smiles, his voice warm and wistful even as Obi-Wan shivers in his arms, “Say you love me too much,” gentle fingers grip the older man’s bearded jaw to tip his head back just enough for their noses brush together and Anakin can practically taste the air Obi-Wan breathes and those bright beguiling eyes soften and he can see that steely silver bleeding away like his resolve and Anakin decides maybe there's one thing he wants more than words, “—Or, you could just kiss me.”
The fear that had clouded his master’s eyes is now burning like wildfire and all Anakin wants to do is stoke that flame.
“No words required.”
“I— I couldn’t—”
It’s barely a protest, his eyes focused on Anakin’s mouth, the hand in messy curls tightening even as he tries to hold onto his sanity.
“—I shouldn’t.”
But Obi-Wan doesn’t know.
There’s nothing left to hold onto.
“Master—” Anakin whispers, a smile spreading across his face when Obi-Wan shutters, his eyes still lingering on the young man’s lips, “—You already have.“
When Obi-Wan had lay dying on that mountainside and pulled his padawan close, Anakin had thought that was it for them, their final moments together — but then he’d whispered his love against Anakin’s lips and everything changed.
“You kissed me goodbye.”
It had been little more than a bare press of his lips against Anakin’s but the way the man had sighed against his mouth like he’d been waiting his whole life just to die so he could kiss a young man he had no idea loved him more than any life without him.
“I won't let that be the only kiss you ever give me.”
It sounds like a threat and Anakin doesn’t care because every single syllable is the truth.
“Please, Obi-Wan—“
They’re pressed so close that Anakin can practically taste Obi-Wan’s shallow breath and it reminds him of home.
“—kiss me like you don’t think you’re dying.”
Obi-Wan’s entire body is trembling like he’s struggling to hold onto some wild beast, and when their eyes connect and his master breathes “Anakin—“ there is nothing in the entire galaxy that can stop him from taking what he wants — not when the Force burns with need and Obi-Wan’s lips are practically begging for Anakin to drag him into danger the way he always does.
That’s why he never hesitates to jump.
That is why he has no fear.
Because Obi-Wan will always jump after him.
*
Obi-Wan is dead.
Either that or he’s more alive than he’s ever been.
Like rough seas against steady rock, Anakin crashes against Obi-Wan again and again — a wild storm he is certain he has no chance of surviving — pulled under so quickly in the swirling current of Anakin’s kiss that all Obi-Wan can do is kiss the young man back.
The first few moments are fevered and frantic — a frenetic collision — clashing together like blades in a desperate duel. All teeth and tongue and shattering tension and Anakin kisses just like he fights— aggressive and over-eager and if only he could practice a little more patience—
Obi-Wan twists his grip in Anakin’s hair — silky curls he’s dreamed of burying his fingers in for far longer than he cares to admit — tugging in a gentle warning he should know by now the young man will not heed. Anakin’s lips part in a needy little whine that makes Obi-Wan’s blood heat when he tightens his grip in that wild mane and yanks hard enough to pull Anakin back from his dizzying and desperate pursuit.
For half a breath or breathless minutes, Obi-Wan’s gaze lingers on Anakin’s lips. Pink and perfect and even more distracting than usual, bitten and bruised, glistening with his master’s kiss.
There’s a part of him that wants to dive right back in.
To sink back into Anakin’s mouth.
To tug at his layers.
To throw every caution into the fire that burns between them and take everything he’s wanted for so long—
When their eyes meet — blue burning into blue like the blades still attached to their belts — Obi-Wan remembers he’s also longed to stare deep into these beautiful bright eyes and confess a love that feels as if it has lived deep inside him since before he’d ever even laid eyes on the boy who owned his heart.
A confession he’s already made apparently.
Anakin struggles weakly against the hold in his hair and Obi-Wan feels his jaw tighten slightly as his fingers do the same— some biting remark about this exquisite creature’s utter lack of patience hiding behind his teeth—
But when he sees the way Anakin’s eyes begin to flood with a familiar fear — like he’s done something wrong, like Obi-Wan is telling him no— the tempest inside him turning frayed and frantic, Obi-Wan finds his frustration melting away, pressing gentle fondness into the Force, wrapping the young man in reassurance before panic can pull him under.
Slow down.
It’s a familiar refrain.
Though the context is certainly new.
“You said you wanted me to kiss you.”
The words are barely a breath, his blunt fingernails scratching encouragingly against the young man’s scalp as the knight only nods.
“Then please, darling—”
Anakin has never been good at slow.
But the way his body goes pleasantly pliant as Obi-Wan snakes an arm around his deceptively slim waist makes the master think he might be willing to try.
“—Let me kiss you.”
There have been times in the past when Obi-Wan has imagined something in Anakin’s gaze — something heated and hungry — something he was certain couldn’t possibly be there.
Now it’s impossible to ignore.
The fire that burns inside him.
Reflected back at Obi-Wan like twin flames.
His eyes are dark— not with the danger some see inside him, but with a desire that, laid so bare, is undeniable.
And when those brilliant eyes flutter shut — dark dense lashes fanned out across his heated cheeks — it looks something like surrender and Obi-Wan feels it all slip away.
Every reservation.
Every excuse.
Every last rational retort.
It’s impossible to find any flaw in his action when Anakin yields.
When all Obi-Wan can focus on is the open obscene pout of those pretty pink lips and he’s leaning forward to press a quick kiss to one corner of Anakin’s mouth, then the other, then, for a moment, Obi-Wan just looks at him—
Eyes closed.
Lips parted.
Waiting.
It feels as though maybe they’ve been waiting for this a long time.
Not just the men whose lips hover just fractions of a measure apart.
It feels like the shimmering fabric of time and space has been waiting for this moment since before either of them had even been forged.
Obi-Wan studies him for one last breathless moment, certain nothing in his life will ever be the same.
Certain he will struggle with his decision every day.
More than certain he no longer cares.
The hand in honey curls releases its hold to slide along the young man’s sharp jaw, a saber rough thumb brushing over the heated skin on his cheek. Anakin leans into the touch like he can’t help himself, a needy little sound falling from those perfect lips like an impatient plea and Obi-Wan can’t help the small fond chuckle he breaths against the young man’s mouth.
Then Obi-Wan kisses him.
Really kisses him.
And Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’s ever lived before this moment.
His lips taste like light and life and suddenly Obi-Wan remembers Anakin’s tears falling onto his master’s cheeks like love raining down from a broken heart, begging Obi-Wan not to leave him and all he could do was make sure Anakin would live.
He should have known Anakin would refuse to accept his gift with grace.
He should have known this stubborn boy would feed the fading flame inside his heart.
He should have known Anakin would never let him fall.
I give you my life.
What lives in me belongs to you.
The words are more true now than they were on that mountainside.
Obi-Wan kisses Anakin again.
And again.
And by the time Obi-Wan is sucking on his lower lip the way he’s imagined in sleepless dreams and shameful fantasies, Anakin seems to snap out of whatever daze he’s found himself in, his greedy fingers twisting in tan tunics to pull his master closer and Obi-Wan can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips when the young man kisses him back.
It’s slow and indulgent, their lips passing over one another in a slick slide and the way Anakin seems content to simply let himself be kissed makes something covetous and predatory howl in his heart and Obi-Wan can only pull him closer.
The air around them buzzes with eager energy as Obi-Wan licks into Anakin’s mouth and the young man moans like he’s been craving the taste of his tongue for lifetimes.
It’s impossible to feel that this is anything short of fate.
A prophecy all their own.
A single luminous life split in two.
Each of them an irreplaceable part of the other.
Each of their fingerprints branded on the other’s heart.
By the time they break apart, clinging to each other and gasping for air, it feels like the very fabric of their universe is vibrating.
A breath passes between them, molecules dancing between them like density.
Another breath.
Their eyes meet.
“You’re never allowed to leave me—”
The words fall from Anakin’s kiss-bitten lips like he can’t help it.
A petulant demand unbecoming of a Jedi.
It sounds a bit like a threat.
It sounds so much like Anakin.
“—Never again, master— I will never let you go.”
The last word has barely left his lips before Obi-Wan is pulling him back into a bruising kiss, swallowing the sweet little whimper Anakin breaths into his mouth.
Because Obi-Wan understands.
He understands what it’s like to know it would be impossible to go on without the other half of his heart.
He knows how it feels to be so wholly wrapped up in another person that there is no telling where one ends and the other begins.
As Obi-Wan pulls back to look deep into dark eyes he understands exactly what it means to belong to someone.
“And I will die for you as many times as I see fit.”
At first, Anakin looks as if he may protest — his gaze narrow and jaw tight — but when Obi-Wan places a soft kiss to his waiting lips, Anakin seems to understand the meaning in his master’s murmured words.
You are never allowed to leave me, either.
“I love you, Anakin.”
It feels less like a confession and more like a declaration as he mumbles the truth into Anakin’s open mouth, pulling the young man impossibly closer as if he intends to stay right here wrapped in these arms until every star blinks out of existence and the cosmos turns cold and all Obi-Wan can do is repeat words he was so certain he’d never say.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Even in an empty universe, Obi-Wan thinks their fire would still burn bright.
“I love you, too.”
The whispered words wrap around his bones like armor around his soul, close and comforting, a cloak he will wear for the rest of his life.
It rings out like a chorus, an echo in the cavern of open mouths, a mantra repeating on kiss-bitten lips long after the words fall away.
I love you.
I love you, too.
I love you.
I love you, too.
Too much.
I love you.
I love you too much.