Chapter Text
This is how it happened.
At first, many holocalls and commcalls passed between Jango and Obi-wan. Some days the growing teen would even be surprised by a visit from the Mandalorian; it was unexpected but pleasant. It was good. It was happy.
Then, Jango stopped showing up. But that was okay. He was a busy man and his bounty hunting job took him all over the galaxy; it was to be expected. The holos and comms still came, if, perhaps, not as regularly as they used to.
After that, Obi-wan realized he had to call Jango more often than not. If he didn't, odds were that the Mando would forget to call for weeks on end. But that was okay . Obi-wan could call; he could remember for the both of them.
Some days the padawan had to content himself with written messages, for Jango didn’t always answer his holocalls and commcalls. Which was okay, the ginger had probably caught him at a bad time, that was all. Obi-wan himself wasn’t always available after all, he had his missions with Qui-gon and his studies, so that was probably it. He probably just called at the wrong time.
And little by little, communication came solely from Obi-wan’s side. He called, he messaged, but Jango would not. But it was fine. It was fine.
It was fine.
Soon enough all the teen got were written messages that took longer to be answered than they probably took to be written. With the passing days, responses got shorter and shorter.
Then one day… One day Jango Fett stopped answering at all.
And that was that.