Work Text:
—𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲—
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(this fic can also be found on TUMBLR and WATTPAD.)
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The twin moons glowed low and gold in the upper atmosphere when you found yourself entwined, wrapped within the very ribbons of his silvered soul, and punctured straight from the heavens with cookie-cutter precision—a glittering star, dappled amongst the frigid hues of piercing blue—and you were then faced with the decision of being honest with yourself, or letting yourself dare to dream of a little life that you knew neither of you could have, where holding him felt like coming home, but breathing stardust into your lungs just gave him one more sky to tread upon.
Anakin sat up in bed, propping himself up on one elbow as he gazed down at you. The moonlight caught the angles of his face—the scar, the furrow between his brows, the softness in his eyes that only ever appeared when he thought no one was watching—but you had never struggled to see him, even without the light, and that pierced him more deeply than the edge of prophecy or war or even the look in your eye when your heart threatened to speak, but your mind did what it had to in order to protect yourself from it, from him.
When he finally spoke, it was low with want, “I’ve spent my life chasing after people who run from me. I just…don’t want to be chasing shadows with you.”
You could hear it in the silence, the pause between breaths, the curve of his face and how it rivaled the mischief of a crescent moon, and you became anchored to this moment like it had its own gravitational force, something that pulled you into him and would never, ever let you go. In all the words he would not say, in every language, written upon every star he had ever touched, but never as lovingly as with you, spoken with ferocity and verve, or with patience and devotion, boisterous or whispered as silent as a gust of autumn wind, yet every bit as captivating and heavy, one simple request echoed between you like hearts tethered and beating as one: ‘stay’.
“You know there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t want to run into your arms,” your words left you breathless and shaky, like your bones were made of air, “most of the time I just feel that…no matter what or whom we become, if we’re meant to be more than what we are now…that I am going to end up losing you anyway.”
Your words charred his soul and it stung to hear that you were prematurely mourning his loss when he had no intention of going anywhere that you couldn’t follow. When he was with you, his world narrowed, and here, bound not by duty but by devotion, the only thing that rivaled the blue of his gaze was that of your heart—he loathed that color on you. It whispered of mortality, loss, sorrow, things he couldn’t change but that he would never stop waging his own personal war against, because if he could tame the swell of fear that loomed above him like dark waves threatening to drown him in their wild depths, then he could begin to forget that your futures might not hold enough space for each other.
“Oh, darling,” Anakin’s voice deepened, an indication of vehemence and emphasis on his desire for you to remain, “I’m not going anywhere. Stay…until we have no choice. And when that day comes, if it ever does…then you run, as far and as fast as you can. Just don’t leave before the storm hits.”
It was always harder to hear the things that he didn’t say, even if you were always listening.
I will fall.
I will burn.
I will become everything I was meant to destroy.
“Run?” you were incredulous, shocked he would even ask that of you when you both knew it was not something you could give, “No. No, I will not leave you behind.”
His voice dropped lower—hushed, raw—as he pressed his forehead to yours, “You don’t know what’s coming. I can feel it. I see it every night, I—" then, recognition graced his boyish features, “Stars above…you’re not afraid of the storm. You’re afraid of facing it without me.”
He gazed into your eyes, searching for fear, for hesitation, but there was none.
Only fire.
Only love.
And suddenly, he couldn’t fight it anymore.
A ragged sound escaped him—half laugh, half sob—as he crushed you against his chest, arms locking around you like durasteel bands and his hands slid up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the tears already falling down your cheeks, his voice cracking with emotion as he spoke, “If my heart still beats…so will yours,” he vowed, “and if fate tries to tear us apart…then the galaxy will burn for it.”
He had surrendered himself to something greater than duty and discipline, than the fear of loss or reparations afterward, and he pulled you to him, his lips slanting over yours as he swallowed every single sob that left your mouth. His lips were hungry, fierce, a promise sealed in flame.
When you pulled back, breathless and tear-streaked and his, there was a dangerous flicker in his gaze.
Not rage.
Not darkness.
Devotion, absolute and unhinged.
“…And we burn together.”