Holocron: An Anakin x Reader Story

Chapter 45 - Are You Sure?

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(A/N)

If you're sick and tired of mean (y/n), today is the day that everything changes  ;) #sythespoils 

"(y/n), please open the door." Anakin implored from outside. I had locked myself in the refresher, studiously avoiding looking in the mirror so I wouldn't have to see myself cry. 

It had been 10 minutes since I locked the door on him, and 8 since he'd started trying to get me out of here. 

Anakin was trying to hide it, but I could hear the frustration in his voice, feel it as it slipped out of his carefully-maintained force-signature, overflowing as water does from a bucket.  Even his knocks were angry; quicker and faster than they had been before.

"I told you. Go away." I said. My voice didn't waver, but maintaing the cadence of my voice was a Herculean feat for me, one that took all of my willpower in my pitiful state.

"(y/n)." 

This time, something was different. His voice sounded defeated, not something I would associate with Anakin Skywalker. In all the times he had tried and failed to get me to open the refresher door, he had never just said my name alone. 

I heard the durasteel thump, like he had thudded against it in resignment. Just as soon, it squeaked, like the person behind it was slowly sliding down. 

"You know." he chuckled dryly, "I thought we were making progress. As friends. Especially after the Ball, I really hoped you wouldn't hate me anymore. But it seems I was wrong, because this situation is not just physical, but metaphorical - you're trying desperately to keep a durasteel wall between us, but all I want is to help you."

Another tear rolled down my cheek.

"You wouldn't understand." I choked out.

"Try me." he said sarcastically. 

Why did his voice sound pained? Unless...

My Master always said to take leaps of faith, and to never turn down someone's help when you really need it, and they mean it. 

Following his teachings was my last promise to him - one I intend to keep. 

Slowly, I waved my hand, opening the door. Anakin had been leaning against it, and fell backwards with a small noise of surprise when it opened unexpectedly.

Wordlessly, I walked over to him - crouching down and offering him a hand.

His eyes were still widened in surprise, like he hadn't actually expected for his plea to work, because he doesn't know that I care much more deeply about him than he thinks. Anakin assumes that I tolerate him, even after the Ball, but he doesn't know that I do care about him, as a friend. And what he said, hit close to home. Not everyone is out to get me.

Still, despite his marvel, Anakin took my hand, clutching it to support him as he sat up. His hands are warm. So warm. Like the sand at the beach on a sunny day underfoot, or a sausage roll fresh out of the oven.

Okay, maybe that's a bad metaphor, but please. They're like furnaces. How come he's so warm? And comforting? And inviting?

I stared into his eyes, and he stared into my eyes, and neither of us moved in this strange, charged moment. Anakin didn't let go of my hand, even if it must have been ice-cold to him, squeezing it even tighter within the heat of his hand. Something did an awkward flip in my stomach, only worsening when he brought his other hand up to my face, wiping the rest of my tears from my face.