Underneath It All
–
There's times when this dress rehearsal
Seems incomplete
But you see the colors in me
Like no one else
And you're really lovely
Underneath it all
And you want to love me
Underneath it all
I'm really lucky
Underneath it all
You're really lovely
–
Anakin and Padme sat on the couch; their bills were papers between their after-supper-coffee mugs. The sky had turned purple; the orange tint in the sun grew paler, settling over the coffee table, darkening its grainy wood surface. A small, blue vase stood atop. A vase of wilted flowers, escaping, in search of freedom.
That was how they felt, both positioned on the edge of the love-seat, reading this moment as a stepping stone, praying for a better future.
"Did you pay the rent?" Padme asked, waiting to check off the list on her lap. Anakin grunted in agreement, a 'yes' hidden behind a still face, but exposed like glass. They'd had their fair share of lucky strikes, but they knew by the end of this month, finances could pile up. The sun had set—literally and metaphorically.
Anakin was trying not to let himself get to that stage of hauling the hefty troubles over his shoulder in an obvious way. He'd carry them as discreetly as he could, not wanting Padme to stress herself or the babies. It was more than a nice gesture, he felt it was a responsibility, an exercise.
One he needed to feel. . .needed.
"Water?" Padme went down her list, simple and straightforward, meditative and friendly. That meant he was doing his job. She was relaxed in her first trimester... so the babies were relaxed.
"Yeah." He mumbled.
Then the lightbulbs went out. And their eyes followed the wink of light fading to black.
"Electricity?" Padme jumped to the next item on her list with a smirk. She knew Anakin's face would be replaced by dark shadows, as reality grew large and looming.
Anakin couldn't see Padme's sparkling face or playful eyes but he knew they were pretty, sunshine and rainbows even when the evening was raining down on them; darkness was drooping and chipping away at his calm.
Padme lit an emergency candle on the side table – it was a good thing Anakin hadn't thrown away all his lighters. The candlelight was smoky, glistening splinters hung by a thin thread into the ether.
An uprising of creepy triggers shredded his confidence when Padme brought up that thing again. That thing that she often cloaked in light-hearted banter.
"Look, we can always ask my parents for a little help. They won't mind."
His quick temper rose and fell with a conscious breath. As he stuffed his thoughts, the careless and hopeless ones, back in. A large intake of oxygen and motherlode of insecurities sucked back in with that one inhale.
"We talked about this." He stood up, and his energy was exemplified with his back turned, edgy, grumpy.
Padme felt worn down by the constant struggle of man. Pride comes before the fall. As they say, pride is the crutch of the insecure. "How come it's okay to ask Obi-Wan for a handout?"
YOU ARE READING
A Love Story
RomanceJust your average rom-com. Until it's not. | LoveHateFearAngerJealousyPassionObsession | Anakin and Padme (Modern AU)