hurt // obikin au [on hold]

s e v e n

"hey, where's padmé been?" obi-wan questions to anakin, who, big surprise, is in bed. a few days have passed, and they have been disturbingly padmé-free.

"i don't know," anakin mumbles. his eyes are closed, and he's dancing somewhere on the line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"you don't know?"

"i don't know," anakin repeats. it's clear that he doesn't want to talk about it, but it's been awful. it's so weird to be in classes with her, to be so close and not interact. it's even weirder to see her being involved with some dickwad named chad who lives on frat row.

"why don't you know?"

anakin doesn't want to talk about this, so he shuts his eyes tighter, tries to will himself to sleep. sometimes this works -- he can be asleep in minutes, not having to think about anything. it doesn't work now, but that could be because obi-wan won't shut up.

"did you guys have a fight?"

"leave it alone, obi-wan." anakin sounds so tired. tired in his bones. so tired without padmé.

"do you need me to spoon you?" obi-wan asks, voice very soft. he's noticed that anakin has seemed sad, but he didn't know it'd been because he'd had a falling out with his best friend.

"shut up."

"okay, okay, no need to be so whiny. fine, i'll cuddle with you," obi-wan responds, voice weary. though he's annoyed, it still makes anakin laugh. "you suck at cuddling."

"it can't be considered cuddling if only one person is doing the cuddling," anakin points out.

"that's your fault. i'm a great cuddler."

"that's still to be determined."

"if you'd just participate, the world could finally know."

anakin hesitates, thinking. "yeah, okay."

obi-wan laughs. "finally, it's finally getting gay."

"shut up," anakin snaps, kicking the blankets down so he can face the same direction as obi-wan. with some uncharacteristic hesitation, obi-wan puts an arm around the younger boy's waist and pulls him against his chest. anakin goes stiff, not liking being touched, but obi-wan doesn't relent, knowing he'll loosen up eventually.

"are you okay? do you want me to stop?" obi-wan asks gently. he's so close to anakin that when he speaks, his lips brush his shoulder. the sensation makes anakin shiver, a small laugh falling from his lips.

anakin hesitates again. he doesn't like that he likes this. "n-no, um..." he clears his throat. "it's okay. i'm okay."

obi-wan nods. this is something not to make fun of anakin for, he can tell, so he changes the subject. "so how did you choose your major?"

anakin is surprised, not having expected this at all from obi-wan. "huh?" he sputters.

"how did you pick your major? it's something with film, right?"

anakin nods slowly. "yeah. uh, screenwriting."

obi-wan hums in response, and anakin can feel the vibration in his chest. it's not at all unpleasant. "why screenwriting?"

"i...i always liked it, i guess. i wrote a lot as a kid, you know, just for fun, and i was in a lot of plays. i learned pretty quickly i didn't like being in them so much as i liked writing them...so i started doing that. it's...it's not very realistic, i know, which drives my mom insane...but my heart is there." this is the most anakin has probably ever said to obi-wan.

obi-wan nods. "i think that's really cool. it's important to do what makes you happy, you know? like, it's your life."

anakin fights back a smile. "what's your major? i never even asked." he feels a twinge of guilt at that and fights it down.

obi-wan shifts in the bed and anakin actually lets out a small whine when they're no longer touching. his face goes thermonuclear, and he just knows obi-wan is smirking even if he can't see his face. "i'm an education major. pre-k to third grade," he answers, wrapping his arm back around anakin's waist.

"you like kids?"

"love 'em. they're so smart, you know? like, i made it to university because i had a great teacher. i want to be that for someone else."

anakin's heart melts in his chest. "i think you'd be a great teacher," he says honestly.

"yeah?" obi-wan is smiling; anakin can hear it.

"yeah." anakin is smiling, too. "your cuddling is all talk, though. you're shit at this."

"well, you're a shitty small spoon!"

"how can i be a shitty small spoon!? all the small spoon does is lay there!"

"anakin, your spine is ramrod straight. you're clearly uncomfortable. relax. i'm not gonna bite you. or touch you. unless you ask me to."

anakin lets an ounce of tension ooze out of his spine. "do you promise?"

"cross my heart or whatever the fuck it is."

anakin laughs, and softens. his death grip on the sheets loosens, and his spine curves, melding to meet obi-wan's chest.

"that's it," obi-wan coos gently, but it isn't condescending. the kind sound of his voice relaxes anakin further, though he'd never admit it. obi-wan's arm, still around anakin's waist, rubs at his hip affectionately. "see? isn't so bad."

"yeah," anakin admits, hating that he likes it. "maybe it isn't."