Chapter Text
Obi-wan had felt the eyes on him the moment he walked into the diner and the bell above the door went off.
It was a little unnerving how intense the stare was, how he could feel the exact places on his person that the kid’s eyes roamed over, felt the stare following him as he was escorted to a small, isolated booth in the back corner of the diner.
He orders a cup of earl grey tea and resolutely sets his mind on ignoring whoever was staring at him, picking up the menu and debating with himself on what he should order. It was two am in the morning and he had to be up in less than seven hours for his first shift at the ceramics studio, but he couldn’t sleep.
Bouts of insomnia weren’t novel to him, especially when settling into a new town. But this current fit had to be one of the worst, to the point where the walls of his moderate sized one-bedroom apartment felt suffocating and he had to leave or else he would lose his mind.
At first it was just a walk around the corner, but then he somehow ended up on a bus and was riding along aimlessly until the small, non-descript diner caught his attention and he figured, well, a late-night bite to eat never hurt anyone.
At least that was his thought process, until he got to the diner and was met with a stare with the heat of a thousand suns. Honestly, it’s not like there’s anything that noteworthy about him to stare at, and although he’s been referring to the starer as a kid, Obi-wan is pretty sure he’s at least old enough to know how rude it is to stare at someone, especially for this long.
Exasperated, he glances up from the menu to look right back at the starer, but the glare melts right off his face when their eyes connect.
His gaze sweeps over tousled dirty blond hair, full lips, and a soft yet defined jawline framing a somewhat stereotypically attractive face, still round with youth and baby fat. His eyes are a familiarly striking shade of blue. Even the red-faced look of embarrassed curiosity at being caught mid-peep is intimately familiar, the way he blushes and brings his head down only to peek back up at Obi-wan through thick, dark eyelashes.
The feeling of déjà vu is staggering.
I know you, Obi-wan thinks, but then blinks and shakes his head.
He’s never seen this kid before; He’d remember that face for sure. His sleep-deprived mind is playing tricks on him. Add that with his chronic loneliness and apparently his pathetic brain starts trying to convince him that he knows someone that he clearly doesn’t.
A few minutes of determinedly staring at his menu go by when he feels a presence standing over him. He looks up, assuming it must be the waitress coming to take his order but lo and behold, it’s the kid.
Up close, he looks to be in his late teens, maybe early 20s. He’s even more attractive than Obi-wan originally thought, in a boyish, handsomely pretty sort of way, tall and lanky but still muscular, skin tan and golden. But Obi-wan can see the faint blue-black hue of bags under his eyes, the slightly pale-yellow hue of his skin. It seems sleep might be eluding him tonight too. The kid smiles at him, crooked and open with a slightly chipped front tooth that Obi-wan can only see because the kid is so close. Like…really close.
“I’m Anakin.” He says as he slides into the booth across from Obi-wan. The table shakes as he leans forward, hands tucked under his chin.
“I know you.”
“Obi-wan.” Obi-wan replies, staring at the elbows on the table. Anakin blushes, getting the message and removing them, putting his hands in his lap instead but still leaning forward. “And I apologize but I’m afraid you don’t. I’ve never seen you before.” He says, feeling like it’s a lie as soon as the words leave his mouth.
Anakin shakes his head.
“No, I’m sure I’ve met you. I just can’t remember where from.” He snaps his fingers, elbows going back on the table. Obi-wan twitches and leans away from him. “A-ha! Aren’t you in Professor Windu’s ‘History of the Jedi: Rise and Fall of the Republic’ class? Mondays and Wednesdays at 8?”
“I’m thirty-seven.”
“So?”
“So, I’m a bit too old to be in an undergraduate university course, Anakin.” The exasperation feels so uncomfortably and achingly familiar. Fond. As if they’ve had so many discussions just like this one, Obi-wan the ever-patient tutor and Anakin his overeager protégé.
Anakin barges on, unaware (or perhaps uncaring) of Obi-wan’s internal struggle.
“Age doesn’t matter in college. I’ve got a guy in my physics class who’s in his sixties! He’s cool, but he keeps trying to hook me up with his granddaughter.” His nose crinkles. Obi-wan does not like that he finds that adorable.
“I guess you’re right. My apologies, but no I’m not in your class.”
Anakin waves him off. “Have you ever been to Canada.”
“I’ve been to many places.”
“Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”
Obi-wan sighs. “Yes, I’ve been to Canada.”
“Wizard! Which part? I grew up in Ontario, just a little outside of Toronto.”
“I’ve only been to Quebec. I’m sorry.”
Anakin frowns, like he’s disappointed in that answer.
“Well, you have an accent, so I know you’re not American. Are you from Britain or something? And what are you doing out here?”
“Listen I really do apologize but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Obi-wan starts looking around for the waitress, the realization that Anakin had no plans on leaving him alone to eat slowly dawning on him. Suddenly the walls of his apartment didn’t seem nearly as suffocating as being interrogated by this kid and he finds himself eager to get back.
While he’s distracted and desperately signaling for the waitress, Anakin uses that to his advantage and snatches his phone.
“Hey! Excuse me!”
“I’m putting my number in your phone.” Before Obi-wan knows what’s happening, Anakin reaches across the table, grabs his thumb, and then presses it against the phone button, unlocking it against his will.
“What the hell is your problem?” Obi-wan snaps, yanking his hand back. Anakin ignores him, chewing on his bottom lip as he taps furiously at the screen. After a moment, an alert from Anakin’s phone goes off and he grins.
“There! Now we can text each other.”
“I don’t text.” Obi-wan says blankly.
“Oh…well…call then. Yeah, we can talk on the phone. I really like your voice. I wouldn’t mind hearing it in my ear every day.” Anakin smirks at him, one brow raised, and cheeks slightly flushed and he is…is he flirting with him? No…surely not. Obi-wan’s most certainly reading into this the wrong way.
Obi-wan, for probably the first time in his life, is speechless.
“I will no– I don’t thi–,” He sputters.
He blinks a few times, trying to get his bearings and digest the audacity of the fire storm that randomly landed in front of him that was this kid. He’s suddenly struck with the urge to run run get away run and he’s not sure why. There’s just something about Anakin that feels too…vast. Daunting and horrifyingly familiar and Obi-wan knows that if he sat still and listened long enough and opened himself up to it, he might be able to figure out the mystery. Might be able to figure why he feels so drawn to this kid. Fond, guilt, love, patience, suffering, death, death, fire death, pain, so much pain, grief betrayal, hope. A stranger should not be able to evoke such strong emotions just by sitting there and smiling at him. Obi-wan is…he’s just not ready to face this. Whatever this is. He needs to leave.
The waitress has left him for dead and still has not come back to the table, but Obi-wan refuses to sit here for another second. He fishes out enough change to cover the tea and leave a hefty tip, shakily places it onto the table and then makes to leave, forcing a calm into his voice that he doesn’t truly feel.
“Well Anakin. I don’t know if I can say it was nice to meet you, but you’ve certainly made an impression. I have work in the morning so I’m afraid I must make my departure. Please do not call my number or I will block you. Goodbye and good luck in your studies.”
Obi-wan has to restrain himself from laughing at the fish like face that Anakin gives him in response, mouth closing and opening in what Obi-wan can only guess is shock from someone finally putting him in his place.
The sharp chill of the outside air against his uncovered face is a welcome change to the heat of Anakin’s unrelenting gaze. As he treads down the street to the bus stop, Obi-wan almost wants to laugh at the irony of it. He was in such a hurry to leave his crowding apartment that he never considered the possibility of running into something worse than claustrophobia. It was like the age old saying, running from the beast and into the monster. Or something along those lines. He can’t remember where he first heard the phrase.
He checks the time on his watch and then curses, realizing that the buses are no longer running at this hour. He’ll have to waste his money on one of those hellish carpool applications on his phone that Quinlan had forced him to download. He pats his person in search for the device, brows furrowed when he doesn’t feel the familiar bulk of it in his front or back pockets. He barely, barely manages to stifle a groan when the realization hits almost at the exact same time that he hears Anakin’s voice.
“Obi-wan. You left your phone.”
Slowly, he turns around to see Anakin approaching him as if he’s a frightened wild animal, cautious and methodical, one hand extended with the phone and the other up in the air.
Obi-wan laughs. He can’t help himself. This all feels so utterly ridiculous.
He takes the phone from Anakin and thanks him with a small smile, warming at Anakin’s pleased and shy grin.
“I um-” Anakin stars.
Obi-wan looks up when he clears his throat.
“I deleted my number from your phone. And our text exchange.”
Obi-wan frowns. “How did you-”
“I followed the fingerprints you left on the screen and put in your code.”
Obi-wan sighs, exasperated. “Anakin–”
“I know! I know, okay? I’m sorry and you should definitely change your code because I have a feeling it’s someone’s birthday. I just…”
Anakin groans, running his hands over his face and then through his hair, leaving it a mess. Obi-wan has the strangest urge to straighten it back out. He clenches his hands into fists at this side.
“I know you! I know that I know you. I just can’t remember from where and it’s driving me crazy and I…I feel like you know me too.” Obi-wan sucks in a breath. Okay, so maybe Anakin was a lot more perceptive than Obi-wan gave him credit for.
“At least I felt like you did but…I don’t know, I guess you don’t. And sometimes I can get really pushy when I’m stuck on something, ya know? So I could tell you weren’t into it but I really didn’t want you to slip away and figured if you at least had my number you would think about me and reach out. So…yeah. I’m sorry. For bothering you. And for unlocking your phone without permission to give you my number. And then for doing it again to delete my number.” He shrugs sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck and then dropping boneless to his side.
Obi-wan sighs. “Anakin it’s…it’s okay. I forgive you.”
“Oh God…really?” There’s such palpable relief in his voice, as if Obi-wan’s forgiveness is vital to him.
Obi-wan laughs. “Yes, really. Being a bit… brash isn’t the worst thing a person could do.”
He contemplates his next words carefully, hand coming up to stroke his beard. He doesn’t want to encourage Anakin but…he does feel the need to be somewhat honest.
“I’ll admit that you are very familiar to me. But,” He holds up a hand to silence Anakin, who’s eyes had widened almost comically in his excitement, “I know for a fact that I don’t know you. I’ve never met you before. I apologize.”
Anakin pouts but seems to accept his answer.
“Well. Maybe we could get to know each other? If you’d like to?”
Obi-wan pauses. He’s not sure how he feels about that. It’s not that he wouldn’t like to per se, it’s just that something about Anakin feels almost… dangerous. Like if he gets too close, he’ll definitely get burned, no ‘if, ands, or buts’ about it.
Also, he’s not blind. He sees the way Anakin looks at him. The kid switches between looking at Obi-wan likes he wants to devour him whole to hero worship idolization and fondness so intense it’s nearly breath-taking. Obi-wan knows himself, knows the lonely path he’s decided to follow. He doesn’t stay in places long for exactly this reason. It won’t be the same thing for him as it’ll be for Anakin. And Anakin doesn’t seem like the type that lets go easily. But he can’t just say no. Well, okay he could. But he doesn’t really want to.
Later, he’ll blame the decision on his exhaustion and the dream-like surrealness of being awake at a late hour.
“I’ll tell you what,” Obi-wan begins, and Anakin’s eyes practically gleam, nodding his head before Obi-wan even finishes talking, “I’ll take your number. And I’ll think about calling you.”
“Yes!” Anakin agrees immediately. “Yes okay, I like that. I’d love that! Thank you, Obi-wan.”
“Honestly Anakin, there’s no need to thank me.”
He saves Anakin’s contact in his phone and then quickly schedules a ride to come and pick him up, delighted when he gets the notification that it’ll arrive in less than a minute, especially at such a late hour.
“So…” Anakin starts, kicking at a pebble on the ground, “Maybe I could give you a ride home? I always carry an extra helmet with me. Just in case.”
Obi-wan raises a brow. “Helmet?”
“Yeah. For my motorcycle.”
“Right. And you pick up random strangers enough that you’ve decided it’s easier to just carry around an extra helmet.”
“Yeah. Wait, no! I mean, yes kind of, but it’s not like that. They’re not strangers, exactly. Sometimes, I go out with friends and their friends bring friends and they might need a lift home so I –”
“Anakin. I’m kidding.” Obi-wan grins.
“Oh!” He rubs his face sheepishly. “Right, of course you are.” He mumbles.
“I don’t need a ride home but thank you for the offer. In fact, I think that’s my car arriving now.”
He flags over the driver and makes his way to the edge of the sidewalk.
“Wait! Obi-wan.” Anakin reaches out and grabs his hand but then thinks better of it and lets go. There’s a strange chill in the spot that Anakin had just touched. One that Obi-wan almost desperately wants be rid of by Anakin picking his hand back up. That can’t possibly be a good sign, Obi-wan thinks worriedly.
“Will I see you again?” Anakin asks, soft. Hopeful.
Obi-wan stares at him. Takes in his beautiful face, angel-like and delicate in the soft shine of the moonlight.
“I hope so.” He says, really meaning it. The smile Anakin gives him is nearly unbearable.
The ride home is a non-descript blur. Obi-wan goes through the motions of preparing for bed, his mind racing through thoughts but none of them sticking enough to actually pay attention to.
When his head hits the pillow a mere four hours before he has to wake for work, he falls asleep almost instantly for the first time in nearly ten years.
And he dreams.
Vividly.