Chapter Text
Back on Tatooine, Anakin Skywalker hadn’t had so much a bedroom as a storage closet which also contained his bed. His assigned room at the Jedi temple is easily three times as large, yet somehow simultaneously three times less comforting. It has a window, out of which can be seen several anonymous buildings and the arching lines of speeder traffic in the distance. It also contains a sleeping pallet, and a small wardrobe within which the few sets of padawan robes he had been fitted for on Naboo were kept. The walls were bare and a pale cream, broken only by said wardrobe and the door exiting out into the shared living space he now avoids with Master Obi-wan.
When he had made the decision to come to the temple and train to be a Jedi, he had known it was going to be hard work. He had learned later, standing in front of the council, that there were going to be those who opposed his presence here, just because he was different. It hadn’t occurred to him, in that moment or any other before the death of Qui-gon Jinn and the subsequent transfer of his training to Obi-wan, that the people who wouldn’t accept him were all of them.
He hadn’t expected to feel so alone.
He couldn’t change the Jedi. A few snide comments from the younger padawans aside, they were nothing but distantly polite to him, helping if he asked, redirecting if he got lost, and being calmly reserved in the face of his many and varied mishaps. Still, he couldn’t help the feeling they were judging him, somewhere behind those identical blank facades. Even Obi-wan, who he saw far more often than any other Jedi, rarely slipped in his portrayal of perfect Jedi-hood. If he hadn’t seen him in the aftermath of Naboo, still far too shaken in his grief to pretend anything, then he might have felt himself alone in this. As it was, he felt unwilling to push.
Lonely or not, his presence here hinged on Obi-wan’s insistence in training him. If the man felt no need to reach out to Anakin, then Anakin was not going to reach back. There was too much at stake, he would simply have to cope with what he was feeling by himself. He couldn’t risk Obi-wan deciding the Council was right not to train him after all.
He would just have to change one of the few things he did have control over, namely his room. Obi-wan never came in, preferring to knock then wait for Anakin to join him in the living area, and therefore even if redecorating was against the rules - and he’d never bothered to find out whether this was true or not - no one would ever see what he’d done anyway. The only difficulty would be in sneaking everything in, and not making enough noise that Obi-wan would come and investigate.
His first task was finding something to decorate with. For people who’d apparently been around thousands and thousands of years, the Jedi sure hadn’t managed to accumulate much stuff. Anakin was only nine, but his room back at his mum’s place had been so full that there almost hadn’t been enough room to fit in any Anakin.
Surely, he thought, they must get given a ton of stuff from people grateful for having their world saved. It must just be locked away somewhere that Anakin hadn’t seen yet. He’d just have to find it.
Unfortunately, going searching the temple for cool stuff without Obi-wan noticing was not an easy task. For all their tendency to avoid each other, the man had sharp and suspicious ears.
“Going out?” asked Obi-wan, like Anakin wasn’t standing halted halfway though their front door. He thought quickly, but could think of no legitimate reason to be doing what he was doing. Obi-wan knew his schedule, and that he was yet to make any friends in the temple. He’d just have to settle for a ‘not as illegitimate as what he’d actually been intending to do’ reason. He pouted, in the vain hope it had started working on Obi-wan any time since he’d last tried it.
“Just going to check out the maintenance bay, since I couldn’t sleep,” he said. The pout didn’t seen to have gained any efficiency since it was last deployed, so he slipped it in to a slightly worried smile instead. Obi-wan didn’t look too annoyed, but then he didn’t look like he was going to let things go either. His right brow had risen just slightly, and beneath the beard he’d been trying to grow his mouth thinned. If anything, Anakin thought he looked a mix between disbelieving and regretful.
“Anakin,” he began, reaching down to grab hold of Anakin’s collar and gently tug him back inside, “I realise I haven’t exactly been approachable these last few months-” Obi-wan, Anakin had noticed, had quite the gift for understatement. He let himself be led to the couch, and sat down next to Obi-wan. “-But I hope,” Obi-wan continued, “That you know you can talk to me about anything that’s been bothering you.”
Anakin only just managed to reign in his disbelieving stare before it could make it’s way to his face, instead just settling for blinking stupidly. He hadn’t even told his mom everything that was bothering him, why would he tell the man who’d spent the better part of six months pretending he didn’t exist.
“It’s nothing, Master,” he said, doing his best to sound sincere. He was pretty good at it, because he’d had to be. “I just get restless sometimes, and going and fixing something helps calm me down.”
“Oh,” said Obi-wan. Anakin knew that this fit in with everything else his Master knew about him, and would explain the several occasions Obi-wan had had to hunt him down and drag him out bodily from the Maintenance bay when there were things he really didn’t want to be doing elsewhere. Meditation practice with three year olds was the worst, especially as it was usually taught by Master Yoda.
“How about,” said Obi-wan, “the next time you’re feeling restless, you come and find me and we’ll go to the maintenance bay together. I may not have your gift with machines, but I can be pretty handy when I want to.” Obi-wan gave a tentative smile, and Anakin realised, maybe for the first time, that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t really know what he was doing. Sure, you’d never get the man to actually admit it, but he was on unfamiliar ground too. Talking about it before now might have helped, though.
“Sure,” he said, sounding as stunned as he felt. He’d have to find another way to track down all the loot the Jedi must have stashed away, but maybe Obi-wan might be less likely to interfere if he saw Anakin as an ally rather than an unexpected burden. “Can we go now?”
Obi-wan actually properly smiled at that, a sight Anakin realised he’d never seen before. On the flights between Tatooine and Coruscant, then Coruscant and Naboo, Obi-wans primary emotion had appeared to be peevishness. After, he’d just been sad. Anakin found Obi-wan didn’t look quite so intimidating like this, and scooched towards him on the couch just a little.
“Certainly, if it will help you relax. I realise you’ve been having trouble with meditation, perhaps it’s time we started trying some alternatives,” said Obi-wan.
“Instead of meditation?” he asked, perking up, suddenly very hopeful. Any reprieve from hours of failing to do what the three year olds around him found so easy would make Obi-wan his friend possibly forever.
“As well as, I’m afraid,” said Obi-wan, clasping him on the shoulder as he sagged. “But I’m sure your classes with Master Yoda will see results soon, if we can get you in the right frame of mind in other ways.”
Still, it was better than nothing. And perhaps once he’d decorated his room, he and Obi-wan would be good enough friends that he could show him and they’d spend time in there together. Depending, of course, that Obi-wan wasn’t lying when he called himself pretty handy with machines.