I should be sleeping, but I was listening to Lorde’s sober (it’s excellent) and got inspired to write some more obikin. Here you go!
Anakin is in his bed again, his blond hair draped around him like a halo and his breaths deep and calm. Obi-Wan’s head is about to burst from the light, but he stares at him as long as he can bear before closing his eyes again. He’ll be gone soon enough.
He has disappeared when he wakes up again, leaving nothing but a warm spot in the bed and a memory behind. His smell is left behind, his sweat and cologne and shampoo and Obi-Wan tries not to linger, pretends to want to take that shower and wash his smell off and not remember him, but he remembers him, even if his hangover tells him he shouldn’t, he remembers the flashes of his body against him and the taste of his lips and the sound of his voice.
‘Come back,’ he whispers to the empty room. ‘Anakin. Come back.’
He doesn’t. Not until the next weekend, till the next blur. This time he wakes up in Anakin’s bed, wondering if he should go before he wakes up. They don’t talk, they never talk sober and only whisper dirty secrets into each other’s ears when they’re drunk. In the morning he should be gone. A rule, unspoken, unwritten and despised.
His feet land on the cold floor, the room only illuminated by the thin beam of sunlight escaping from the thick curtain. His head hurts. His clothes are all over the room, one sock under the bed and one by the door. Even if he’s not quiet, even if Anakin hears him, he’ll pretends he doesn’t. The game starts again as soon as he’s closed the door behind him.
It ends today.
Obi-Wan sits down on the bed and waits. He waits, can’t help but be nervous, can’t help but stare at Anakin’s sleeping form and listen to his breathing and remember last night and wonder, forever wonder what could be. He could leave still, unbreak the broken rule, save what he can. But Anakin wakes up, slowly, but surely.
‘Obi-Wan?’ he asks. You’re still here?, he doesn’t ask.
‘Yes.’ He forces a smile. ‘Good morning.’