When I break in the middle of the night, my demons are the ones that hold me tight, preventing me from falling apart. They don’t run when I unfold my heart. They guide me and teach me how to be a burning light in the midst of darkness.
Sometimes when Anakin
wants attention he’ll just plop his head down in Obi-wan or Padme’s lap
with a fistful of hair ornaments.
Obi-wan prefers the little
golden clips and beaded combs because they’re practical and help keep
Anakin’s shaggy hair out of his eyes.
Padme just likes running
her hands through the strands and finger combing them until he gets
drowsy, though on some days she’ll try out a new up-do or braid pattern
on him. He’ll keep it until it falls out naturally, going about his day
with a sailor fishtail or a five strand marriage knot as if it’s how he
does his hair every day.
It’s that time again, Obi-Wan thinks, as Anakin plops his head down his lap. His braids, skillfully done by Padmé – days ago, are falling out, so it’s Obi-Wan’s turn now to do his hair. He doesn’t really have time now, there are reports to be finished up, but Anakin’s smile as he’s looking up from his lap is irresistible.