Anakin Skywalker Imagines

Meet Me In The Hallway

•Based off of the song 'Meet Me In The Hallway' by Harry Styles. Pt. 1 out of 2.

•Warnings: angst.

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Anakin pressed his ear up against the cold, durasteel door that led into his apartment on Coruscant, hearing bellowing voices of laughter come from the inside, followed by streams of small conversations that were muddled by the exterior of the door.

She's having guests over, again? He thought, rolling his eyes. He turned away from the door, knowing his routine. Usually, whenever his wife would bring colleagues home from work, he would just turn away and make his way back to the Jedi Temple on a speeder and just spend the rest of the day there until her guests had left. He hated the secrecy, but her colleagues couldn't know that a Jedi, much less, Anakin Skywalker, claimed this apartment home.

He turned away to walk back down the hall like he usually did, although, he couldn't help but think of how all the secrecy was damaging your relationship.

For a year now, you both had been separated for long periods of time. It wasn't necessarily his fault, or he hoped, but it was the simple combination of not being able to see one another that burned a hole in the fabric of your very relationship.

He could tell that you were slowly drifting away, and for the time that you were together, he felt like you were becoming more and more of a stranger as time went on.

Anakin knew it wasn't just his fault, but he couldn't help but blame himself. Why couldn't he be there for you? Why couldn't he just leave the Jedi Order for you? Why couldn't he be the husband that you needed him to be? To be there for you? To hug you, and tell you that everything's gonna be okay? But he couldn't, he knew he couldn't, because of this idiotic, galactic war that kept him from coming home to you.

He even felt distant from you. He hated to admit it, but he felt like he was being pulled from you almost every day like someone was taking him away from you. He hated it.

Almost every time he had a chance to come home, he always felt like he could run into your arms and sweep you off of your feet in a matter of seconds, but yet, when he entered through the door and actually saw you, he could hardly bring himself to do it because he felt like he didn't know you anymore.

Although he would try desperately to try and save your relationship, truly he did. He would always sit down and ask about your day, or kiss you goodnight, or just talk about anything in general, but it always ended up blank, with no resolution. It was just awkward silence or poking at your food at the dinner table. He tried to save it because he loved you. He did, and still does, but he wasn't sure about the way you felt.

He could read your mind, and sense your emotions, but not really. He couldn't sense your deepest desires in your heart--things you kept hidden away from him, locked away in a cell in your mind. He just wasn't sure about the way you felt, and once again, he continued to blame himself for being such an awful husband.

I'm tired of this secrecy, his mind was racing with thoughts about walking straight in front of that group of politicians, and telling you how much he loved you, and how much he misses kissing you and touching you, how much he misses talking to you--he would spill his guts right there, right on to the floor, but he knew he would risk both of your jobs right then and there, and he didn't want to do that. Though, there was something else inside of him that was telling him otherwise.

With his heart thudding against his chest, he decided that he's had enough of this secrecy and that he's had enough of the lies, all of the deception--he was going to end it, today, and save your relationship all in one day. He knew it. He was the hero, after all. The Hero With No Fear is what they called him.