•Based off of the song, 'From the Dining Table' by Harry Styles.

•Continuation of 'Meet Me In The Hallway' pt. 2/2

•Warnings: masturbation, angst.

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Anakin Skywalker woke up in his quarters, surrounded by the dim morning light that streamed through the blinds. He squinted his eyes at the blinds, he sat up and used his arm to shield his sensitive eyes to the light. He examines the cloudy sky for what seemed like the hundredth time, trying to get used to his new surroundings.

Not that the Coruscant sky was new, but simply the fact that he wasn't asleep in his apartment anymore, where he would wake up and see your magnificent face every morning, but instead back in his quarters in the Jedi Temple.

It was the same routine every morning, for about a year now, he'd wake up, expecting your presence to be there--that presence. That soothing presence, that always kept him at bay, that would always keep him at peace--it was gone. Just like that, in a simple conversation, you were gone, taken away from him.

He shook his head, trying to clear those drastic thoughts away from his head, those thoughts of your face, your smell, your touch, your voice--damn it. There he was again, reminiscing on you when Obi-Wan had told him several times to not dwell on the past, he couldn't help it. You were always there. He still loved you with every fiber in his being, yet, you had continued with the divorce anyway--the relationship had seriously gotten too toxic, you could hardly be in the same room with one another without breaking into a fight. He hated the fighting, but he still loved you.

When the divorce happened, Anakin went back to the Temple and told Obi-Wan everything that happened after Obi-Wan had kept asking what Anakin had been down about. Anakin found comfort in his old master, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and Obi-Wan of course kept his secret, and was now giving guidance to Anakin on controlling his feelings.

Anakin threw the covers off of him, his eyes drew down to the brown pants he wore, a feeling of disappointment washed over him as he huffed, seeing his member pressed up against the fabric of his pants. Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, trying to decide if he should partake in this sinful nature that Obi-Wan had advised him against--would he let himself seep down into the thoughts of his past? His fingers traced thoughtfully over the raised fabric of his pants, contemplating. The pleasure would take his mind off of the negative thoughts, but then it could throw him into another depressive spiral.

His fingers continued to trace over it, sending gentle, comforting vibrations through his body. It was something he hadn't felt in so long, the feeling felt so foreign to him, yet welcoming. He pursed his lips together as his reluctant thoughts became mindless, letting his emotions cloud his judgment, he slips his hand under his pants and wraps his flesh hand around his stiff member; already smeared with the disgraceful liquid.

Anakin closes his eyes, letting his mind slip away into the past, into his memories of you, of your years spent together, of sleepless nights, of nights running his fingers through your hair, of nights of your smiling, your laughter, your excitement that filled your eyes, of moments that would bring him utter happiness, and sheer joy--or would expect to bring joy, anyway.

The sudden rush of memories brimmed his mind, frustrated groans escaped the Jedi as he tried fighting back the tears. He had wondered after all of this time, after everything, why you would just leave him? Where were you? Where were your promises, your vows? Were they nothing but vague memories, disappeared into nothingness? Or were they still there, lingering in the back of your mind?

He shook his head, his lips pursed together, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to remove the image of you from his mind while his hand flew fluidly against his skin, trying to get rid of old memories that plagued his current state.

Just let me feel good, for once, he prayed, wanting to feel something else other than pain that he had been experiencing for the past year.

Though, no matter how much he tried, his mind would always flash back to painful images of you, as if it was trying to punish or shame Anakin for indulging in such agonizing affairs.

Tears began to slip from Anakin's eyes, sliding down the Jedi's cheek as if they were teasing, or mocking him for being unable to find pleasure in something that seemed so easily doable, or they were mocking him for being weak, for not being able to push back those painful memories of you.

Anakin let out pitiful groans and sobs, his mocking thoughts seemed to seep into his mind, like broken glass, seeping into the skin, slowly, grinding away at the flesh that would keep him intact and keep his organs from rupturing--these poisonous thoughts would lead to doing the same.

Hopelessly, he flops back on to the bed, unable to reach his orgasm thanks to the poisonous thoughts, he retrieves his hand from his pants, a loud, frustrated groan emits from the man who lied on his bed, feeling utterly and completely broken.

He felt so weak, and so lost. He wasn't sure how he was going to recover from this heartbreak--he hadn't felt human ever since it happened.

Anakin pressed his palms into his eyes as if he were trying to push back the tears that kept falling freely, however, his skin on his hands just seemed to absorb the melancholy waterfalls. It was like his body was trying to tell Anakin's he'd need those tears for later. Even his cold, lifeless hand seemed to keep the tears in their place. For something so lifeless, it seemed to keep reminding him of the images full of your vitality.

Anakin had remained there for a while, silently crying with the occasional whimpers until he had no more tears left to cry. His face had dried up, tear-stained cheeks full of a red tint from sobbing, while he stared blankly at the ceiling, his chest felt dense and heavy, his throat clenched from holding in loud, painful sobs. Everything hurt, but yet, he felt numb to it; like he accepted the pain.

He lied there motionless, mind blank. Blue, hopeless eyes kept their focus on the beige ceiling above him. He could feel his breathing come to a slow, his body reveling in the feeling of being numb. His eyelids fluttered, his wet eyelashes stuck together, his breathing letting out slow exhales followed by slow inhales, repeating over and over again until he could feel his consciousness start to fade away, enveloping himself into a numbing, empty feeling. With his heart coming to a slow, he finally closed his eyes, falling back into a depressive sleep, drunk off of the numbing feeling his mind had offered to him to replace that agonizing pain.

Then, unfortunately, Anakin had to wake up from that feeling. He had been brought back into the real world, where his old master Obi-Wan had come into Anakin's room and had to wake him up, concerned that he wasn't answering his comlink.

Obi-Wan's concerns were thoughtful and compassionate, yet Anakin just shrugged them off with simple answers, refusing his real emotions to come to light. His tears were buried beneath the pile of broken glass that had sat in his chest--he didn't want to bring them back out. He liked this numb state, he was sure that it wasn't healthy, but he liked it. It was better than thinking straight or thinking at all. It was better than having memories collapse back into his mind, or sinful desires to be encouraged.

He felt like it was better to be empty than to feel.

Throughout the day, Anakin had completed tasks in the Jedi Temple mindlessly and carelessly. He would dismiss himself from conversations easily, getting bored of the constant chatter that would want to tear away at his numb state. People would laugh and joke, but it felt like it made him feel the need to express emotion, it felt like they were mocking him for being unable to do so--and so, he had left those conversations, devoid of everything that had to do with feeling.

Thankfully, his day was almost over with to where he could return back to his bedroom and hopefully lie there until further notice. However, there was one more task that he needed to complete.

This task involved going to the senate to inform Chancellor Palpatine of their tracking on Grievous--and Anakin wasn't prepared to go. He wasn't prepared for the possibility of seeing you, or even hearing your voice, or seeing those dazzling eyes of yours.

However, it wasn't like he could just walk up to the Council and ask them to remove him from the task because then they'd ask him what's wrong, and, being depressed over the love of my life, wouldn't be a good answer.

But thanks to what was left of Anakin's willpower, he stuck it out and entered the Senate building, where he was greeted by familiar faces who walked in and out, shaking hands with the solemn Jedi who feigned smiles left and right, shrugging off questions about how he was doing or why they hadn't seen him around as often.

Anakin quickly made his way around the building, shoving past crowds of people, keeping his head low, speedily trying to arrive at his destination. The Chancellor's office never seemed so far away.

"Hey! Master Skywalker!"

Not again, he thought, an annoyed thunder rolled in his mind. Nevertheless, his kindness never seemed to fail him, so he turned around to the voice that called out to him, a familiar, sturdy, lean, senator appeared in front of him, his arms stretched out in greeting.

"Good to see you, my good man!" He chuckles, approaching the Jedi, sticking his hand out for Anakin to shake.

Anakin grips his hand and shakes it, giving the senator a tight smile. "Good to see you, Senator Oler. "

"How goes the war on the front?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

This must've been the fifth time Anakin's been asked about the war, but he sighs, continuing to entertain the senator anyway. "It's going great, as always, Senator.

"Y'know, I always..."

As the senator talked, Anakin couldn't help but sense that something was off about him. It was something, something familiar. He felt something, like a reminder, it was something so familiar, though he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Anakin began to examine the senator, looking at his long grey, thick, fabric robes that draped to the floor that crossed his body over a nice, white, button-up shirt that was smoothed down and tucked under his grey pants, his collar--

His collar.

Anakin squinted, looking at the collar of his shirt, he notices a small, faded, red lipstick stain that was planted on the pure fabric.

Now he knew what was so familiar--it was the shirt. That was his shirt, because that was your lipstick stain. It was in the exact same spot you had left it and tried several times to wash it out, but clearly, to no avail, you couldn't get it out.

Anakin remembered that after the divorce, he decided to leave all of his clothes (other than his Jedi robes) to you, simply because he thought he wouldn't need them anymore. Now, the question was, why in the world--

No. You hadn't moved on already, how could you? You were together for three years--until your relationship started to get toxic--how could you have moved on within one year already?

Anakin stood there, looking at the senator who stood in front of him, yapping his mouth off that Anakin didn't care to listen to. Rage simmered inside of him, his fists slowly coming to a clench, his throat becoming painfully tight--he wanted nothing more than to rip that shirt off of him and to yell in his face that it didn't belong to him, and most importantly, that you didn't belong to him.

Anakin zoned back into the conversation, his attention now on his so he could give the senator a piece of his mind, that was until he said something.

"And of course (Y/N)..."

Anakin's eyes widened, his heart seemed to come to a stop, his fists released themselves of the tension they once held.

At this second, as soon as those words left the senator's mouth, all time seemed to come to an end, leaving Anakin at a crossroads. His heart beat against his chest, pounding at an incredulous speed. It was so stupid at how your name could stop all of Anakin's thoughts, all of his emotions, all of his pain, his anger, his hate--instead, it brought back that numbing feeling, a feeling of peace.

"(Y/N)?" Anakin questioned subconsciously, the words fumbled out of his mouth clumsily.

The senator stopped mid-sentence and rose an eyebrow. "Yes? What about her?"

Anakin blinked, his mind snapped back to reality after he realized what he'd done. It was too late now. Now he had to ask about her. "I uh... I haven't seen her in a while, I was just curious as to how she was doing."

Senator Oler's face lit up, a bright smile appeared on his lips, reminding Anakin about how he used to feel at the mention of your name. "Oh, she's great! Yeah, she's just fine. "

Anakin swallowed--a sad smile formed on his lips, even though it was unintentional, he felt like he couldn't express his deep emotions any other way. "That's good to hear."

Senator Oler had spoken once again, but Anakin couldn't help but tune him out, due to a sudden familiar feeling he felt in the Force. His senses were weak, due to the fact that he hadn't been using them as much as he should (simply because of his depressive state), but he knew this feeling--it was all too familiar.

He could feel his heart pound against his chest, his ribcage seemed to tighten around his beating heart, clenching at the emotions he didn't want to spill out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her approach, coming back into his life once again, just like that--she had made Anakin's feet sink into the ground as if he were stuck in a block of cement. Just like that, she had Anakin's heart in her hands again, her eyes completely trapped his soul, binding him to her as if he were some sort of familiar.

"Oh!" Senator Oler gasped, turning around to her as she tapped him on the back jokingly. She used to do that to me. "(Y/N), we were just talking about you!"

She smiled that gorgeous smile of hers, her pearly white teeth glistened, but not for Anakin, no. It was for the senator, the senator who had made her happy. Not Anakin. But him.

He could feel his feet sinking into the cement even further as he continued interacting with them.

"Were you? What were you saying?" She chuckles, running her hand up and down his arm, while Anakin watched longingly. Anakin's eyes were void of joy or happiness at that moment, but instead a bleak, deep blue covering the suffering in his irises.

"Oh I just happened to mention you, and he asked how you were doing, and then I told him you were fine, but that's about it, really, " he said, taking a hand and bringing it up to her face, caressing her cheek ever so gently.

Anakin could probably break down right then and there--oh how he missed swiping his thumb across her supple skin while looking directly into those soft eyes of hers, how he would lean down and kiss her on her forehead, how he would wrap his arms around her waist and comfort her--the cement was slowly climbing up his legs now, it felt as though he could be swallowed into a numb state forever. The cement would provide for that, surely.

He was so happy. He was so content, but what happened? Anakin still was unsure as to how everything had become so unhealthy all of the sudden, but whatever it was, he felt so sorry. He was sure it was his fault, what had you done wrong? You could never do anything wrong in his eyes.

He looked up at her and for a split second, their eyes met, an overwhelming and understanding wave of sadness crashed over them--for a second, that familiar, lost bond had returned, completely and totally reminding them of who they were, reminding them of what was and how things used to be, bringing back old, diluted memories that were once trapped in a cell in their minds, aching to break free from their bars. They felt like in an instant, they could say sorry to one another, to apologize and make up, and that, this, they understood.

Just that like that, that second was gone, their eyes flitted away from one another, looking down, that reconnected bond had now faded away, the waves crashed back down on to the shore, seeping away into the sand. Now, they had felt like they could stand there in comfortable silence, completely understanding each other of their feelings.

Nothing needed to be said. They both knew about the way they felt about each other. Anakin still longed for her, and of course, she knew this, and she was content with it. She still longed for him too, but what she had told Anakin in that brief second was something that couldn't be repeated or shared--but only between the two of them that they knew, only between the two of them did they figure out how to remove the seeping cement that gathered at their legs, and how to calm the beating of their hearts. They knew.

They needed no further explanation or map--their years of understanding one another had provided that key. They just unlocked it themselves.

At this moment, they were understanding, standing in comfortable silence, complaisant with their beings.

The couple bowed to one another, removing themselves from the situation--Anakin returning to his duty while she had returned to hers--each of them walking away, the cement had completely vanished now, their hearts coming to a slow, a small smile crept upon each of their faces.

In that second they were at peace.

At peace, they had remained.