Anakin woke up with a gasp, sweating, his heart beating madly. The clock on the nightstand read 4 AM. Great. Another nightmare, just what he needed the night before the exam. He didn't remember anything from his dream this time, though. Not that his dreams made much sense anyway. Knowing well enough that there would be no way to get to sleep now, he got out of bed.

Anakin Skywalker. 23 years old. Student of mechanical engineering. An ordinary life, just like any other's. And that was... well, good. He couldn't really complain. He loved mechanics, and he had worked very hard for several years in a garage to save enough money to pay for the entrance into the university. Mum would have been proud, he thought with the usual twinge of sadness.

He'd only been there for a year, but he could tell how much he loved his degree already. So, he was happy. He should be happy. Not being satisfied with his life would mean that Anakin was a non-conformist, spoilt brat. And Anakin could be many things, but that was certainly not one of them. If anyone knew how difficult life could be, and how hard one should work to achieve things, that was him. So yes, he should be happy and satisfied.

Then why wasn't he? Apart from the obvious, of course.

It's not that he was unhappy either. He really meant it when he said he wasn't a non-conformist spoilt brat, mind you. It was more like... like he should be doing something else. Like he was meant to do greater things. And okay, that did make him sound a bit like a spoilt brat, but he didn't mean it like that. You certainly made it sound like that, Skyguy, a certain friend of his would have pointed out. Oh, shut up, Ahsoka.

Chuckling lightly, Anakin came back from his reverie and finished brushing his teeth. Five o'clock. He didn't know what to do until seven. As sleeping was out of the question (when he woke up from a nightmare it was impossible for him to get back to sleep again), he lay down on the sofa of the living room and began to go over the contents of the exam. Ten minutes later, he had given up on the task already. Anakin loved his degree, but Anakin also hated the theoretical part of it. He was a man of action, always had been.

He lay down completely resting his feet on the sofa. Taking a look at the mess around him, he instantly discarded the idea of getting everything in order so as to kill time. He really wasn't feeling up to it now, besides, it wasn't as if it was going to annoy anyone, given the fact that he lived alone on this small apartment. He ceased looking around when he spotted the photograph on the coffee table, his own blue eyes looking back at him in the rounded little face of an eight year old Anakin. Eyes shimmering with a glee now unknown to them, so bright that it was almost as if it trespassed the glass of the photograph. Of course, the responsible for that was no other than his own mother, next to him in the photo and reflecting a joy as great as his own. What were they laughing at? Anakin couldn't remember anymore. It wasn't fair. He had read somewhere that humans tend to remember happy memories in detriment of the bad ones, but these were but a bunch of lies according to his experience.

And then another photo captured his attention, on the other side of the table. He was seventeen here, and little was left of the small kid of the other photo. However, the liveliness of his blue eyes and the air of mischief on his face were still there, as well as the same delicate features. Another woman was on his side, just a few years older than him, with brown curly hair and eyes the colour of honey. As was the case before, she was also responsible for the joy irradiating in his eyes in the photo; responsible as well for the lack thereof nowadays due to her absence.

Trying to evade from the sour mood that had started to take over him, he started to tinker with some machines he had built himself, increasing the mess in the already messy living room. Working on machines, circuits and all sorts of electronic devices had always been his way of taking his mind off things. It made him forget his problems and anxieties... It helped him focus his mind on the here and now.

"It's outrageous! Just how could they do this?" she asked for the third time.

"Do what?"

"The exam, what else! Such impossible questions...

"Well, I've done it pretty well."

Ahsoka looked at him with a frown on her face.

"But we hadn't even been explained half of the questions!"

"Ah, Snips" Anakin was smiling knowingly and with an air of superiority, "the wisdom of experience can do miracles. You'll understand when you're older."

"You're just three years older than me, you git! And by the way, you have the face of a baby."

"Do not!"

"Oh, yes, you do."

Despite their frequent disputes, (and how utterly annoying she could be when she wanted to), Ahsoka was a great friend. His best friend, actually.

Anakin didn't have many friends. That's not to say he didn't get on with the rest of his classmates —he did. In fact, his confident and humorous nature (as well as his good looks) meant that he was well-liked among them. The fact that he was three years older than the majority of them was not the problem for Anakin: after all, Ahsoka was that age and as mature as him (or maybe it was that they were both equal immature, but that was irrelevant to the matter at hand). The thing was that, to put it shortly, most of his classmates seemed to him a bunch of egotistical snobs, and Anakin would never be friends with that kind of people.

It was a sunny day of October. The two friends were talking in the large and liberating gardens surrounding the campus. They were enjoying the much needed minutes of the lunch break.

"Forget about the exam, Ahsoka. You know what is outrageous?"

"Do enlighten me, you wise old man."

He ignored her sarcastic remark.

"That whole thing of assisting to the classes of another degree. As if we didn't have enough with our actual degrees. What's the sense in that?"

"To learn that even the most dissimilar area of knowledge can give us insight into our own field of expertise so that we can understand it better." In the face of Anakin's odd look, Ahsoka clarified, "Those were the director's words in the gathering".

"Cryptic as ever. Never seen a way of saying so little with so many words."

"That was probably why you fell asleep," she said reproachfully.

"No one saw me" he defended himself. "Well, apart from you. And by the way, the reason I fell asleep was that I was tired. The amount of work in the garage these days is killing me."

But not as much as the nightmares.

Ahsoka demonstrated once more just how well she knew him.

"That was it?" she asked in a somewhat hesitant tone.

"Yes" he replied curtly, "that was it."

Talking about his nightmares, or the past, or whatever Ahsoka wanted to talk about, was the last thing Anakin wanted to do right now.

Ahsoka resumed her conciliatory tone. "So" she said, "to which classes do you have to assist?"

"Something about Literature." Ahsoka laughed at his exasperated tone. "You?"

"Something about Graphical Design."

Anakin choked on his orange juice. "Why is yours much better? That's not fair!"

"Ah, well, you know, Skyguy. The wisdom of experience can do wonders" she quoted him, smiling. "Surely they think that someone as sage as you can overcome the most difficult tasks."

"Very funny."

Anakin, almost breathless, entered the classroom with a muttered apology. The professor ignored him and continued writing on the blackboard. Well, it could have been worse. He just didn't understand how he managed to never arrive on time to places.

It was his first class of English Literature... and he was lost already. He didn't understand half of the terms in the blackboard. You arrived late to the only class you shouldn't.

He thought for a moment that he had entered the wrong class by mistake. I mean, metonymy? What kind of illness is that? But, no, apparently it wasn't an illness, but a rhetorical figure, as he discovered later in the class.

The students were asked to localise the main figures in the poem they had read (or should have read if they hadn't been late like Anakin). He was silently hoping not to be asked, trying to make sense of the many annotations in the blackboard, all the while pretending not to hear a couple of girls behind him whispering about him and trying to get his attention.

Anakin wasn't interested in all that. He hadn't dated anyone since... well, her. And not for lack of admirers, who were mesmerized by his good looks. No, Anakin was simply not interested in anyone around him (had he already mentioned that this university was full of snob, egotistical jerks?). Also, it might be a stupid idea (romantic, as Ahsoka would say), but he hated it when people only wanted him for his looks. He might not have much money, and the many hours he spent at working resulted in not so good academic results, but he was much more than a pretty face. He knew he was clever, and brave, and resourceful; he just didn't have many opportunities to prove it. Adding to that the fact that the only free time he had (that is, when he wasn't at classes or working) he used it to try to catch up with his studies, something as luxurious as love was just not in the cards for him. Not to mention the phantoms of the past: he still wasn't ready to love another. He doubted he would ever be.

But he was digressing, when he should be concentrating on the fascinating world of poetry. So, he tried to actually pay some attention to the question their teacher was asking some student, hoping to pass unnoticed the rest of the class

"What would you say is the meaning of the metaphor in the last stanza?"

When several seconds passed without an answer, Anakin felt really glad not to be the only one who had no clue. But why was everyone looking at him all of a sudden? Oh, shit. The question was meant for him.

"Erm..., I haven't read the poem."

"Of course not. I would be extremely surprised if you had, since you were too busy arriving late while we were reading it".

Anakin hadn't been in that class for too long, but he could tell already how much respect that teacher instilled among the students. He looked strict enough, with his extremely polished clothes and his marked British accent. But Anakin was not one to have ever known cowardice, nor learned when to keep his mouth shut.

"Then why ask?"

A murmur of voices followed his comment, while the professor's grey-blue eyes looked at him not with fury, but with a bored indifference that was far more intimidating.

"You're the student from mechanical engineering, aren't you, Mr...?

"Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker. And, yes, I am."

"Alright, Mr. Skywalker, I'll let you know that bad manners and unpunctuality will not be tolerated in this class. Furthermore, I highly encourage you to at least feign some interest in this subject, for no matter how boring you obviously find it, you may bore us even more. But in that case we'll also be kind enough not to show it." Another murmur, some muffled laughs. And the professor had the nerve to give the hint of a self-satisfying smile after saying that. Anakin had never been so insulted in such an educated way, which irked him even more— he was a direct, honest person. Hypocrisy was something he couldn't stand. This adding to the first impression he had gotten of him, he reached to the conclusion that this professor was just like almost everyone in this University— just another egotistical, snob jerk.

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but, perhaps fortunately, the professor interrupted him. "Stay in class after the lesson is over, Mr. Skywalker." And after that he continued writing on the blackboard with his sophisticated handwriting. Good, Anakin, you couldn't have started any better.

When the class was over, Anakin waited on his desk while the professor was looking through a sheaf of papers. When a good five minutes have passed, Anakin cleared his throat, which finally got the professor's attention.

"My apologies, I had forgotten you were here." Anakin, unimpressed, raised one eyebrow. "Please, have a sit" he said signalling the chair situated in front of his own desk.

Anakin complied, and with an air of resignation, said "So, what's it gonna be?

The professor looked vaguely confused. "Pardon me?"

"The punishment. For arriving late and, well..." Anakin didn't want to admit he had been insolent to him, because he hadn't. He absolutely hadn't. Okay, maybe a little bit. But the guy had deserved it.

He found it slightly funny that he had just referred to this strict, dignified professor with the term "guy" in his head. Although now that he thought about it, he seemed rather young to be a professor. In fact, he looked like just some ten years older than him.

"No, you misunderstand me. I think I talked to you clearly enough before. I hope you have already learned your lesson, and that no punishment will be required."

"Oh." That was unexpected. "Then why am I here, professor...?

"Forgive me, my name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. As to the reason you're here, I merely wanted to know what your notions of literature were."

So that you can ridicule me when I tell you I don't know crap? I couldn't care less about it. Nonetheless, he had to give a somewhat polite answer, lest he started to reconsider his decision on no punishments.

"In that case we'll finish shortly. I have no clue."

"None at all?"

"Zero" he answered proudly.

"That is inconvenient" he said thoughtfully, stroking his beard in a meditative pose. "I don't fully understand the sense of this program, sending students to classes they have no basic knowledge of."

"I agree with you on that, professor. It's just stupid."

"Nevertheless," he continued in a stern tone, "if the directors have decided it, it might turn out to be useful."

Not one to question orders, uh?

"Right, of course" he said unconvinced, trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice but failing to do so, if professor Kenobi's glare was anything to go by.

"Alright, here's what we'll do. Can you come to the university on Tuesdays' afternoons?

Now Anakin was completely out of his depth.

"Um, no, I have to work."

"How about Wednesdays?

"Work also." Professor Kenobi looked at him curiously, but didn't ask anything about it. He was probably wondering just when he got any time to study. The answer to that was pretty simple: almost never.

"When do you not have to work?"

"Thursdays. And the weekends." Mostly. "What for, anyway?

"Perfect, then Thursdays it is, at five o'clock in this classroom. To answer your question, you need to acquire some basic knowledge; otherwise you'll be completely lost in my classes."

Anakin tried not to give away how surprised he was. "And you're just going to waste your time giving me private lessons for art's sake?

"On the contrary, I think we'll waste much less time during normal classes if I don't have to stop the lesson every now and then to explain to you what a metonymy is, to name some example."

Anakin chucked. Perhaps he wasn't that bad after all. "Well, when you put it like that..."

The computer on the table gave a beep. "Oh dear. Give me a second. I don't know what the matter with this blasted thing is." He pressed the keys in the keyboard with no criteria whatsoever, as exasperated as Mr-Calm-Kenobi could get. "Fascinating, it's blocked now..."

"Allow me, professor?" intervened Anakin, who had been watching the whole scene with an amused smile. Ten seconds later, the problem was solved. "There you go."

"Oh. I can see you are good with machines indeed."

"As a matter of fact I am. But this? Any ten year old kid could have solved it."

"Well, one can't be good at everything, can we?" he said somewhat defensively.

"No, I suppose not." Anakin tried to suppress his chuckle— he still could be punished after all. "Gotta go, next class starts in a few minutes. See you then on Thursday, five o'clock?

"What? Yes, yes, that's right" he answered distractedly, all of his attention focused now on some documents on the computer. "Until next Thursday, Mr. Skywalker."

The day seemed to never end. He was exhausted. He brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen on his face and sighed tiredly. After repairing the motor of the last car, he thought he could finally go home and rest a bit. Of course, things could never go his way.

"Ah, boy, where do you think you're going? You still have all these items to look into."

Anakin looked at him, irritated. To say he hated his boss was an understatement. He knew how much Anakin needed the money, and how difficult it was to get a job in a garage in this town. So, naturally, he took advantage of this fact to exploit Anakin, loading him with much more hours of work than he paid him for. Sometimes this job made him feel like a damn slave.

"I've already done the work for today, Watto. These items were not here ten minutes ago."

"But they're here now, kid. An urgency has come, and these clients have paid a lot of money to have this repaired as soon as possible." He shifted his mocked condescending tone to a sterner one. "Always complaining, so ungrateful. So you will have to stay a couple of hours more, so what? No big deal."

"I don't think so, Watto. I am done for today."

"Oh, so I assume you're done with this job already too, then?" He feigned a look of pity, enhancing the ugly features of his face. "Shame, but I'm sure you will find another job as a mechanic in this town soon, Ani."

"You and I both know you wouldn't fire me. You need me for this job." No one else would work as efficiently as him for so low a salary. "And don't call me that."

Watto gave him an unpleasant smile."I think you need this job more than I need you. But we can test this theory, if you want."

What Anakin really wanted at that moment, more than anything, was to leave this damn place and put this poor excuse of a human being in his place. Damn it, he hated the feeling of not being free to do what he wanted. So what if he needed the money—he could find something else. But then he thought of his studies, of how hard he had worked to finally be able to pay the costs of the university. He couldn't risk it. He just couldn't.

"I'll see what I can do" he finally complied, taking a look at those items, hating himself while he said it.

"Excellent choice, Ani!"

"Don't call me that" he grumbled again emphasizing each word.

"Oh, but why not?" he asked with an affected sweetness. "That's how your dear poor mummy used to call you! And that girlfriend of yours as well. Surely the name instils some happy memories in you? Shame that they will never be able to call you that again, unless they do it from their graves!" And he laughed as if that was the funniest joke on the Universe.

That was it. Anakin had had enough. To hell with the money and his studies. That disgraced of Watto didn't have any right to refer to his mother and Padmé in such a mocking way, especially having some idea of how wretched their deaths had left him. Then again, that was probably why he did it. The man took pleasure in making others suffer.

But before Anakin lost his self-control, the coward snake had already fled the room. In retrospect, that was probably the best thing he could have done—Anakin might have regretted his actions later. After all, he truly needed the money.

It wasn't until three hours later that he was completely finished. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, or perhaps Watto's insidious comments, but his head felt as if it was about to explode. He couldn't wait to get to bed and have a much needed sleep. Hopefully the nightmares wouldn't bother him tonight.

Once in his apartment, he let out a breath of relief. It was still messy, with several pieces and wires on the floor, but it was his mess.

He had a cold dinner, brushed his teeth, took a shower, and put on his pajamas, which consisted in just a pair of pants. Once more, the same agonizing routine of everyday. The same feeling that he should be doing something else with his life.

His phone vibrated with a message from Ahsoka.

Ahsoka: How did your literature class go, Skyguy?

Anakin: As if they'd been talking in another language. I would've understood the same.

Ahsoka: lol. Panicked already? And how was Mr. Kenobi? He's known for being strict.

Anakin: Yeah, a bit standoffish. Not so bad, though. He's going to give me some private lessons to explain me the basics.

Ahsoka: That's great! By the way, my class of graphical design went excellent, thanks for asking ;)

Anakin: Piss off, Ahsoka. Don't shove it in my face at least, or I won't help you preparing for the next exam ;)

Ahoska: Not if you want to keep copying my homework haha.

After saying goodbye, Anakin turned his phone off. Now that he wasn't distracted by their jokes, the feeling of forlorn started to overtake him again.

It started pouring down outside, and Anakin came close to the window to see the drops falling through the glass. He was drawn to the rain. For some reason it always had a soothing effect on him, different to that he acquired after fixing things and tinkering with circuits. With the latter he managed to calm down and think clearly; with the former, he managed to not think about anything at all. His mind would fly off somewhere in those moments, only to return afterwards without any recollection of where it'd been, but leaving within him a sense of freedom and hope difficult to describe. He could stay hours like this, just watching, his blue eyes transfixed in the movement of the little drops.

It was still raining when he went to bed. Thunders could be heard from far away, the howling wind resonated in the room, along with the tapping of the water drops on the windowpane. Anakin fell asleep instantly.