disclaimer: i own nothing.
a/n: oh god, Obi. ah, i love him so much and i want to hug him so bad. also, is 'master' and 'mistress' supposed to be capitalized? oh well, tell me if it's not.
. . .
Whenever he looks at her now, there would no longer be indifference.
His insides would squirm, his eyes would shift more than usual and there would this… strange lingering feeling. It isn't unpleasant, surprisingly, but it irks him to no end because he does not know what it is.
(Lastly, he would crave for her smile because it is beautiful, vibrant and sincere—)
Obi hates not knowing, not understanding.
Especially when it is about himself.
. . .
Drowning.
It is a word that could describe how he feels.
He had known all too well that his Master and Mistress were in love.
(Honestly, those love birds. Did they really think that it had been unnoticeable? The touches, the smiles, the red cheeks were all too damn obvious.)
And it hurts.
It hurts when they held hands and spoke of soft words that they would only utter to each other.
He drowns when he sees them and he realizes he has fallen for whom he's never supposed to fall for.
. . .
He eats apples nowadays and teases her whenever she catches him eating them.
She would ask why he likes them now and he would answer her by saying that her hair always reminds him of apples. She would blush then laugh because he eats them for such a silly reason.
Odd, he laughs along with her for the fun of it but he does not feel mirth, instead emptiness that he couldn't quite ignore.
It's not silly at all, really.
There is one apple he could not attain for the fruit had fallen into somebody else's hands.
Too late, too late.
. . .
He likes Zen.
(If not, he wouldn't call him his Master. Much less serve under him.)
That is why— he suspects— he couldn't summon enough (any) anger, bitterness, hatred or any other ugly, ugly feelings that would make his face scrunch up in disgust towards himself when Zen would cross his mind.
Jealousy, on the other hand, is there. He knows this because there is a sharp tinge of unhappiness when he thinks about his Master but it had never surpassed that point. He sees friendship, laughter, teasing and colourful moments he had always thought it was impossible for the likes of him to possess whenever he faces him instead.
He couldn't hate himself for it.
(The times he spent with them? He loves every single one.)
But most of all, he thinks that Zen— strong, brave, honest— and her are a perfect match.
While he truly doesn't deserve her.
. . .
Happy. He is happy where he is.
Zen entrusts him with her protection when he couldn't be there for her.
He finds this comforting and it is enough.
There is faith, there is trust and they believe in him.
In return, he will protect them both to the end.
And he finds that it is enough.
. . .
—end—