Anakin had learned a lot in those literature classes already.

"There you have it" professor Kenobi said while giving his essay back, with so many corrections that it was hard to see anything but red.

Well, perhaps he needed to be more specific. He had learned a lot in those classes, only not so much about the subject itself as about its teacher.

A few classes had been enough for Anakin to realise that Obi-Wan Kenobi was not someone easy to get to know. He had thought that he was your typical conceited and selfish snob the first time he saw him, but he proved him wrong when he offered to help him by giving him private classes. He had not looked so strict in that moment. But then, in the first of the aforementioned private classes, he had gone back to his strict and rigid persona. He didn't let him get away with any mistake, and he was a perfectionist to the extreme— which probably just meant that the man was very professional about his job, but still, it got on Anakin's nerves. He also had a sarcastic humour, and he could present you with all kinds of acidic remarks and ironic comments one moment, and be the epitome of nice manners and civility the next—a walking contradiction. Anakin wasn't sure if he liked that— normally he was able to pinpoint one's personality very accurately after just a few interactions.

"You could at least feign some interest, Anakin."

"You've told me that already, professor," he said cheekily, "in my first class, remember?" At some point he had gone from being Mr. Skywalker to just Anakin when they were alone in the classroom.

"Then I've clearly not said it enough." He sounded exasperated, but not angry exactly.

"You've got to understand me. This doesn't have anything to do with what I study."

"Fair enough."

"And, no offense, but if I'm honest here, I've never found much sense in poetry and all this stuff."

"All this stuff" he repeated thoughtfully, and why did it have to sound so ridiculous when said by him. "Don't worry, no offense taken. I'd probably be equally lost if I had to attend a class of mechanical engineering. The thing is, since you have no choice on the matter (and you have to pass the final exam as well), I advise you to try to make the most of it. Who knows, perhaps you'll end up liking it."

"I highly doubt it. I just don't see the sense in... this." He looked at the poem he had to analyse with a frown. "It's not useful. In mechanics, everything has a meaning."

"Things don't have to be useful to have a meaning" he said with an air of having lived several lifetimes, "and by the way, not everything in life has to serve a purpose to be of value."

"It has, for me." Then, he smiled. "I guess I'm just more practical."

"Perhaps" he nodded. "Or simply more narrow-minded".

There it was, the insult hidden beneath educated words. Somehow he always managed to do that.

"Hey!" But Mr Kenobi simply raised one eyebrow, looking too much satisfied with himself—and rightly so, for Anakin was in no place to rebuke him, and the man in front of him knew that. So he settled for an annoyed stare, which only managed to amuse his professor a bit more—much to his chagrin.

The library of the university almost looked like taken from another century, in line with the ancient and solemn air of the whole building. Whenever Anakin thought about that place, the color brown was the first thing that came to his mind, with almost everything being made of wood: the long tables, the extensive shelves, the refined chairs. The ceiling lights were sober but elegant, old, just like the table lamps that you could find here and there. The shelves containing the books were arranged in such a way that they formed long and endless corridors. When you were in one of those, surrounded by books on your left and right, one felt almost as if trapped in a labyrinth—utterly isolated from the world.

As he was picking a novel for his literature classes, he had to stifle a scream at the sight of a pair of eyes peeking in the space formerly occupied by the book.

"You look like you've seen a ghost" she whispered between muffled laughs.

"Ahsoka!" he grumbled as he also tried to keep his voice down. "Is this how you spend your free time now, trying to scare the crap out of people in the library?"

"I just saw you there, I couldn't help it. You should have seen your face, Skyguy." She laughed some more, earning the reproach of someone. She lowered her voice in consequence. "You were scared to death".

"But of course I was" he whispered. "Your face can be quite scary, especially at this time of day."

"Look at him, so eloquent," she mocked him, "the literature classes seem to have paid off."

Anakin was getting a headache. He ran his hand over his head, messing his hair up in consequence.

"Yeah, don't remind me of those."

"Why? You told me they weren't so bad."

"Well, I take it back. He makes me feel stupid."

"He?" She arched an eyebrow.

"It" Anakin corrected himself. "The poems and all that stuff. Anyways, can't you come over here to keep talking like normal people?" If someone had seen them maintaining a conversation through the space left by the book, each one on one side of the shelf, they would think that they were out of their minds.

"Actually, I was looking for you" she said once she caught up with him in the corridor. "Remember the essay we have to hand over next Friday? I've been looking over the bibliography needed."

"Great. And?"

"And, since we are doing it in pairs, you could collect the books yourself, as I've already done the research part."

"Is that it?" he asked incredulously. So she didn't mind doing the hard work, but she was too lazy to look for some books in the library? Whatever, he certainly wasn't going to complain.

"Here's the list."Ahsoka handed it over to him. "I'll be on the table near the entrance working on it, so don't take too long! That's what I call teamwork!" she said in a lively way.

She must be coming down with a fever, Anakin thought even more confused. Or maybe she was just taking pity on him— the last few days hadn't been easy on him, and she knew that. This was probably her way of lending him a hand without it being too obvious.

Anakin was silently thanking his friend in his mind when he saw the last books of the list, and all gratefulness towards her vanished right away.

"Ahsoka" he grumbled.

The retrieving of those books required a special permission from the librarian, who, much to the inconvenience of the students, was more often than not in a disagreeable mood, to put it lightly.

She was a woman on her late fifties, but she looked way older than she was — her constant grim face was probably one of the reasons for that. It was very difficult to convince her of their need to borrow some books, and she always gave the most bizarre excuses. In the end she ended up giving in, of course (if she hadn't, she would have received a heads up from the teachers); but still, it made the process of going to her extremely tiresome.

And that's why his wonderful best friend had dumped this work on him. So much for being sympathetic.

As he was preparing himself for a dreadful negotiation, he was surprised by one of the most unexpected and strange sounds he'd ever heard. She was laughing. An obnoxious and disgusting laugh— but a laugh nonetheless. Apparently the person that was with her had managed to do the impossible, even though he didn't seem to be aware of his achievement, his attention focused solely on the book he was holding. So he had managed to do the impossible and in an effortless way, which made his task even more impressive. As Anakin was approaching the pair, the librarian adopted her natural grim face at the same time that the miracle-doer raised his sight from his book, and a familiar pair of gray-blue eyes looked back at him. Anakin groaned to himself. But of course, it had to be him.

"Mr. Kenobi" Anakin said by way of greeting, to which his professor responded with a nod of his head and continued reading whatever he was reading. Couldn't he do that somewhere else?

"What do you want, Skywalker" the librarian asked in an irritated tone.

"I need these books for an essay" he answered knowing from experience that running around the bush would serve of nothing.

She put on her glasses and read the list, before handing it back to him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to look for them somewhere else."

"What— Why?" Calm down, Anakin, don't sound so impatient, he commanded himself. Trying to sound as polite as was possible, he continued talking. "There must have been some mistake, I know these books are available here." He forced himself to smile.

"Oh, they are available. Just not to you".

His smiled faltered. Unconsciously, he looked to Mr. Kenobi for assistance, but the man continued to be enthralled by his reading. The flipping sound of the pages was getting on his nerves. "And why is that?"

"It wouldn't be the last time you lose one of these books."

Oh, that. Of course he had had to be stupid enough to give her one more excuse to be a jerk. He never knew where he'd lost that book.

"I already paid for it, and it won't happen again." More silence, only broken by the flipping of the pages. His patience was dangerously dissipating. "Look, it's not that I want these books for myself, I need them to do an essay, so you just can't—"

Thank the stars their third companion chose that precise moment to intervene.

"If you'll excuse me, it seems rather unfair to punish Mr. Skywalker for one mistake he made on the past, and one that he's already mended".

The librarian clearly hadn't expected him to be paying attention. She adopted a defensive posture.

"It's not just that! He's always making noise in the library, he and that other brash girl." She pointed at Ahoska, who was watching the scene from her seat with interest, looking... amused? You're going to pay for this, Snips.

"I can sympathise, I'm his teacher and I know for a fact how annoying he can be" he said as if he was discussing the weather, earning a frown from Anakin. That seemed to appease the librarian, though. "But one thing doesn't rule out the other."

The librarian seemed debated between her desire to torment the student a bit more, and her unwillingness to make a fool of herself in front of Mr. Kenobi. He did tend to have that effect on people. Anakin could sympathise—or would have if he didn't detest her.

"All right" she finally said, looking as though she couldn't believe that she had given in so easily. Anakin supposed that she was already planning her revenge. Whatever, next time it would be Ahsoka the one in this ridiculous situation, thank you very much.

She left to retrieve the books, leaving Anakin alone with Mr. Kenobi, who was looking at him with a self-satisfied smirk. The student rolled his eyes.

"I believe that thanks are in order."

"You're right, I'm sorry." Anakin looked at him seriously, with a repentant expression on his face. His professor raised one eyebrow. "I don't know whether to feel more grateful for your help, or for the fact that you just called me annoying".

That actually gained a chuckle from Mr. Kenobi— the second most unexpected thing to take place in the library that day.

"Well, it did work, didn't it?"

"I guess."

"The fact that it conformed to the truth only happened to be a convenient coincidence" he said affably before taking his leave with the book he'd been reading.

Anakin rolled his eyes—again— but he couldn't help smiling back.

"There you are", the librarian had already come back with his books, "don't lose them this time, and if I hear you speaking one word in the library, I'll take them back."

Anakin rushed off towards Ahsoka. He presented her with his best annoyed look, to which she merely shrugged her shoulders, and the both of them started working. It only occurred to him then that the distraction, as unwelcome as it'd been, had managed to make him forget completely about his nightmares for a moment—and he felt grateful towards his best friend again.

He was having a particular bad week. Perhaps it was just an effect of how anxious he had been feeling lately, but the familiar sentiment of emptiness had increased tenfold. And he knew that neither the stress for an overload of work, nor his nightmares— and not even the pain that was a constant in his life ever since the deaths of mum and Padmé—were the reasons for those sensations. At least not the only reasons. He'd been feeling somewhat like this all his life, even before any of that happened. And at least now he could say that he had a reason, but years ago, when everything was going alright, it was already there. It seemed to him that he was going through life out of habit, and when he went to sleep, surrounded by the darkness and by his own thoughts, an indescribable sense of unreality took hold of him. He was never able to explain it to his mother, no matter how hard he tried, for he didn't understand it himself.

But now, now, he did have reasons for feeling like this; so naturally his emotional stability was practically nonexistent. When he woke up from his dreams of real death and imaginary monsters, he stayed in bed for at least ten minutes, reminding himself that what was real was that moment, and that his dreams were only that— dreams. When he passed by the fountain of the courtyard of the university, he often lost track of time observing the water and its reflections of his surroundings. Sometimes he would get anxious, feeling trapped in that reflection. And that is when he looked away, facing reality— only to find that he felt even more trapped then.

He knew Ahsoka was getting worried, fearing that he might fall into depression. Anakin knew it wasn't that, although he was a bit scared too (even if he would never admit it out loud). He just felt as if he didn't know himself any longer.

"Come on, Skyguy. You need to come to Rex's birthday party! He's invited just a few people (no one you can't stand) to come over. We'll watch movies and play those videogames of starships that you like so much, you'll eat all the junk food you want, and you—"

"—And I can't go. Just as I've told you for the... third time now? I have to study."

"By study you mean you have your text book open while you stare at the window, brooding over all the things that you shouldn't brood over?"

Anakin quickly averted his eyes from the window. "No, by study I mean just that, study. I have no time to do that during the day, you know that."

"I know, but you need to distract yourself! If you don't, you'll end up mad. Madder."

"Very funny."

"Seriously, Anakin. You need to go out, it would do your mind so much good."

"I don't feel like going out" he answered stubbornly, in spite of Ahsoka's worried tone.

"I thought the reason was that you had to study?"

"Both things are compatible."

Ahsoka sighed, recognising a lost cause when she saw one.

"Alright, I'll shut up. When you're like this there's no way to reason with you."

"A wise decision."

"But you know that if you ever want to talk about—"

"Yes, yes I know." He softened his tone. "Thank you, Ahsoka. I appreciate the concern, but I'm just fine." He ignored the sarcastic remark that followed his "just fine bullshit", as she called it. "Have fun, okay? And tell Rex that I'm sorry. I'll go to the next one."

"Yeah, you better" she sounded exasperated and sympathetic at once. "Good luck with your study, Skyguy."

He took a look at the contents that he was supposed to go over this night, after which he concluded that making coffee was a must. Of one thing he was certain: there would be no nightmares today, or any kind of sleep for that matter.

"Sorry I'm late" Mr. Kenobi said on another of their classes, in a particular rainy day.

His delay was unusual for him, but not as much as his aspect. Normally neat and faultless, the stormy day had found him in a state of disarray of epic proportions—meaning, his clothes were a bit damped, and his copper hair was slightly dishevelled. Epic proportions indeed—by his standards.

"And apologies as well for the incivility of my appearance." Anakin rolled his eyes, something that he seemed to do awfully often in his presence.

It was dark outside, and the tree branches clashed against each other as a result of the violent wind, making a noise that interspersed with the sound of the pen pointing out the mistakes in the students' essays. As he stared out the window, the Shakespeare's sonnet he had to analyse forgotten, his reflection gradually changed into that of a younger version of himself—five years younger to be exact.

It was raining outside, but Anakin was vaguely aware of the sound of the drops against the windowpane, or of the documents that were being signed by a nurse in a rushed way. He did perceive those sounds, but they were unimportant, so they were stored in some part of his subconscious. Only the words uttered by the doctor merited his complete attention, echoing again and again in his mind in an infinite cycle.

"I'm sorry, she couldn't hold any longer."

And of course Anakin had known that— he had known since the moment his mother had been diagnosed with an aggressive type of cancer. He'd known this moment would come, but still the words sounded harrowingly empty, void of meaning. Only the sense of loss he could comprehend, as it seemed utterly familiar to him, even though it was the first time he'd experienced it.

He must have cried, although he didn't notice. The only thing he remembered was Padmé's comforting embrace and her loving words, to which he clung desperately so as to not lose his sanity.

"Shh, Ani. You're not alone, I'm right here. I'll always be."

His 23 year old face looked back at him from the glass. Anakin gulped and forced himself to look away.

"—Anakin." Mr. Kenobi had moved at some point so that he was now standing in front of Anakin's desk.

"Sorry, I was distracted."

"Understatement of the year. I've been calling your name three times at least."

"I'm sorry." he repeated. "I didn't get much sleep yesterday. At all." Which, while not exactly the reason for his distractedness, was technically true.

"Is something the matter?" He looked genuinely concerned.

"Oh, nothing," he waved off, "just studying."

"Certainly not literature" he said distractedly while looking at Anakin's analysis of the poem.

"Actually, I did try." At 4 AM, after he had finished with the important stuff of his actual degree, when his eyes could barely remain open— but it still counted as a try. "It's not my fault I didn't understand it."

His professor hummed non-committally as he continued reading. "To be fair, it's not that bad. You have improved. Somewhat."

"See? I told you I had tried." He folded his arms smugly.

Mr. Kenobi, stoic as he could be, ignored his remark and continued talking as if he hadn't been interrupted. "But, you need to put a lot more effort into making coherent sentences and paragraphs. Everything is in chaos."

"Welcome to my life."

"This is important, Anakin." The way he said his name, a strange mixture of authoritative and kind at the same time, made him pay attention. "The content might be good, but everything will be lost if you don't express yourself correctly."

"All right, I'll try." Mr. Kenobi didn't look completely pleased with that, so he corrected himself. "I'll do it."

"Now, that's better", he smiled.

"Whatever." Anakin sighed and tried to look exasperated.

"What do you think about the last couple of verses? Read them aloud, please."

He complied, this time honestly exasperated."So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." Mr. Kenobi didn't say anything, so he presumed he wanted to know if he had understood. "I get it. It means that, even after his friend is dead, he will live forever somehow through poetry". Anakin frowned, his mind revisiting the memories of death he had experienced. "I don't agree with it, though."

"Why not?" His professor looked at him with interest.

"The idea is nice, in the abstract. But at the moment of truth, when you have suffered someone's lost, I don't think that just writing about it would be of any comfort. That person is dead, and no poem or empty words can erase that."

He hadn't pretended to sound as harsh as he had, but the topic was sensitive enough for him.

"But it's not writing about it that it's supposed to provide comfort, it's the fact of making the memory of a loved one prevail by making others know about them."

"Yes, and as I said, as an idea is fine. But it's useless. That person will remain dead, and making others read about them won't change that fact."His mum and Padmé were dead, and no talking about them, or thinking, or dreaming, would take them back. He would have to live forever with that emptiness.

His professor, probably deducing that this was a sensitive topic for him, decided to leave it at that."Everyone is entitled to have their own opinion, of course" he appeased him.

They continued with the class. Mr. Kenobi explained to him the concepts that he found most difficult, and also provided him with some context for the classes to which he had to assist in the morning. Anakin had to admit that he had learned several things already, although his knowledge was still pretty meagre. It would take many classes for him to be at the level of his classmates, but that was only normal. He still couldn't comprehend the utility of this program. Assisting to classes of another degree he could understand, but only if these were related in some way. But making someone of Mechanical Engineering assist to English Literature? It didn't make any sense! Even Ahsoka had been better off than him—surely Graphical Design could prove to be more useful to her that something like this could ever be. But, well, there was no point in complaining, so he had resolved to do it as well as he could. Also, he had to admit, as boring as he still found the subject, Mr. Kenobi's enthusiasm for what he taught made the classes somewhat bearable. Just a bit.

But today, well, it was getting extremely difficult to perform. At least he didn't have to work in the garage afterwards, so he could go to sleep as soon as he reached home.

"I wouldn't like to intrude, but don't you think you overwork yourself?" His professor asked him when Anakin explained to him (after his tenth yawn) that, because of his job at the garage, he had to study at night most days.

Anakin laughed ironically. "It's not like I have a choice".

"Surely you could work a little less? That pace can't be healthy".

"Well, some of us actually have to work so that we can afford the costs of this university" he answered heatedly.

A thunder sounded outside, interrupting the silence that had taken over the classroom after his words. It was raining more strongly now.

"I apologize, it's none of my business."

"No, I'm sorry."Anakin bowed his head."I shouldn't have reacted like that. It's just ... I'm not in a good mood today."

Both looked at the window when the noise of the storm increased a bit more.

"The day doesn't help either" his professor said sympathetically referring to the storm.

"I like the rain" Anakin answered lamely.

And there's probably no better indication of a conversation going awry than the fact of ending up speaking about the weather. There was an awkward atmosphere in the classroom, which had begun with Anakin's disagreement over the poem, and reached its climax with his late outburst. Things could only go downside from now.

"Well, how about we finish the class fifteen minutes earlier today? I have to correct a lot of exams at home, and surely you could use the rest."

Anakin didn't say out loud that this was probably the cleverest thing he had said since he knew him, lest he started another disagreement.

"Yeah, seems fine to me." He was feeling a little guilty for having lashed out at him, especially taking into account that his professor was under no obligation to help Anakin with these classes, and now he also had a lot of work to do at home for that reason.

Besides, it wasn't Mr. Kenobi's fault that Watto exploited him, or that Padmé and mum were dead.

They both exited the classroom at the same time. It was very late, so there was no one in the corridors. Just like the library, the rest of the building looked solemn and ancient. With the noise of the storm it acquired a particular air of mystery and gloominess, paralleled by Anakin's sombre mood.

Mr. Kenobi closed the door with his keys, as no more lessons would take place in that class today. Anakin said goodbye to him while he put on his sweater's hood. Hopefully, if he hurried up he wouldn't end up too soaked.

"Wait a second, do you really pretend to go home by walking under this downpour?"

"By running, more precisely." His attempt at a joke fell flat. "But, yeah. I have no car, so I'll just have to bear a little wetness."

"Nonsense, I can give you a lift. I won't have one of my students dying from pneumonia. That would be highly inconvenient, especially after having spent so much time preparing you for the subject."

"I'm touched by your concern." Anakin deadpanned ironically, although he knew he was joking. Or at least he hoped he was. "Thanks, but I don't want to bother you."

"It really is no bother, Anakin. Let's go, it's getting late."

He didn't need to be told twice. As much as he liked the rain, it was much better observed from a distance.

"Wow" he couldn't help exclaiming when they reached his car. "Nice car."

"Is it? I don't know much about cars, but thank you." Anakin pondered for a moment in the injustice of the fact that Mr. Kenobi had this beauty without appreciating its value, whereas Anakin, who very much enjoyed cars, had none. "Would you like to drive it?"

He eyed inquisitively his professor. "Is it a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, amused.

"One never knows with you." Anakin still eyed him mistrustfully.

"I believe that's one of the moments when the saying 'said the pot to the kettle' would be overwhelmingly accurate" he answered while rolling his eyes, at the same time that he got into the passenger seat.

So he's not joking. He's actually going to let me drive this. Anakin smiled his first real smile of the day before getting into the car.

"Thank you, professor" he said happily while starting the car. "You won't regret this, I'm an excellent driver. No one would believe I don't have a driving license."

Mr. Kenobi hummed disinterestedly before realization shone in his grey-blue eyes, and the look of horror on Mr. Always- Calm-Kenobi had to be one of the funniest things he'd ever seen.

"You—what? Anakin! Stop the car this instant!"

"Relax, professor." He answered between chuckles. "I was just joking."

Mr. Kenobi gave an exasperated sigh, before adopting his usual air of serenity.

"One never knows with you" he bit back, echoing Anakin's words from earlier.

Driving was in the third place of the things that relaxed him the most, just after tinkering with machines and watching the rain. So it came as no surprise that, having two of those three things at the moment, his mood had considerably improved. And if it was a bonus that he could enjoy himself while terrorising Mr. Kenobi with his driving, showing off some skills; well, all the better.

"I take it you didn't like my driving, then?" he asked innocently when they arrived to the block of apartments in which he lived.

"Driving? That wasn't driving. That was suicide."

Anakin chuckled while he unfastened his seatbelt. "So dramatic." It had almost stopped raining, just some drops were all that was left from the storm of earlier. It was time to go. "Well, thanks for the ride, Mr. Kenobi. And for letting me drive."

His professor grimaced, probably thinking that it was not happening again anytime soon, at least the driving part.

"You're welcome, but could you do me a favour? It's not necessary that you call me Mr. Kenobi when we are not in class. Just Obi-Wan is fine. I might be thirty-five and therefore several years older than you, but Mr. Kenobi makes me feel ancient."

So he had been correct when he had guessed that Mr. Kenobi must have been around his mid thirties.

"Alright, Obi-Wan." Even though he was used to calling him Mr. Kenobi, he thought his name suited him much better. "Well, thanks again."

"Don't mention it. Now go to sleep, you must be really tired if you've thanked me twice in the span of one minute."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll just go before a third time can happen." He smiled to him. "Good night."

When he walked five steps, his professor's voice called him from the car.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Anakin, utterly dumbfounded, stared at him in silence, having no clue as to what he meant.

Mr. Kenobi... no, Obi-Wan raised his hand, showing him from the lowered window his literature book, looking at him exasperated.

"Oh, right."

He went to the car again, receiving the book through the lowered window.

"I'm sorry your trick of escaping from the homework didn't work out" he said with one raised eyebrow.

"You got me." That made Obi-Wan frown more, and Anakin chuckled. "Actually I did forget it. But thanks for the idea, it might come in handy in the future!"

"You're incorrigible." He shook his head with the hint of a smile, and addressed him one last time before leaving. "Good night, Anakin. Sleep well."

"Good night... Obi-Wan" he muttered while watching his car disappearing into the distance.

When he entered the apartment, he went directly to the bed, not even bothering with taking his clothes off. The nightmares left him alone this time.