The sun does not abandon the moon to darkness

Summary: Star Wars meets Life as a house…

Padmé Naberrie is the typical "the girl next door" type of girl. Anakin Skywalker is depressed, smokes, and occasionally does drugs. He also has piercings, black-dyed hair, and major issues.

When the two meets everything changes… (Modern AU)

(Anakin Skywalker/Padmé Amidala)

Warning: Mentions and descriptions of self-harm, smoking, drug use, bipolar disorder and suicidal thoughts!

A/N: (I'm sorry for sucking at summaries.)

Hello! I'm back with a new story, and this time it's a longer one! Anyone here who has watched the movie life as a house? You know, the movie with Hayden Christensen… I love that movie, and I love Sam Monroe, just as much as I love Anakin Skywalker. I recently re-watched that movie, and that gave me an idea. What Anakin Skywalker had an emo phase?

Basically, I love these two movies so much that I decided to mix them!

This story is a Modern High School AU set somewhere around the mid- 2000's and, btw... We all know ow Anakin Skywalker was a person with issues. Well, in this story I've portrayed him as having bipolar disorder, because I feel like mental illnesses and awaress about it isn't spoken of or portrayed enough. I have really tried to make my research on this illness, and I hope that I won't offend anybody.

I hope you all will enjoy this story! XOXO

Chapter 1

A girl feels ill with dread.

The only thing that Padmé Naberrie wants to do as she steps out of the car is to throw up her breakfast on the sidewalk, but that she won't do, because the pick of zone, the parking space, and the lawn in front of Coruscant High, her new school, is completely filled with students, and throwing up in front of all of them is not a good idea. That is, unless she wants to be the laughingstock of her new school, on her very first day and all. The be brutally honest, that is not something that Padmé wants. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

"Have a good day honey!" says her mother Jobal cheerfully to her just before she's about to close the car door. "This is going to be a great day!"

Her mother's words put a small smile on her face that she is desperately trying to hide. Her mother is a true optimist, and while that sometimes grate on Padmé's more practical and realist personality, she just can't help but smile at her mother's words. Mom is still mom, and you love her with your whole heart, even though she can be quite embarrassing at times. "Thanks mom," Padmé said, waving a little before finally closing the car door. She then turns around and takes it all in. Her new school is enormous. It's made up of a bunch of houses, all of them in a pale grayish yellow color with elements of orange here and there. In front of the many brick-buildings, stretches a great green lawn, at the moment filled with student, all coming back for the new school year, after hopefully a great summer filled with lots of fun stuff to lean back on and remember in the most difficult and harsh moments of stress, in between all studying for the SAT test. There are new faces here, filled a strange mixture of nervousness and curiosity, and there are also old faces here, desperate to finally be done with this place. Padmé doesn't know any of them, but she knows that she was not alone with all of the feelings of fear, curiosity and excitement that she was experiencing at that moment..

"Hello Coruscant High," Padmé says quietly to herself, almost completely inaudible. This is her new life. This is where she is going to spend most of her time in the two coming years. Padmé has to take a great deep breath to steady herself, and her racing heart.

When her parents had told her and her sister Sola in late February that they were moving from her beloved New York to sunny California, far away across the whole country, she had felt as if something has ripped inside of her. New York. The city that she had grown up in. New York. The city where she had her first kiss, even though it was clumsy and awkward. New York. The city were all her friends lived. Being uprooted after having lived such a steadfast and comfortable life had been hard… extremely hard at first. It had taken her the whole 6 months between February and August when the move was happening, to mentally prepare herself for the big impending change that was about to happen in her life.

Before the move to California, back in New York, the city that never sleeps, Padmé and her family had lived in a big, gorgeous penthouse mansion, built in old red brick, a trace of another time. The fact that the penthouse was located on the Upper East Side of Manhattan was something that Padmé didn't like to talk about, even though it was no secret. Everyone who 'is someone' in New York knows of the Naberrie's. It is so when your father is one of New York's biggest top lawyers. Padmé knew how cliché it sounded when she tried to explain it to others, but she doesn't like coming from a rich family. She would much rather have grown up in "a normal" family. Padmé almost feels ungrateful as these thoughts' courses through her head. Her parents and grandparents had fought hard to get where they were today. Jews had to be fighters. Jews had to be strong. Jews had to be brave.

With half her family cast into the horrendous holocausts during the second world war, where many of them were brutally and horribly murdered, Padmé knew that she didn't have any rights to complain. She was happy and privileged. Had never gone to sleep hungry. Had never had to worry about money.

This did not stop her from worrying about others in need, however. In fact, she used her own privilege to help others in need. Every time she got the opportunity, she was involved in all sorts of different charities and help organizations. It could be smaller things such as soup kitchens for the poor and homeless, or volunteering as a study helper, and sometimes it was bigger things such volunteer work abroad. Helping others was something she enjoyed greatly, and she didn't do it just because it was expected of her. No, helping others in need and in dire situations was her life calling. That Padmé was sure of. Her big sister Sola would often joke that she probably had some sort of charity chase fetish, or maybe a Mother Theresa complex, and Padmé does suppose that her sister is probably was right. At least in some ways. Padmé does honestly want to go into politics one day, so that she can make a real change for the good in the world someday.

Now however, she was starting a new chapter in her life, and this both scared and excited here. New home. New life. New school. New friends. While she very much doesn't complain about the warm California weather, Padme is still completely terrified as she walks across the great green lawn on shaky legs towards the school's big entry door. She knows that when she has stepped through the doors, there is no going back. A possible career in politics will have to wait a little, because first, she must finish school, and deal with all the drama and excitement that comes with it. And so, she accepts her new fate. Here goes nothing, Padmé says to herself as she walks through the mahogany doors.

A boy is feeling completely numb.

He has been fighting with depression, anxiety, self-hatred, and anger for years, but he doesn't want any help. He can fix it himself; he tells himself again, and again, as he closes the people who love him out. He doesn't want their bloody fake-pity.

He knows that smoking is bad, that it's a bad habit to have, but smoking is one of the few things that manages to make him somewhat calm. He hates being restless (and he is a extremely restless person) so the feeling of calmness that washes over him every time he takes a blows of a cigarette, it's like a lucid dream. A fever haze. Sometimes however, the cigarettes aren't enough. His mother Shmi, older brother Obi Wan, and his younger sister Ahsoka all knows about his smoking, but they don't know about the drugs that he sometime manages to get his hands on. He has tried very hard to hide at least that from them. The first time he got his hands on drugs, he was 14 and a half. Some older kids were dealing it out, just by a wooden creek in the woods, a part of the school property. It only cost him 15 dollars to acquire it. Such a small price for something so deadly, really.

What a waste of a young life.

By now he is at that point where he would anything to be able to experience that kick again, just like the first time he experienced it. The problem is that the next time, and the time after that and so on, is never like the first kick. The first experience. You try so hard to reach it again, and again, and again, and soon, you're stuck. Addicted. You can't live without it. He mostly uses numbing substances. Things that can numb the ever-present pain that always aches deep inside his chest. He hates himself because he feels like he isn't enough. He hates himself because he feels strongly and much. He hates himself because he is flawed. The scars on his inner arms are testaments of these feelings. The scars are also why he never wears sleeveless shirts. Long armed sleeves are his best friend.

It all started when his dad died, fighting far away, and trying to save innocent people in Afghanistan. His father, Qui Gon Jinn, was in the US army, and during his third and last deployment to Afghanistan, the one thing that wasn't allowed to happen, happened.

There was a bomb inside a house, and small children were stuck inside it. Like the true hero that he was, Qui Gon went in, but he never got out again. Their father's death was hard for all the three kids, but Anakin was the one hit the absolute hardest. Obi Wan and Ahsoka were of course close with Qui Gon, (he was their father after all) but the bond between Anakin and him was extraordinaire. Whenever he was home, the did absolutely everything together. Anakin was practically clued to his father's side. They went on rides on his motorcycle, built things in the garage, went to football games together…

When the news of Qui Gon's death reached the Skywalker-Jinn family, it was as if something snapped inside of Anakin.

Ahsoka, who was only five and a half years old at the time, too young to really remember her father, was devastated like any child would be in such a moment, but still too young to have any solid memories of him (seeing as he was deployed for long times when she was very small).

Obi Wan, much older, being 17 at the time, and deeply engrossed in his High School studies and his interest in getting admitted to great and prestigious Collages, was hit hard by his deer father's death. Having known him for so long, the pain of it all made him drown himself deeper into his studies, trying to distract himself from the pain. Ever since then Obi Wan had become more distant and less affectionate with others. He was afraid to commit, and of getting attached to things, because surely, wouldn't it all just break and come crumpling straight down again? Perhaps this was also the reason why any romantic relationship of his since then had failed? The Siri Tachi accident for example. That one did not end well…

Anakin is sure that something permanently broke inside him when he learned of his father's death, because he hasn't been himself since then. Before his father's death, Anakin used to be a happy, curious, and optimist child, always close to mischievous laughter. It isn't so anymore. In fact, he hasn't laughed in years. He only scoffs, and cries. The boy lost his spark. His interests. His motivation. The only thing that could engage him slightly was tinkering with machines, but never in the same way or scale as when his father was still alive.

"At least the children got out," his mother said, again and again as she tried to console the 12-year-old boy for the thousandth time. "I know that it's horrible, and that we will never stop mourning him, but at least he died for a noble cause. He died trying to save other people Ani."

It didn't take long until he was diagnosed with depression.

Then, when he was 14 years old, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

It happened after his mother pulled the stop brakes hard when his moodiness turned into pure, frightful mania, hypomania, and paranoia, switching ever so often between heaven and hell. When she found him passed out and bleeding on the bathroom floor, the cuts on his arms long, red, fresh and many. He had to spend a few weeks in the hospital (sorry about the hospital bill mom), where he was monitored and studied all day and night. Questions, questions, and questions. There were to many questions. At least they appeared to be too many to him. All the same. The answer to their questions were easy, however. Did you try to kill yourself? Maybe. No. Perhaps. No. Yes. No…

Anakin Skywalker is 16 years old now, and his father has been dead for four years. Anakin himself it seems, is pumped full of antidepressants, making him feel empty, drowsy, and anxious. He can't sleep at night because of insomnia, and he seldomly has any appetite for anything, not just food.

Now, his ears and his lower lip are pierced. His baby-blue eyes are painted black with eye makeup, his clothes are edgy and in dark colors, and his normally blond curls is dyed black. It has been like this since he was 14 years old, just after his diagnosing. It's a way of coping. It's a defense mechanism.

He sits inside the classroom, waiting for the school bell to ring, signaling the start of the new school year. Yay, he thinks sarcastically.

He sits, staring into the wall, but when she walks into the classroom, just as the bell rings, His focus and attention immediately goes to her. He doesn't know her. In fact, he has never seen her before, and yet, this stranger strikes strange feelings into the cold, distant dept of his lonely heart.

She must be a new student at Coruscant High, he thinks to himself, and apparently, she's in his class too. That or she walked into the wrong classroom, which would be incredibly embarrassing for her. Anakin doesn't think so, however.

He hadn't noticed that the seat beside him beside him just to his left was empty until she had pulled the chair out and sat down. He turned his head slightly towards her, taking a moment to study her. Her hair was thick, curly, and chestnut brown, and he also noted how it tumbled down her back, like a fierce lion mane. Her skin complexion was pale and smooth, and from what he could tell from the angle that he was watching her from, her eyes were brown, perhaps in a shade of amber or honey. Maybe a combination of the two, perhaps.

Realizing that he was staring at the girl who was sitting beside him, he immediately averted his gaze back down to his bench. Just before his gaze went down to the bench however, their gazes met for a slight moment. The short moment was enough to prove his theory. Her eyes were both amber and honey brown, with tiny flecks of golden in them. It was a gorgeous combination, he had to admit, despite himself.

She smiled shyly at him; the corners of her mouth raised upwards slightly.

"Hi," she said to him quietly in a warm, gentle, and tender voice, waving a little as she did.

Anakin could feel his cheeks and the back of his neck flushing slightly and getting warm, and despite himself, even though he is trying hard not to, a small smile forms on his lips.

Anakin Skywalker has not smiled in years.

"Stop smiling you fool, and get a fucking grip on yourself," he thinks quietly to himself and looks up, just as the teacher starts talking to the class, welcoming them all back for the start of the new school year.

"Junior year, here we go…"