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Qui-Gon meant well. Obi-Wan knew that, he forced himself to understand that, but sometimes it didn't feel true.
The master had commented softly about Obi-Wan's appearance, laughing that he looked like a ghost underneath his robes, and the teen immediately recoiled. It could have been a compliment, he couldn't even tell; it was a comment on his weight. Now, with his Master in a meeting, Obi could finally inspect himself in the mirror.
A boy of only 13, he stood five foot five at just under 100 pounds. Shirtless in front of the mirror, he drug a finger down his ribcage, around his stomach. There wasn't a lot to feel. Attachments to one's looks wasn't the Jedi way- but this wasn't attachment, this was need. He needed to be fit for training. That meant being free of body fat. That wasn't something he quarreled with himself over.
His Master would be gone for the night, hopefully. Regardless, Obi-Wan padded back to his quarters and pulled a black vial from underneath his bedding. Pressing in the combination, he twisted off the top. The scent of alcohol hit his nose and he sighed gently, tipping the container back and knocking back a mouthful.
It hurt. It always hurt. Not just the pain of the alcohol, pushing down his throat, but the thought he was failing his beloved Master. Failing. He could feel the other Padawans taunting him in the back of his mind, but he released his emotions quickly back into the Force. He couldn't keep everything pent up. Just this one thing that was his.
When Obi awoke the next day, it was already time for a training session. He groaned inwardly; he was exhausted and hungover, he didn't need to deal with other people this morning. Crawling out of bed, his Master had already started their morning tea, a tradition the youngling could never avoid. They had a new mission, he was informed, and they were going to have to get involved in politics. Of course. Why would he assume he could have a good day?
Obi-Wan wishes he had opened up to Master Qui-Gon before the man died in his arms. Maybe he would have been spared the next years of trauma and exhaustion and pain. Maybe.