Chapter Text
Food was always a little strange to Anakin. As a kid he had learned to cope with food insecurity and constant hunger - it was just part of his luck as a slave. He had grown so used to it by the time Qui-Gon had come to take him back to Coruscant.
The first time Anakin had ever been relieved of his hunger was on the flight to the Jedi Temple, and it was so unfamiliar that it felt quite uncomfortable to him. That didn’t stop him though, as he was indeed desperately hungry. Even some relief felt so good.
So he ate, to feel alive. He hadn’t realized how hazy the world had looked before Coruscant. He questioned how he even made it as far as he did alive.
When Qui-Gon died - Anakin didn’t fully fall apart. He spent a time mourning, but Obi-Wan was clearly more affected.
Obi-Wan was then named Anakin’s master, and everything changed.
Anakin wasn’t a good Padawan by any means - not if the code was considered. He had been reckless from day one - but he always succeeded, just in unconventional ways.
It had been three years with Obi-Wan before anything really surfaced. Anakin was too busy at the Temple with his training or on missions. His thoughts could not wander.
Not until one Life Day - where the majority of the Jedi remained at the temple in a day of celebration. It wasn’t common, as the last few years Anakin had been on assignments. It was nice. Even in the temple there were many traditions that remained along Coruscant. A bit of a celebration followed with a special dinner.
Anakin had never experienced the concept of food for the sake of eating or celebration. It was always something he had only ever experienced for survival. He sat beside Obi-Wan unsure of exactly how to eat. It started with observing others. It seemed that it was normal to eat quite a bit - so Anakin followed.
The unique hunger came back as if it had been awoken from a long hibernation. It had never gone away. He felt everything, as he continued to eat. It went from a bit too much to absolutely far too much and along with a physical pain - he felt guilt.
This felt wrong. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he felt he both never deserved it and was quite angry that he let himself get to this point. It felt as if it was boiling, and the guilt continued to rise to the surface. An anxiety he had never felt before.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.
It terrified him. Everything seemed to terrify him.
He had to get it out.
Anakin left the hall quietly. Obi-Wan hadn’t even seen him leave. He walked the halls to a fresher that was far away. There were a couple stalls, and he locked himself in the furthest one. He stood over the toilet, as the silence grew loud. He wasn’t sure why he needed to do this - but he had to.
Anakin took his middle finger and shoved it down his throat. He pulled it out the moment he gagged. There was a fear, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the guilt. Anakin tried again with the same outcome.
Somehow it felt hard, but he tried a third time with success. Something had come up - not a lot, but it was enough to relieve the pain.
Anakin felt the guilt leave and the familiar hunger wave back in. He felt much more like himself.
It seemed that night didn’t affect him at all for the most part. Months went by before the thought even crossed his mind again.
He had always been small, both in height and weight as a padawan - mainly due to the habits he continued to hold onto from his life on Tatooine.
He had always been small until his body seemed to start growing overnight and suddenly he was much taller. It was unexpected, and somewhat unwelcome. With the height - came weight. It was inevitable. He had started to eat more as he started on assignments that were off world. It was half due to Obi-Wan’s request, but then an odd hunger had him in a choke hold. He had gained enough weight to no longer be considered so small - and it caused a bit of anxiety. Others finally got off of his back, and Obi-Wan stopped bringing Anakin sandwiches at night - that was the good part.
Anakin felt somewhat uncomfortable in the new skin. It was no longer something familiar.
On his fifteenth birthday he had an annual medical check - a standard for all padawans. He walked into the room, along with his master - as masters were required until a padawan turned sixteen.
It was usually awkward, but ever since Anakin had turned thirteen - Obi-Wan knew to sit in a corner, as Anakin would otherwise feel uncomfortable. This was no different. Anakin had shooed Obi-Wan into the same corner as the healer closed the door.
The healer was different - she was quite tall and very calm. It was clear she had been doing the same medical check all day - Anakin was no different to her.
She had Anakin stand along a wall for height - then on a small box for weight, and led him to sit upon a bed that had been stripped of its sheets. Anakin shifted on the white mattress. It wasn’t comfortable, nor was it uncomfortable. It was just there.
The healer swiftly pricked Anakin’s finger with a device to take a blood sample. It was a long silence while she waited for the numbers to show up. Anakin rocked back and forth anxiously, as he felt Obi-Wan staring him down.
“Skywalker?” She said, breaking the silence. Anakin looked up.
“Yes?” He asked.
“Numbers look good. You’ve grown again - which is expected at your age. You’re now close to six feet tall.” The healer said.
“Great.” Anakin mumbled, as he tried to dangle his legs - which were sweeping along the floor with each kick.
“You’ve finally gained weight too - a hundred and sixty five; which is good. You had us concerned for a bit when you came in.” The healer said casually.
Anakin felt a bit of anger with the numbers. Somehow he hated it. It was so unfamiliar - moreso the longer he thought about it. He hadn’t really kept an eye on his own body - as Jedi are taught that it isn’t so important as long as they remain healthy.
Anakin still felt an old identity gone, and with the rise of his own stress and looming war, a fear of letting everyone down, and the strange and constant presence of Palpatine in his life.
“Are we done?” Anakin asked. The healer shook her head.
“No, but almost. Stand up for me,” She said. Anakin stood. “Stand on one leg, then the other,” She said. Anakin picked up one leg and then the other. “Place your arms out in front of you and then flip the palms.” She said, observing his hands and nailbeds - which had just stopped appearing a purple.
“Am I done now?” Anakin asked. The healer nodded, as she walked back to a counter in the back of a room.
“Yes, the two of you may go.” The healer said - dismissing the two. Anakin met back with Obi-Wan. They remained wordless as Anakin let the numbers seethe into his head. Somehow he felt he had to do something to find a comfort again.
There was a yearning to feel the same feeling again. The hunger - the constant feeling of slight burning.
On that Life Day there was another celebration. It had become a tradition for any Jedi in the temple at the time - and if one was away from the temple, there’d be an option to holo in. Anakin found himself staring the food down once again - this time it wasn’t because of a food insecurity or old habits.
It felt somewhat different. He was desperate to drop just a bit of the weight. It wasn’t because he didn’t like himself - just to help him feel a bit more comfortable.
If he had to do this - then he would.
Yet that night he had ended up eating too much again - running off to a far away fresher and bringing it up again - as if his own control was deeply unpredictable.