Not shouting into the Force was a skill Anakin would learn, eventually, after much tragedy and suffering. But not tonight, and more he didn't even realize he was shouting.
Instead, he simply stayed still while Obi-Wan moved about, Anakin staying still and quiet as vermin waiting for the residents to sleep. However, once bid, Anakin squirmed out of the sleeping pallet he'd made and sat next to Obi-Wan. Closer than he would if they were in public and closer than he would if anyone else was about.
He didn't know how to explain things to Obi-Wan, things which were simply how life worked, when Obi-Wan had never known that kind of life. When it was so radically different. Not being wanted, Anakin knew with a certainty that was unshakable, meant at best suffering hunger and sleeping rough, to the point that even the hovel he'd lived in on Tatooine was wonderful and worse... Spice Mines. A Hutt Palace. Many worse places.
And more, he didn't know how he knew he was so universally not wanted. It was simply something he could feel. Even when his Master assured him people did want him. In their classes, or to be friends, or in the maintenance hangers.
Anakin just knew that wasn't the case. They were pretending, because of Obi-Wan.
Not him.
"I don't mean to bother you."
He also wasn't used - even now - to sleeping in a dorm so quiet. On Tatooine, he'd always been able to hear his mother's snoring, sleep muttering, and neighbors moving about. The Temple was so quiet. It allowed other things, budding (bludging) Force Sensitivity to scream at him.
He leaned just a bit against Obi-Wan, so their arms touched. "It's hard here at night."
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Instead, he simply stayed still while Obi-Wan moved about, Anakin staying still and quiet as vermin waiting for the residents to sleep. However, once bid, Anakin squirmed out of the sleeping pallet he'd made and sat next to Obi-Wan. Closer than he would if they were in public and closer than he would if anyone else was about.
He didn't know how to explain things to Obi-Wan, things which were simply how life worked, when Obi-Wan had never known that kind of life. When it was so radically different. Not being wanted, Anakin knew with a certainty that was unshakable, meant at best suffering hunger and sleeping rough, to the point that even the hovel he'd lived in on Tatooine was wonderful and worse...
Spice Mines.
A Hutt Palace.
Many worse places.
And more, he didn't know how he knew he was so universally not wanted. It was simply something he could feel. Even when his Master assured him people did want him. In their classes, or to be friends, or in the maintenance hangers.
Anakin just knew that wasn't the case. They were pretending, because of Obi-Wan.
Not him.
"I don't mean to bother you."
He also wasn't used - even now - to sleeping in a dorm so quiet. On Tatooine, he'd always been able to hear his mother's snoring, sleep muttering, and neighbors moving about. The Temple was so quiet. It allowed other things, budding (bludging) Force Sensitivity to scream at him.
He leaned just a bit against Obi-Wan, so their arms touched. "It's hard here at night."