Perhaps he was in the wrong. Perhaps he should have payed you more attention. Say, valued you more. His defense? He was a busy man. He was a famous singer, with not much time for 'personal matters'.

He spent the days sleeping in. Attempting to recover some energy after the night-long parties, rehearsals, and ocassional gigs. Confidentiality, nights were the only moment where he chose to be available to see you. 'The night is mainly made to say the things that you can't say tomorrow day.'

And so, he would crawl his way back to you, at least twice a week. Not without carefully crafting a new excuse for his absence. It was a vicous cycle he had got himself stuck in. Firstly refusing to act like a normal person, like a boyfriend, and pay you regular visits, and then spending nights awake with no other thought in his head than you.

Writing songs, playing tunes that reminded him of you over and over again, until he fell asleep.

A knock at your door, soft at first. Then another, now more firm. "I know you're there..." Anakin sighed from outside your flat. "I know I've messed up a couple of times, but I promise, I only want you, okay?" Despite his endeavor possibly emerging out of mere need to kill a few hours, his 'beaten-up puppy' face expressed many emotions his words did not.