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He had been off-duty for about two hours when it happened.
The cantina was reasonably packed, by both humans and non-humans alike, although the former certainly had a larger number, mingling both amongst their own and sometimes with the aliens, in groups of threes and fours. There were a couple of loners sitting at the bar, all of them humans, two of them his fellow off-duty officers, and Eli was certain that there are more of them tucked in the corners and wedged inside the social groups already formed when he walked in. The band was shitty, playing that one song that Eli always heard whenever he was here or when he’s not listening to the official Imperial radio (twice a week during his free time after his early evening shift, he knows he was supposed to cut back on it but he can’t help it), and there were two Twi’lek dancers swaying along with the music, as per usual. He was somewhat a regular at this point, and despite the rising prominence of the system, and the eagerness of the new governor to put it more under the spotlight and contribute more to the war effort, this was the only good cantina for miles, at least the nearest one in proximity from the base he was stationed.
Eight standard months have passed, and, even if Lothal wasn’t what he envisioned when he first planned his own career path, it was growing to feel a little like home. Eli would go to the cantina once or twice a standard week, never more, have some light drinks, sometimes with colleagues, and then go home before curfew.
At least, it has always been that way, before he came along.
This particular evening, Eli was alone, looking to unwind after the day’s work. He’d been off-duty since roughly two hours ago, technically, but he put an hour in the combat simulator (he was very much certain that he’d never ever see actual combat, being a supply officer, but it was regulation and the Empire likes keeping its men and women fit and ready) and then in the fresher. He wasn’t in uniform, either, finding it easier to blend in and avoid trouble (which was rare since the cantina was often frequented by fellow officers and troopers, and it was located in a secure district, but his father taught him that it was good to be prepared), and he’d just knocked down his first drink when he finally noticed someone familiar.
Three of the loners sitting at the bar were humans, two of them Imperial officers. The fourth one was humanoid, but his skin was the colour of the sky above Eli’s home planet, dark blue in the fairly dim lighting of the cantina. If he turned around, his eyes would be glowing red, like two luminescent crystals, something straight out of the childhood tales his mother told him when Eli was a boy.
Eli knows him. The memory of the night welled up, a not-so-old wound opening up again, tainting whatever warm feelings he felt towards the alien, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He scowled, instinctively, ordering another drink. He was halfway through it when the two familiar words resurfaced in his mind—screw it—and he didn’t bother finishing it, instead hauling himself up, and started making his way towards the alien, only stopping for a second, watching him politely refuse the advances of an attractive female Pantoran.
“Thrawn,” Eli said, more of a thinly veiled curse than a greeting. The alien—the Chiss—turned, slightly, and Eli fancied that he could see the ghost of a smile. He felt the sudden flash of irritation.
“Ah, Lieutenant Vanto,” the alien called Thrawn greeted him in return, politely. Eli felt the sudden rising urge to deck him full in the face. “Fancy seeing you here. Have a seat.”
He gestured at the empty seat beside him—a coveted seat, as it turns out, because Eli could feel the burning gaze of the Pantoran that Thrawn had spurned earlier—as if this was his home and Eli was his honoured guest.
Eli frowned, but approached closer, tentatively at first. “Fancy seeing you here,” he told him, voice dripping with sarcasm as he seated himself beside the alien. “It’s been, what, two, three standard months? I thought you had forgotten all about Lothal.”
Something crossed Thrawn’s face, and Eli thought the closest human translation to it was troubled. Thrawn briefly looked troubled at his remark. But he flicked his glowing eyes calmly to the drink in front of him (still mostly full, as was his habit) before he gazed back at Eli, and he was in control once more. “You should know by now that forgetting things wasn’t in my nature, Lieutenant Vanto. I merely had some…business off-planet. I cannot forsake them.”
“Suit yourself,” Eli told him, a little ruder than he intended, but he found that he could hardly bring himself to care. Perhaps it was the drinks, or perhaps the atmosphere. Or perhaps…it was the memory of the night before he left. Eli felt heat rising to his cheeks, but hoping that Thrawn didn’t notice it. “I’m off-duty,” he pointed out. “You can drop all the mentions of rank.”
Thrawn raised a fraction of his blue-black eyebrow, but gave him a nod. “May I call you Vanto, then?”
There’s no need to be so formal, Eli wanted to tell him, but bit his tongue. “Yes, you can certainly call me that. Or Eli. Whatever floats your waterspeeder.”
Thrawn nodded again, taking a sip of his drink. Not a strong one, Eli presumed. Thrawn avoided getting drunk at all costs. “Eli,” he said, trying out the syllables, sounding somewhat satisfied. “That means we’re friends now?”
Now he really wanted to punch him in the face, considering, but he only nodded, ordering another drink from the bartender (not a serving droid, just a sullen-looking human male). He can’t help but felt Thrawn’s lingering gaze on him, and wondering what really goes on inside that alien mind of his. If he was thinking what Eli was thinking. If he felt how he was feeling, not only about that evening, but also whatever they had between them. “Yeah,” Eli said, softly, not looking at him. “We’re friends.”
A silence fell between them, filled with other people’s laughter and the buzz of conversation. At some point, the band had been replaced by a female singer, human, and the atmosphere has taken a somewhat more sombre tone. There are more people coming into the cantina, and someone had deserted the bar only to be replaced by a couple, a human man and a human woman, and they sat at the far end of the bar together, holding hands, chatting quietly amongst themselves. When his drink arrived, Eli gulped nearly half of it. That was his last alcoholic drink for the night. Thrawn wasn’t the only one who’s very keen on avoiding getting drunk.
“You were mad at me,” Thrawn stated, breaking the silence. Eli gave him a cursory glance but avoided catching his gaze. “You were mad at me because I left, weren’t you,” he continued, seemingly not bothered by Eli’s lack of response. “You thought I was leaving Lothal forever, that I would never come back. You were even angrier because the night before I left, we—“
“This isn’t the time nor the place, Thrawn,” Eli cuts him off, shooting him a warning glance. There are still two other Imperial officers sitting at the bar some distance away from them, thankfully not in earshot, but Eli didn’t feel like risking it. The music wasn’t loud enough to drown their voices completely. “But fine, yeah, I was mad at you. I thought that you’d never come back. And you just…left,” he added, aware of the bitterness in his voice. “How am I supposed to know that you’re coming back?”
There was another silence. Eli took another gulp, and Thrawn did the same beside him. “I am sorry,” Thrawn finally said, inclining his head slightly in Eli’s direction. “I did not mean to hurt you. Perhaps I should have let you know that I was coming back. I could have left you a message.”
“Three standard months is a long time, dammit,” Eli growled, his earlier anger—the one he’d let grow for the past three months—returning and growing with a vengeance. He slammed his glass on the table, not really caring about the attention it attracted, but the fury quickly ebbing. Eli wasn’t a person predisposed to anger, and he was never able to sustain it for long periods of time. “You could have let me know,” he said, tone softening, lowering his voice considerably. “I tried calling you in the encrypted frequency you gave me. It wasn’t working.”
“The business I was handling had its fair share of dangers,” Thrawn responded, his tone level, although Eli noticed the slight wavering. He lowered his voice considerably, too, turning slightly to face him, their legs almost touching but not quite. “I did not want to expose you to them, accidentally or otherwise. I’m sorry, Eli.”
Eli nodded, feeling quite embarrassed from his recent outburst. He curled his hand around his glass, now mostly empty, swirling the bright liquid inside it for a bit before responding. “I accept your apology,” he told him, watching the Chiss. “Next time let me know before you went off-planet for months. I do hope that it went well, though, whatever it was.”
Thrawn favoured him with a slight, relieved smile, and Eli felt the same relief wash over him. “It did. I have encountered Gamorreans before, and the syndicate they worked for, and I know how to successfully negotiate with them.”
“I bet you did,” Eli remarked, remembering the time Thrawn told him what he knows about art, the fascinating collection he had in his private datapad. What he can use it for. Eli finished his drink. “We could use a talent like yours, in the Empire. Have you ever thought about joining the Empire?”
Thrawn glanced at him sideways, the ghost of a smile returning, before it was replaced by a more thoughtful look. Eli waited. “Perhaps in another universe,” he said, taking another sip of his drink. “I have heard good things about it. Although of course the news can’t be fully trusted. But I trusted you,” he added, surprisingly. “I trusted your judgement, Lieutenant Eli Vanto.”
Eli felt his cheeks reddening, the warm feelings he felt earlier returning, too, and he quickly avoided the other’s gaze. “You barely know me,” he told him, although he believed him. “How can you say that you trusted me?”
Eli dared to steal a glance at him, and Thrawn looked him straight in the eye, the earlier thoughtful look returning. “You are honest,” Thrawn remarked, smiling his enigmatic smile. “And you are also not very good at hiding your feelings. That was enough for me.”
And I like you, Eli could sense, the unspoken thing, hovering between them like a summer’s day mirage, shimmering. It was more than he could ever expect, and by nature, he never asked for much. But he did wonder. “You should wear white,” he teased him, good-naturedly. “The ISB would be glad to have you. Or NavInt.”
“Do you think I’d look good in white?” Thrawn asked, unexpectedly, and Eli was thrown off-guard for a second. He looked so serious saying it, too, and Eli found himself wanting to laugh. He did, for a bit, and Thrawn looked genuinely amused.
“Oh, absolutely,” Eli said, cannot help but grin at him. “Self-conscious now, are we? But I think you’d look good in anything. Absolutely anything.”
“I could say the same about you, Eli,” he said in return, calmly, and Eli felt his lingering gaze again, perhaps, he daresay, appraising, even if only for a moment. Eli sighed privately, suddenly hoping that he hadn’t finished his third drink so soon. He could use one just about now. He opened his mouth, about to say anything, change the topic, perhaps, but Thrawn beat him to it. “On the subject of apology, let me make it up to you. I know that you have said that you accepted my apology, however, I think that it’s best if I make it up to you. Don’t you agree?”
Eli was flabbergasted, unable to speak. He definitely could use an extra drink now. Thrawn looked at him, expectantly, and he tried to muster something, anything. “I think so,” he managed to say, weakly. “But you don’t have to. After all, I told you earlier that I’ve accepted your apology. It’s all in the past now.”
“I insist,” Thrawn continued, glowing red eyes bore into him. “Let me make it up to you.”
Eli had a bad feeling—several, in fact—about how this could very easily go wrong, and he doesn’t trust himself enough to speak, lest he’d betray his own feelings, so he nodded at that. Thrawn seems satisfied by his assent.
“I promise that you won’t be disappointed,” Thrawn told him, smiling slightly. Eli suddenly felt as if the rest of the cantina had disappeared, and his heart had turned into a very peculiar sort of beast, thundering quietly inside his ribcage. For a moment, he was afraid that it would fly away. “Trust me.”
Everything he’d ever known told him that an alien shouldn’t be trusted, especially one as potentially dangerous, intelligent, and sophisticated as Thrawn, and even more so considering the fact that he was involved with the more seedy sort of people and beings in the galaxy—scum and villainy, the Empire called them—but his heart trusted him.
Worse, he felt like it was an inevitable turn of events. His memory flitted briefly to the night before Thrawn left, the night when they finally kissed, and he smiled at him.
“I do,” Eli said, suddenly feeling like he can’t wait. “I trust you.”
Another standard week, nearly two, passed before Eli received Thrawn’s message. They’ve exchanged messages more often ever since the apology, thrice that week other than the usual one, secretly, and Eli felt more than a little guilty, and perhaps also somewhat afraid. If the ISB officer stationed in his base found out, somehow, then he was in for a row of unpleasant questioning, if he’s lucky. But Thrawn was very good at what he do—Eli never had a concrete idea of what he actually did for a living and how he managed to get to the Empire from wherever it was he’d been marooned in Wild Space (that much at least he managed to get out of him), and he willingly turned a blind eye to his so-called business activities—and so far, the simple encryption that he’d given him, along with their private encrypted frequency, had been working.
Besides, his duty to the Empire aside, Eli felt…more than a little attracted to his alien friend.
It’s wrong, he knows, and if he’d been born in a Core world or went to the Royal Imperial Academy on Coruscant his stomach would have turned at the very least of the thought of merely being attracted to a non-human (they were only slightly better than Rebel terrorists, at least that’s the impression that was hammered into him), but Eli Vanto had been born and bred on the edge of Wild Space, in a place where the Chiss were a revered legend and the existence of a luminous, sleepless city-planet was a hearsay instead of fact. Unlike most of the Core-born officers (discounting those who’d been here since the Clone Wars), Eli had close interactions with non-human beings, as a child, growing up near the Wild Space. The thought of being attracted to one left him fairly unfazed.
Eli wondered how it’d feel like, to love a myth. A legend.
But he doesn’t really want to dwell on such thoughts. He had always been somewhat of a late bloomer, and he wasn’t yet sure that Thrawn returned his feelings, or even if he felt such feelings at all.
Regardless, the message he received had been surprising, in a good way, and when the day comes, he met Thrawn at the designated place of rendezvous, half a block away from where they were actually going.
“It’s good to see you, Eli,” Thrawn greeted him, blending in so well with the late afternoon crowd if not for his bright blue skin. He had sunglasses on, covering his glowing eyes. “As always.”
“And you,” Eli returned, taking him in. Thrawn didn’t tell him that he can do without his uniform, but Eli had the good sense to leave them behind. He hoped that he’d blend in with the crowd just as well as the other did. “Everything good?”
“Yes,” Thrawn answered immediately, inclining his head slightly. Eli doesn’t really like it when he had the sunglasses on. It makes it hard for him to tell what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. But Eli liked to imagine that the Chiss felt half as nervous as him. “I cannot wait to see this particular holomovie with you.”
Eli suppressed a laugh, but he’s not entirely successful. Thrawn looked vaguely amused. “I can’t believe you tried to make it up to me by asking me to go with you to a holomovie theatre. I haven’t gone since I was a boy.”
“Well…” Thrawn trailed off, briefly looking wistful. “I’d much prefer if I could take you to an actual theatre, but I’m afraid that’s a little above my pay grade right now. Perhaps someday.”
“Like the ones they have in Coruscant?” Eli quirked an eyebrow. There was a supplemental course on it—Core Worlds Culture—during his senior year back at the Academy, and he knows a little about theatre. It was definitely far from being his best subject—in fact second worse overall—but he can claim that he at least can name the basic, most well-known operas. Still, it was an amusing if a somewhat heartwarming image, them going into a theatre, an exiled Chiss and a humble Imperial supply officer. It sounds almost like the beginning of a joke. But he liked it. “Maybe someday. I’d like that.”
Thrawn smiled, softly, and Eli thought that it ended too quickly. “I know you would.”
A companionable silence fell between them, and Eli was glad when Thrawn suddenly—but gracefully—took off his sunglasses and pocketed it. “Shall we, then?” he told the Chiss, softer than he intended.
“Of course,” he told him, in the same tone, and when their hands brush, Eli wished that he could hold his.
The trip to the theatre was shorter than he’d expected, in Thrawn’s company. He had always been good company—mostly why Eli felt naturally attracted to him—but the brief walk was enjoyable. Thrawn was very good at reading people, something which Eli felt that he himself lacked, and it was always amusing to hear his running commentary about how that man definitely stole that speeder bike or why that woman is cheating on her wife. He was feeling talkative, Eli noticed, and relaxed as well. He was definitely in a good mood.
The holomovie was about something contemplating life, or something like that (he couldn’t tell, it was rather absurd, and he doesn’t understand art), but Eli could have cared less.
Thrawn, to his eternal surprise, took his hand before they went into the theatre—Eli had decided to treat himself and forgot all about the Empire’s spartan policies for a bit and therefore took the liberty to got himself some snacks and a cold drink, a moment’s folly—and hold it, gently, his hand calloused and slightly cool against Eli’s, but real and strong at the same time. Eli momentarily forgot all about other people and his extravagance with the snacks and drink earlier, heat rising to his cheeks. He could feel Thrawn testing his grip, most likely marvelling at his warmth.
“Is this alright?” he asked, quietly, and Eli briefly remembered the kiss they shared, sloppy drunk and…not very graceful, but he still remembered how his lips tasted. He nodded at him, speechless. Thrawn smiled, slightly, and Eli could feel the touch of his fingers on his, gentle and careful. “I am glad,” he said, nodding slightly at him in return. “If you need any help…?”
He gestured towards Eli’s drink and his snacks, now held in one hand. Eli’s blush returned with a revenge, this time thanks to embarrassment. “It’s fine. I can manage.”
Thrawn once more raised an eyebrow in question but nodded. “If you say so. If you do need any help, please do not hesitate to tell me.”
Eli scowled at him, seizing the opportunity to take a couple of steps forward, pulling the alien along with him. “Let’s just get to our seats. The movie is starting.”
The movie wasn’t very good if it could be called that at all. At least, from what Eli can tell since he doesn’t get it at all. It wasn’t produced by the major company who monopolised the holomovie industry, which explains the sheer absurdity of it and the lack of audience (there was only them and a couple of others, five at most, scattered in the darkness of the theatre). It was from a less known world in the Mid Rim and was shot there for the most part, with approval from Imperial censorship, obviously. All this he gathered from the rolling credits, which Eli discovered to be more interesting than the entire one hour and fifteen minutes movie.
When the credits finished rolling, he wasn’t really surprised to found that Thrawn was still transfixed, staring at the now empty screen with a thoughtful look on his face.
“I’ve never really thought about it that way,” he said after they exited the theatre. The security guard glared at them, only briefly—she asked Thrawn to “turn off” his eyes earlier after they sat down, and Thrawn patiently explained to her that his species doesn’t work like that, politely, to the security guard’s consternation and Eli’s eternal amusement—and Eli gave her a slight smile, Thrawn’s arm linked with his. The Chiss still looked deep in thought, still absorbed in what they just saw. Eli thought that was rather cute.
“What? The movie?”
Thrawn nodded, and Eli didn’t fail to notice that they were heading towards a rather secluded, private corner. He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out if this is intentional, or if Thrawn really was still that absorbed in the movie. The other man then started rambling about something or another, something that the movie supposedly talked about, the relationship between art and despair or something. Eli couldn’t wrap his head around it—he was an Imperial supply officer, and supply officers typically do not dwell on such matters—but he listened to him, quite patiently. He had several moments like this with Thrawn in the past, although this was definitely the first time he listened to him ramble about a holomovie at length.
“I apologise for this, Eli,” he finally said, stopping himself, looking appropriately abashed. There was a purple tint to his cheeks and Eli thought that that was rather cute, too. “You must have somewhere else to be. I am sorry if I hold you up in any way.”
“No, you didn’t,” Eli told him, matter-of-factly. Thrawn had let go of his arm at some point, and Eli rather missed the slightly cool, casual touch of his skin. Contrary to what holodramas want him to believe, it didn’t set him or his heart on fire. In fact, it gave him a certain cool reassurance that he was here, not a legend, or a myth. Just a man that he’d had the chance—and possibly luck, though he doesn’t really believe in that—to run into and slowly, perhaps, fell in love with. Although Eli was definitely reluctant to categorise what they had as that, as of yet. “I have the rest of the evening free. I pulled a couple of favours from friends. They’re gonna cover for me. And…” he added, trailing off, somewhat hesitantly. It didn’t escape his attention that they have the corner for themselves, and that Thrawn was looking at him expectantly, patient as always. He can’t help but admit that his heart beats a little faster when the other man’s gaze met his. “I like hearing you talk. I like spending time with you, Thrawn.”
Thrawn nodded again, and Eli fancied that the purplish tinge that he saw earlier—twilight back at home—returned, but it could be a trick of the light. “I like spending time with you, too, Eli. And it occurs to me that I have to address this. Were you also mad because I kissed you, that night before I left Lothal?”
It was Eli’s turn to blush, and he had to fumble around for an answer. “No, I’m not mad about that. Not at all.” Thrawn raised an eyebrow, and Eli sighed in defeat. “Maybe a little,” he had to concede. “Just a little.”
“Why?” Thrawn continued, calmly. “Is it because I’m an alien?”
Eli had to process his question, more than a little taken aback. Most people pretend that it didn’t exist, and even high-ranking Imperial officers and government officials continually recited that there was no such thing as discrimination against non-humans in the Empire. Of course, Eli knows better than to blindly trust that, but he kept it to himself, and, like most people, pretended that it didn’t exist. He actually doesn’t know if it was Thrawn’s calm manner when he asked that question or the direct way he acknowledged its existence that surprised him more. He fidgeted with the hem of his tunic’s sleeve.
“Not really,” he responded, meeting his gaze, knowing that it’s futile to lie to Thrawn. “That doesn’t really bother me.”
“Then was it because I am not an Imperial officer? Part of the fringe of society?”
“No,” Eli winced at the implication but didn’t back down. “Not at all. I mean, of course, I had some reservations at first, but that’s not why.”
Thrawn raised his blue-black eyebrow again, fractionally, a genuinely confused look crossed his expression for a split second. Or at least, what Eli could interpret as that. He braced himself for the inevitable question. “Naturally. But please explain why you were mad, Eli. Other than the explanation you have already supplied me with.”
There was something like expectation in his glowing eyes, something like hope, and Eli swallowed, hard. He looked him in the eye, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I was mad because I liked you, Thrawn. And I wasn’t sure that you returned my feelings.”
A brief sort of silence fell between them, and Eli felt his heart thudding so hard that it might as well burst out of his chest. Sometimes, when he’s around Thrawn, it felt like his heart had a life of its own, demanded a life of its own, and it was hard to act like there was nothing. He exhaled, avoiding Thrawn’s gaze. He was more than a little surprised when he felt a touch of his hand on his arm, prompting him to look at him.
“I know,” Thrawn said, simply, and with anyone else, it would look cocky, presumptuous, but with him, it felt like the logical conclusion. It felt like closure. “I liked you too, Eli. Romantically. And eventually, if you’d allow me, I’d like to try sexual intercourse with you.”
Eli was absolutely surprised by this turn of phrase, if not events, and he felt heat rising into his cheeks, blushing madly, the power of speech evading him. “Thrawn!” he can only exclaim, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. The offending Chiss looked vaguely amused by his reaction. “There’s no need to mention that just yet,” he growled, pushing him by the chest playfully. “Stars, stop ruining the moment.”
“I just thought I’d make it clear to you,” he explained, now looking fully amused. “Would you like me to retract that statement?”
“No, I…I fully return your sentiment,” Eli managed to admit, still flabbergasted. “But let’s stick to the topic.”
Thrawn favoured him with a smile, his usual smile, gracefully stepping closer so their chests almost touch. Eli found that he doesn’t mind at all. “The topic being our relationship. Or the lack thereof. Does this mean that we are…partners now?” he asked, and Eli wished he’d stop talking and closed the distance between them, the distance that now felt somehow even more unbearable. “May I kiss you, Eli Vanto?”
That was the right question, and Eli tilted his face up, pulling the taller Chiss close. “Yes,” he told him, and pressed his lips on his, gently. Thrawn immediately returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around his waist, and Eli deepened the kiss, sweetly. It was even better now that they weren’t drunk.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now,” Thrawn confessed after they pulled away, catching their breath. There was a hint of smugness in his expression, and Eli thought it amusing. “For around five standard months, at the very least.”
“So the one we shared that night doesn’t count?”
“Not really,” Thrawn hums, brushing a stray lock from Eli’s brow. “But I treasured that too. As I treasure you.”
Eli had to laugh, pushing him away gently. “You need to learn that flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, Thrawn. But I have to ask you: was this a date, then?”
Thrawn reached for his hand, gently, interlocking their fingers together. It felt, vaguely, like coming home to a place that Eli never knew existed, but it felt good, nevertheless. It felt like they belonged. “All I can say is that I know you’d return my sentiments.”
“So you tricked me into a date?”
“I never said I tricked you into a date with me,” Thrawn stated, but his eyes sparkle with mirth. “Although you can put it that way if you’d like.”
Eli smiled, feeling reassured by his hand on his. He moved closer to land another kiss, first on his lips, and then his cheek. “I don’t feel cheated at all. But next time maybe let me know.”
“I will,” Thrawn promised, and it felt like the promise of something more, like the start of something new.