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His hands are trembling, and it’s not from the alcohol he pretended to drink to have an excuse to come to the bar tonight. It’s not from the lie he told Admiral Konstantine as for why he wanted to go down to the surface of whatever backwater planet they had been circling for weeks. It’s not even from the near-death experience he'd faced against those pesky Ghost Crew rebels earlier today. They’d gotten away again, as they always had. No, none of that mattered now.
Right now, he wasn’t a fearsome ISB agent on patrol. He wasn’t a cog in the machine or a weapon of destruction. Right now, he was just a terrified, middle-aged blond man hiding in a dirty bathroom stall, clutching a marker in his left hand. Right now his name isn’t Kallus. It’s Alexsandr, it’s Sasha, as his mother used to call him, and he’s about to admit something to himself that he could never do within Imperial walls.
Taking in a shaky breath, he uncaps the marker with an echoing ‘pop’ in the empty room and points it at the heavily written-upon wall. It’s brick, painted white but faded gray. Littered with stickers, phone numbers, words, and crude drawings of phalluses. The yellow-tinted light above him flickers as if threatening to go out. Alexsandr stands there for a moment, a plain black jacket tugged tightly around his body to hide any Imperial logos, and places the marker to the wall.
He writes, fast and messy, and leans back with a gasp.
In bright red lettering, the words ‘I’m GAY’ are scrawled upon the wall, another tattoo blending in with all the others.
Alexsandr looks at it for a few long moments, letting the truth seep into his bones. He’d fought with himself for years in the Empire to be anything but what he was. He’d slept with women, countless women, forcing himself to try to make a connection to any of them. But he never did. The homophobic propaganda posters plastered on walls cackled at him, making him hot beneath his collared tunic as if they knew his truth. Was it so wrong of him, really? His parents had raised him to do nothing but love, but as soon as he stepped into the Imperial Academy, he was fed nothing but homophobia and xenophobia. He could never understand why.
His golden eyes shifted back into focus, staring at the words on the wall. Remembering he had written them, he sighed, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. Maybe one day, he would reach a high enough position in the Empire to finally reverse some of their hateful views, maybe he’d teach everyone forced into the closet as he was that there was nothing wrong with them. It was wishful thinking, perhaps, but he had eyes full of hope for his Empire. Belief that they were simply misguided, belief that their intentions weren’t really to hurt. Maybe if they knew one of their top agents was gay, they’d rethink some of their ways. He snapped the cap back onto the marker, dropping it onto the floor for the next person to confess with. Maybe everything still could turn out okay.
The bar was bustling when Agent Kallus left, crowds of species happily drinking and loving with no regrets. He almost looked on wistfully, but made his way out the door. He didn’t need a drink tonight.
-----
It’d been a few hours since their most recent successful supply theft here on Lothal, and Zeb had every right to knock back another with Kanan. It’d been too long since he and his friend had been able to just sit back and have a drink together, and with Hera and Sabine working on some new upgrades for the Ghost, it seemed to be the perfect time. Old Jho’s was still a safe place despite the Imperial occupation, so it was the easy choice.
“See anyone you like?” Kanan joked, watching Zeb’s misty eyes scan the crowd around them. The Lasat chuckled, shaking his head.
“Not my goal tonight, mate. But I appreciate the thought. I’ll be right back, eh? Watch my drink.” Zeb flashed him a grin and a wink before slipping out of their booth, the worn upholstery tugging at the outer pockets of his jumpsuit. Most got out of his way without him needing to ask, being that he was so large, but a few drunkards needed to be shoved aside as he made his way to the men’s room. Pushing open the swinging door with a little more force than what was necessary, he caught a glimpse of himself in the dirty, yellowed mirror as he entered the first stall. He was a mess, and seriously needed to trim his beard, but so what? He had won today, against the Empire, and people were better for it. He did his duty as a good man today, and was able to forgive himself a bit more for his past.
He was about to zip down his jumpsuit when he spotted something on the wall beside him, bright red among the mostly black writings. The words bounced through his alcohol-fuzzy brain, letters messy and panicked on the bumpy bricks. He shifted, then glanced down as his foot touched something on the floor. A red marker, and he could safely bet it was the same one used to write this confession. For a moment he wondered about the person who had written this: why here, why now? After coming up with no satisfactory answers, he scooped up the marker and removed the cap. It was dwarfed by his large, clawed hands, and because of this he almost dropped it twice. But he managed to hold on, a stupid grin crossing his face as he scribbled, ‘Me too. Too bad we missed each other’ on an invisible curved line directly underneath.
Satisfied with his addition, he pocketed the marker (It was Imperial and practically brand new - that’s hard to find!), then went ahead with unzipping his jumpsuit and finishing what he came there to do. After a quick wash of his hands, he headed back to Kanan, who was on a comm call with Hera. Zeb watched from afar for a moment, enjoying how his friend’s face lit up as he spoke to her. The kid’s in love. Precious. Finally, he sat back down, returning to his drink with a soft sigh. It was going to be a long night.
-----
Old Jho’s was one of the last businesses the Empire settled into. With the pesky owner out of the picture, it was easy to turn the establishment into an Imperial lounge. Kallus was just one of many off-duty Imperial officers who had stopped at the bar tonight, the blacks and grays of his uniform blending in for the first time while on Lothal, and he hid perfectly in the masses as he snuck to the bathroom, wondering if his confession was still on the wall where he’d left it. It would almost be a comfort for him to see it again, something stagnant in his everchanging life, a reminder of who he is and what he felt that night.
The bathroom wasn’t empty that night, but a bustle of vain officers in mirrors and stormtroopers desperately trying to take a piss through their armor. Kallus slipped through them into the first stall, locking the door behind him with a soft sigh of relief. His eyes landed on his words, a small smile gracing his lips as he read them over. That’s right, I’m gay. And it’s okay to be, even if they keep telling me it’s not. I’ll fix that. He then realized there was more written underneath, in the same red ink. He almost laughed after a moment of staring, reaching out and running a gloved hand over the anonymous reply.
“Too bad, indeed,” Alexsandr whispered.