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Thurfian stared at Zistalmu, still in shock at the other's outburst. So close. He was so, so close.
I love you. He wanted to say. I would never betray you. I love you I love you I love you.
But the words died in his throat (if they had ever begun to form at all). Because yes, it was true, Thurfian loved him. He loved Zistalmu more than anything in the galaxy. More than he could ever say. And certainly more than he was supposed to.
Those small smiles, his sly glances, his grounding presence. The way his pale blue hair fell around his face–how he wore it down and relaxed in their secret meetings–compared to his normal neat knot in the Syndicure. His loyalty to the Ascendancy, his supportive words, their quiet shared moments.
But so what? So what, did his love matter in this situation? What could he do with all the anger the other's gaze currently scorched with?
Hair tied tightly to his head, Zistalmu sat impassively in an intricately and expensively carved Mitth chair, inches and yet miles apart from Thurfian. The Irizi's gaze hardened with every passing second and Thurfian felt helpless.
He opened his mouth again– the sudden desperation to convince Zistalmu, to say anything to get him to stay. When–
“I have to go, Your Venerante.” Zistalmu said, his tone as hard as his expression.
The title hit Thurfian like a charric bolt to the chest. No. It wasn't supposed to go like this, he thought, watching Zistalmu stand up to leave. It was never supposed to be like this. They were a team. They didn't use titles, they had never demanded that from each other. All their meetings, all their secrets, they were only ever them. They were supposed to cast aside all family loyalty, unite only for the good of the Ascendancy. He would never do anything to hurt Zistalmu. Never. Surely he could see that?
“And it's Syndic Prime Zistalmu.”
As Zistalmu turned away from him, the charric burn in his chest only intensified.
He had to stop him. This couldn't be how their relationship ended. If he let Zistalmu walk through that door right now, he may never come back. All their plans could be wasted, all that effort gone to naught, burned in the embers left in the wake of Thurfian's ambition. That couldn't happen.
He would not let that happen.
“Wait!”
And before he even realized it, Thurfian had shot up, striding as fast as he could to catch up with Zistalmu. With a mind of its own, his hand grabbed for the Irizi's shoulder, the contact shooting sparks up Thurfian's arm. The other man froze, one hand on the doorknob. He turned slowly, neither men releasing their grip. Thurfian could see the conflict brewing inside Zistalmu, his shock allowing the betrayal and pain in his eyes to peek through the burgeoning hatred. Thurfian's heart pounded as they held each other's gaze. The tension was almost unbearable. He knew he only had moments until Zistalmu shook him off, and he walked out of the Mitth family homestead forever. And with that terrible thought–it all of a sudden hit him. His one possible way out of this nightmare. He knew what he had to do.
And if things went wrong…
No one could see them here. His dignity would only be lost to the eyes of the Mitth ancestors watching over the estate. And he would rather confront that sting of unrequited love than suffer the shame of never being brave enough to find out.
Despite himself, Thurfian felt a tinge relief. This might be the only way to repair the bridge burning between them. He had to show Zistalmu what he honored most.
Honesty.
“Thurfian what are you–”
And with that singular thought in mind, Thurfian grabbed Zistalmu's face and smashed their lips together.
The kiss was crude, like two mid-agers fumbling in a cleaner's closet in between classes. Zistalmu was motionless but Thurfian maintained the stiff osculation, squeezing his eyes as tightly shut as possible. (As if hoping to protect himself from the look of revulsion that was surely on Zistalmu's face).
But with no indication of movement from the chiss, they broke apart.
His spirit crumbled.
It hadn't worked.
Zistalmu did not reciprocate his feelings.
It was over.
Thurfian opened his eyes, keeping them trained to the polished wooden floor.
More devastatingly, he thought, they were over.
His eyes fell shut again, this time in resignation. How did he think that would work? Now he wished that the metaphorical charric blast had been real.
And just as he was about to speak—apologize for his transgression and plead for forgiveness–he felt a hand cup his cheek and his eyes jolted open in surprise.
With his usual gentleness, Zistalmu nudged Thurfian's face upward until he met his gaze.
A blazing wetness began to fill Thurfian's eyes. Distantly, he realized the hand cupping his cheek was the one that had been on the doorknob just moments ago.
And in Zistalmu's eyes was–
Oh.
Oh.
In those softer red eyes, contrasting the beautiful pale blue skin he had so often speculated the softness of, he saw everything he had wished for and more.
Love. Yearning. Desire. Fear. Everything he felt was reflected in the other chiss’ gaze.
A tear finally made its way out of Thurfian's eye, and he felt Zistalmu's thumb brush it away. His face was soft now, the shock still present, but the pain and betrayal had almost completely disappeared, replaced with realization and something else Thurfian couldn't quite place.
He'd definitely seen that look on Zistalmu before. Seen it whenever they'd met in the March of Silence. Seen it when Thurfian made a particularly smart comment in Syndicure meetings or an accurate jab at Thrawn. Seen a spark of it at their first meeting, and watched it only grow as their bond deepened.
Could it be? Was that really it? Had Zistalmu loved him back all along?
There was only one way to find out, and he'd already gotten this far with honesty that he might as well use it again.
“I love you.” He whispered.
And this time the words came easy. He rode off of the same adrenaline from before. The force that had finally allowed him to push the boulder to the top of the hill, and now it was rolling down the other side. His voice grew stronger as he continued on.
“I love you Zistalmu. It does not matter my family rank. I have loved you long before I was Patriarch and I will continue to love you long after. Just because I'm–”
And it was Zistalmu's turn to cut him off with a kiss. But this time the act was much more reciprocated, and Thurfian found himself melting into it. His hand made its way to Zistalmu's waist and the other Chiss’ lips pressed harder at the contact. The pair began to slowly move away from the door, until Thurfian bumped into the chaise lounge near a shelf.
Finally breaking apart, they both gulped down deep breaths and stared at each other, inches apart. Thurfian knew he was not imagining the purple dusting Zistalmu's face.
Wordlessly (simultaneously out of breath and nervous), he gently took Zistalmu's hand, guiding him to sit down on the chaise.
Neither spoke, and for a moment, Thurfian had a horrible feeling that the man would slap him and storm out of the room.
But their hands hadn't yet parted, and with a renewed determination, Thurfian looked again at Zistalmu.
The other man was gazing at the shelf, eyes brushing over the Mitth heirlooms and artifacts it contained, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
Thurfian waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. He was used to this. And no matter what, he would always, always, wait for Zistalmu. He had waited all this time for the Irizi to love him back, even if every day apart burned Thurfian's spirit a little more every time.
But if he had learned something now, it was that sometimes his actions were necessary.
Thurfian gave Zistalmu's hand a light squeeze, and his wandering gaze snapped back to Thurfian. The Patriarch gave him a tentative smile.
Slowly, and in seconds that passed like hours, Zistalmu returned a small smile.
“I'll admit,” the Irizi began, “I wasn't at all expecting that.” He squeezed Thurfian's hand, “But I cannot say that th– that this– that… your feelings are not entirely unwelcome.”
“Ah.” Thurfian began playfully, ignoring his rapid heart beat, “The way you jumped on me as of now did not seem at all ‘unwelcome’. If I do recall your advance correctly.”
Zistalmu's smile grew, and he inched closer to Thurfian, their knees now touching on the chaise. “Hmm. You may be correct in that.”
“ ‘May’? You still deny it?”
“Typical Mitth, latching on to pedantic minutiae. If we're playing that game, which of us actually acted first?” Zistalmu, even closer now, rested his head on Thurfian's shoulder, and for the first time, he did not startle at the touch.
“Certainly not me,” He replied with mock impertinence, pulling Zistalmu closer so the other could fully lean on him.
And everything was perfect.
Or well, as perfect as things could be, whispered his treacherously analytical mind. The situation in the Ascendancy was only worsening, and Thrawn was wreaking more havoc than ever.
But he had won here, at the very least. (His heart rejected calling this a “victory”. A triumph of love most certainly, but some things were better kept away from the terms of the political arena.)
Zistalmu nuzzled into his shoulder and another burst of warmth spread through Thurfian.
Yes. He had Zistalmu. And no matter what they faced, no matter what Thrawn threw at him, he would always have his closest…
Friend..? Ally?
Zistalmu's comm beeped, and the Chiss shifted to grab it without moving away from Thurfian, his head tilting as he listened to the panicked Irizi voice.
“Damn. I have to go,” Zistalmu said sourly, sitting up.
“It's alright,” Thurfian assured quickly, already missing the contact. “I'm sure you can handle it.”
Zistalmu flashed him a regretful smile and they made their way to the door. He was leaving for certain this time, but he could sense the Chiss’ slight hesitation.
Thurfian waited patiently as Zistalmu placed a hand on the doorknob, turned around, gave him a tentative kiss filled with unsaid promises, then pushed open the door and left.
The other Chiss strode down the hallway and turned out of sight. Closing the door, Thurfian walked slowly back to his chair, returning to the same position he'd been in when Zistalmu had first walked in.
Thurfian's hand made its way to his lips, softly brushing each spot he had felt Zistalmu most intensely.
He should be feeling shame. He was the damn Mitth Patriarch! He had no business fraternizing, let alone loving an Irizi Syndic! He was a disgrace to the Mitth and to every patriarch who came before him… wasn't he? That was certainly what Thivik would say if his senior aide ever found out. He'd already expressed enough disapproval at a simple meeting with Zistalmu.
But his thoughts circled back to the same linchpin of his conflict. He was the Mitth Patriarch. He could meet with, fraternize with, and kiss anyone he so damn wished.
He pulled out his questis, beginning a broadcast to the light cruiser he had decided to send to help the Irizi.
But as he replayed their kiss in his mind, he felt the same warmth bloom through him again.
He smiled. Yes. Perhaps they weren't allies. Nor friends. But lovers. Thurfian quite enjoyed turning the word over in his mind.
It might not be the most ideal situation, but it was certainly one of the better ones. And Thurfian knew that no matter what they faced in the future, they would do it together. Him and Zistalmu.
“Lovers,” he whispered, sending the broadcast. The words left his mouth as both a declaration, and a promise.