exhale ; chirrut + baze

8 / face-mapping

CHIRRUT BREATHED IN DEEPLY, his whole body tingling as the duo walked back to the temple. Baze, next to him, if his soft humming was an indication, was feeling the same - the man almost buzzing with serenity from the spring. The pair were otherwise silent for most of the journey back, Chirrut's comment still hanging in the air between them, stopping them from uttering a single word.

"Baze."

The humming stops. "Yes?"

"I want to ask you a question," said Chirrut slowly, "But I do not want to speak out of turn." Like my previous comment, he almost added.

"Okay," Baze replied, hesitancy edging his voice.

"How old are you?"

Baze bit his lip. "Chirrut . . . I don't see how -"

"Y-you're right," Chirrut blabbered, practically clambering away from Baze in embarassment. "It's a dumb question, I think I'll just go now - I'm sorry -"

"Chirrut, hey, I-" Baze reaches for him, but Chirrut is already dashing down a narrow lane, disappearing from his line of sight.

Baze grumbled to himself. Will he ever get this man to stop running away from him? He picked up his pace, jogging after Chirrut. Entering the lane, he frowned - a dead end? - and Chirrut was nowhere to be seen.

"Chirrut?" he called out. "Where are you?" No one answered his question. Baze was about to call out again when his eyes settled on the wall in front of him. Parts of the brick jutted out from the uneven surface, the jagged edges devoid of what should be caked with dust.

Tentatively, Baze placed a foot onto one of the holds, and lifted the rest of his body up, testing his weight on it. The brick held. Baze lifted his other foot, and surely enough, another hold was in place, and before long, he hoisted himself up onto the roof.

Chirrut sat by the edge of the building, his knees tucked under his chin. Baze treaded over to him, settling down and letting his feet dangle over the roof. Chirrut said nothing to Baze's presence.

Baze's voice was small. "I'm three and twenty."

Chirrut's eyebrows raised slightly, but he remained silent.

"And about your comment . . . I know you don't mean any offense by it. I am your teacher, but I'm pretty sure we're almost the same age. And considering what you know about my . . . troubles, I'm sure we can afford to be more . . . " Baze struggled to find the word, ". . . amicable than other Guardians."

"Amicable," Chirrut echoed, the word sounding more foreign in his mouth than Baze liked.

"Friendly," Baze supplied.

"Is that what we are? Friends?"

"I-I mean," Baze scratched the back of his head, before admitting, "I want us to be."

"I don't even know anything about you."

"Trust me," Baze chortled, his laughter a gentle rumble of a mountain. "You already know more than most."

"I don't even know what you look like," Chirrut mumbled, slightly irritated. Baze was wrong - other people knew more than him.

Oh. Oh. "I'm sorry," Baze replied quickly, "I didn't mean to offend you."

It was Chirrut's turn to sound small now. "It's okay."

Silence expanded between them once again.

Before reason could set in, Chirrut blurted out, "Are you handsome?"

Baze sputtered. "W-what?"