#ckw26

Day 1: June 21st Family | “We’re stronger together” | A Life Worth the Harm | Mantis

Day 2: June 22nd Found/Lost | “I’ve got this” | And Eternity in an Hour | Escape Pod

Day 3: June 23rd Leap | “All day, everyday” | Words of Encouragement | Nekko

Day 4: June 24th Future/Past | “Why are you looking at me like that” |  Caves That Once Were Rivers | Blasters

Day 5: June 25th Music | “You want me to do what” | Sign of the Times | Starfield

Day 6: June 26th Rise/Fall | “I want to help” | Despite Everything You’re Still You | Echo

The lower levels of Coruscant smelled of ozone, recycled air, and despair. The endless hum of speeder traffic was a constant, oppressive drone overhead, but down here, in the shadowed canyons between monolithic towers, the sound was muted, replaced by the distant echo of bootsteps, Imperial bootsteps. You and Cal had been moving like ghosts for days, a pair of wanted specters haunting the undercity. Cal Kestis, with his shock of ginger hair and the telltale hilt of his lightsaber hidden beneath a ragged poncho, was a beacon for every stormtrooper patrol. You, a fellow Jedi on the run, knew the feeling all too well.

The strategy was simple: keep moving, never stay in one place for more than a few minutes, and use the teeming masses as a cloak. You’d ducked into a dozen little shops: a droid parts vendor, a stall selling questionable meat skewers, and a dimly lit tapcaf playing tinny holographic music. Each time, you’d linger just long enough for the white-armored patrols to clank past the transparisteel windows, their helmeted heads swiveling in mechanical unison. Cal’s tension was a live wire beside you, his hand never straying far from his concealed weapon.

“Just another couple of spacers down on their luck,” you’d mutter, pulling the brim of your own hood lower. Cal would nod, his jaw tight, his bright green eyes scanning every exit.

But the net was tightening. A routine patrol had somehow turned into a coordinated sweep. You could hear the amplified voices echoing down the alleyways. “By order of the Imperial Security Bureau, halt for inspection!” They were corralling you, herding you away from the main thoroughfares and into a labyrinth of service alleys.

Your breaths came in short, sharp gasps as you ran, Cal right on your heels. The alley narrowed, the walls closing in, covered in grimy pipes and flickering emergency strips. You took a left, then a right, hoping for a cross-passage, a maintenance hatch, anything.

Dead end.

A high plascrete wall, stained with years of runoff, loomed ahead. The only features were an overflowing dumpster and a single, flickering glow panel that cast everything in a sickly yellow light. Behind you, the methodical, marching footsteps grew louder. A squad. Maybe two. There was no shop to duck into, no crowd to blend with. It was just you, Cal, and a wall.

Cal spun, his back to the dead end, his eyes wide with a panic he was trying desperately to master. “We’re trapped,” he breathed, his hand moving to his poncho. “We have to fight.”

Fighting meant blaster bolts, lightsabers igniting, and an immediate alert to every Imperial within ten levels. It meant capture, or death. There had to be another way. Your mind raced, discarding possibilities as fast as the bootsteps grew closer. And then it landed on the one thing a Jedi wouldn’t think of, the one thing the Empire’s faceless enforcers would overlook.

You turned to Cal, the plan crystallizing in an instant. “Quick, kiss me.”

He blinked, the panic in his eyes shifting to pure, unadulterated confusion. The red-headed Jedi stared at you as if you’d just suggested levitating the entire wall. “You want me to do what?” The incredulity in his voice was almost louder than the approaching stormtroopers.

There was no time for debate, for gentle persuasion. The first white helmet was about to round the corner. With a roll of your eyes that was equal parts exasperation and fondness, you closed the distance between you. You placed a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back against the cold, damp wall.

He let out a soft 'oof' of surprise, but before he could protest further, you captured his lips with your own.

For a second, he was rigid, frozen in shock. Then, instinct, or something deeper, something you’d both been too busy running to acknowledge, took over. His body relaxed against the wall. Your other hand came up, tangling in the soft, ginger strands of his hair, holding him close. The kiss deepened, a desperate, convincing performance that quickly blurred the lines between act and authenticity. You could taste the faint tang of the ration bar on his lips and feel the rapid beat of his heart against your palm. His own hands, usually so sure and capable, fumbled for a moment before settling on your hips, gripping the fabric of your jacket. You could feel the rapid beat of his pulse where your thumb brushed his jaw. The world narrowed to the warmth of his mouth, the slight scratch of his stubble, and the quiet, desperate sounds neither of you fully stifled.

The boot steps rounded the corner and halted.

You didn’t pull away. You poured everything into the kiss, the fear, the exhaustion, the unspoken camaraderie of shared survival. You explored his mouth, a silent promise and an apology all at once. Cal, after his initial shock, responded in kind, his hands coming up to grip your arms, not to push you away, but to anchor himself.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the glow of white armor. You heard a muttered, electronically distorted voice. “Ugh. Just a couple. Move along.”

A gruff laugh. “Get a room, you two.”

The bootsteps resumed, fading back down the alley the way they came, moving on to hunt less romantically preoccupied prey.

It took another long moment after the sound had completely disappeared for you to break the kiss, pulling back just enough to rest your forehead against his. You were both breathing heavily, though not from the run this time.

Cal’s eyes were wide, his face flushed beneath his freckles. The alarm was gone, replaced by a dazed, vulnerable wonder. He searched your face, his lips still slightly parted.

“That…” he started, his voice a hoarse whisper. “That was…”

“The only thing I could think of,” you finished, your own voice not much steadier. Your hand was still in his hair.

He didn’t move to dislodge it. A faint, incredulous smile touched his lips. “It was a good think.” He paused, the smile fading into something more serious. “A really good think.”