The celebration immediately after the Yuuzhan Vong war, or one of them

Originally I meant this to be from the point of view of a random stranger

Uh, that failed. I mean, it's me. What else can I write but... well, read and guess.

I don't own Star Wars, of course

So many people, laughing, chatting – relaxed and happy for the first time in almost five years. Snatches of conversation float towards me through the crowds, meandering their way to my senses among the music the band is playing. I can't pick out any individual words – it's impossible, so I don't even try.

I look round the huge hall, smiling at everyone, though they don't see me. The dance floor is full of happy couples, swaying in time to the jazzy melody of the music.

I take another sip from the glass in my hand and pull a face. Looking up, I see someone – a man, dark-haired, about fifty but with an air of childishness about him – standing over the punch bowl, sniggering. I decide to put my glass down on the table.

I step out into the crowds, let myself get swept away. I have no idea where I'm headed, only that I want to let this moment – the music, the people, the feelings and celebration – fill me. I want to store it, file it away in the deepest corners of my mind, somewhere I can take it out and embrace it whenever I need to.

The war is over. The feeling of happiness swells up inside me as I realise this for what must be the hundredth time. No more fighting, no more desperate struggles to survive. I can still hardly believe it; it's so long since I've known anything but war and fighting and battles. The last I knew anything of peace, I was still just a child, unaccustomed to the hardships of war. How things have changed.

I pause in the middle of a crowd, letting the feelings wash over me again. I can feel the relief of the pilots, the happiness of families reunited, the love of couples together.

Something like all of this crashes over me suddenly, and I can't help but gasp. Such emotion; I don't think I've felt it before. I look up, wondering what's happening, and my senses are overwhelmed by a single, familiar, reassuring presence.

I see a flash of dark, silver-shot hair and green eyes before someone embraces me, squeezing air out of my lungs and sending shockwaves of happiness through me again.

"It's over," he murmurs into my hair, then pulls away and holds me by the shoulders, grinning like the rest of the room, sending another tingle of happiness through me. "Over!" he exclaims, louder this time, and I laugh.

"It is, it is, it's over," I manage through my cheerful laughter, surprised I can manage to say anything. They're the first words I've spoken all evening, as overwhelmed as I was with awe and disbelief at what they represent. The war really is over, I try and tell myself again. "Over," I repeat, still unable to say anything else.

The band starts up another song, something more melodic, slower but happier. I vaguely notice the mood of the dance floor shift and then he grabs my hand again. "Dance?" he asks, and it's all I can do to nod.

Within moments, I'm in the middle of the dance floor, marvelling at how comfortable and right it feels in his arms, though I've never been there before. I sigh and rest my head against his shoulder, still trying to soak in the feelings from the celebration, to store them up. Yet I find my mind straying and soaking in the feeling of his arms, his scent, the emotions I can feel from him through our bond.

I sense him smile against my hair, and I do the same against his shoulder. Really, this is so perfect that it's hard to believe we haven't done it before. But there's no time for questions or regrets, as the emotions of the crowd continue to soar through us both, drawing on our own contentment, making it impossible for anything negative to pierce the aura of happiness surrounding us.

Something stirs and rises as the music flows through us, and I feel his hand on my chin, in my hair, then his lips on mine – or mine on his. It's impossible to tell which, difficult to discern whose feelings are whose. But they're the same, and the elation soars through us both as the kiss is deepened.

Something slams into us as we realise the same thing at the same time, and as the music fades between songs, he pulls away, his gaze burning into mine. Still the emotions of the crowd swirl through us, mingle with our own and blend until we can't tell the difference between ourselves and the crowd.

But we don't need to, as the same thought, the same feeling floods through us both. Rather than trivialise it by putting it into words, we close the gap between us once again for another long, slow, warm kiss.

It reinforces what we know, what we feel, what has been there for so long and denied until now. We embrace the feeling, the knowledge and revel in it. All that matters now is our love.