It started out as a small note. Just a small piece of flimsi with Thrawn's neat handwriting across it in dark ink.
You look very nice today.
Why Thrawn could not just tell him that in words Pellaeon did know, especially since they've been married for six years now.
He had admit though, there was something nice and novel about receiving a compliment in the written form. It felt more permanent than spoken word; it was certainly longer lasting. That first note had brought a smile to his face that had lasted well into the day.
The morning after that he had made sure to wake up before Thrawn, just so he could leave his own note behind in reply.
If he had known what it would evolve into, Pellaeon might have started the habit himself years ago.
One response became two, then four, then ten. Phrases sometimes lengthened to short paragraphs. Occasionally either he or Thrawn would manage to reach a whole page of compliments or praise or whatever nice thing they felt like saying about the other. A few wound up being somewhat risqué, although Thrawn always ended up making his purposefully ridiculous and those always managed to make Pellaeon laugh even on the bad days.
Over time Pellaeon had collected so many he started keeping them in a box hidden in a drawer. He knew that Thrawn kept his notes in a similar place – although Pellaeon had to wonder if they would eventually start taking their own jokes about starting a scrapbook seriously.
They still spoke of course, but the notes had become something of a ritual. And while one of them would occasionally comment on how ridiculous it might seem if anyone else found out about it, neither one ever attempted to stop.
But it was on Pellaeon's seventy-ninth birthday that he received what was more of an essay than a note. The message stretched over five pages of flimsi, each filled with the careful penmanship he had come to know more than his own.
The length had made Pellaeon a bit nervous at first, but as he picked up the pages and started to read the fear quickly disappeared.
It was probably the longest thing Thrawn had ever said to him without interruption or pause, and certainly one of the most heartfelt. There were a few times when Pellaeon had to stop reading altogether for a few minutes to keep from crying.
Pellaeon wondered if Thrawn had thought that the barrier of paper between them was necessary for this level of emotion. He probably did, given that even after years of married life he still had some reserves when it came to expressing feelings.
He began to read the final paragraph and had to laugh. "'I apologize if any of this came off as awkward,'" Pellaeon repeated out loud with a shake of his head. "Bless his heart."
It's just that I know I love you more than anything, but I didn't know if you knew that. I needed you to know that – I just didn't know how to say it. I suppose that I still don't, seeing as how I had to write it down. I think that you'll appreciate this regardless of that personal failing on my part. You have always made an effort to accommodate me and my eccentricities, and I hope that you will find yourself able to accept this one like all the others. Despite my doubts I already know you will in my heart, and that amazes me, even after all these years. It amazes me that I've found someone who cares about me in the same way that I care about him.
Happy birthday, my dear. I love you.
Pellaeon swore quietly under his breath and smiled as he wiped away some lingering wetness in his eyes. He decided then that if Thrawn had not already planned on starting a scrapbook, well, then he'd just have to start one himself. With these sheets making up the first few pages.