“I want to run from you.”
Cecilia’s hands twitch where they rest on her lap. Gigi doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. Just looks at her, calm, like she expected this. Like she already knew.
Cecilia hates that. Hates the way Gigi always seems to understand her before she even understands herself.
“Okay.” Gigi’s voice is quiet, steady. “So run.” Acting as if she hadn’t just tugged the automaton back.
Cecilia exhales sharply. Her hands rise before she can stop them, reaching, reaching—fingertips brushing Gigi’s cheeks before pinching the soft skin and tugging. Hard.
“Owie.” Gigi whines, but it’s lazy, half-hearted. She doesn’t pull away. Just sits there, letting Cecilia stretch her face into something ridiculous. Something that should make her laugh.
It doesn’t.
It makes her chest ache.
Cecilia’s grip loosens, but she doesn’t let go.
“You look stupid.” Her voice is quieter now. “Weirdo.”
Gigi grins, lips still caught between Cecilia’s fingers. “You’re the one holding my face like a freak.”
Cecilia should pull away. She should let go and leave and stop pretending like she doesn’t already know where this is going.
But her hands stay.
Her thumbs smooth over Gigi’s cheekbones, barely there, a touch so soft it almost isn’t one at all.
Her throat tightens.
“Why did I have to be in love with you?”
It’s not meant to be said out loud.
But it is.
Gigi’s eyes soften, her smile fading into something quieter, something knowing. She doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tease. Just lifts her own hand and covers Cecilia’s, pressing their palms together against her cheek. Warm. Steady.
Cecilia should run.
But she doesn’t.
God, she doesn’t.
A beat of silence stretches between them, and for a moment, Cecilia lets herself just breathe, hands still tangled with Gigi’s, the ache in her chest not quite as sharp, but still there.
“Gosh, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Cecilia mutters, staring at their joined hands. Her voice cracks in a way she hadn’t meant for it to.
Gigi tilts her head slightly, raising an eyebrow, always with that lazy, teasing smile that could disarm even the deepest thoughts. “Well, if you ran... I think you’d trip with those heels,” she says, the words light and easy.
Cecilia’s lips tremble, and for some reason, the absurdity of it all hits her right then. She starts to laugh, but it’s not really laughter. More like a breathless, surprised exhale that cracks somewhere in between.
And then, just like that, the tears come. Not from anger. Not from frustration. Just because in this moment, with Gigi’s steady smile and that quiet acceptance, it feels like the only thing left to do.
Gigi’s eyes widen, and in a heartbeat, the teasing is gone. “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t—uhm… wait, I didn’t mean to—”
Cecilia shakes her head, a quiet laugh escaping despite the tears. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” she breathes, and before Gigi can say anything else, Cecilia pulls her closer.
She presses Gigi’s face to her chest, arms wrapped around her like a lifeline, like if she holds her close enough, she can stop time for just a moment. Just a moment of feeling safe, of feeling like she’s not drowning under the weight of everything she had just said.
Gigi hesitates for a moment, before her arms wind around Cecilia’s waist, pulling her even closer, if that’s possible.
“You’re… ridiculous,” Gigi says, her voice muffled against Cecilia’s shirt, but there’s no teasing in it now. Just something soft. Something that feels like enough.
“I know,” Cecilia murmurs, a smile tugging at her lips even as her eyes are still wet with tears. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re my mess,” Gigi replies, her tone low, serious, and completely sincere.