Gigi had nothing more to do. She had finished her stream for the day, done her dailies—she even completed her homework on time this time.
But, alas, when you complete everything on your to-do list… there’s nothing left to do. Her greatest solution? Well, of course, sprawl out on the marble floor of the lookout room, located just at the corner of Justice’s headquarters.
Now, she shouldn’t be here, as this was where Justice conducted most of their duties—meetings, surveillance, and information sharing.
Elizabeth will yell at me. Then, she would send Raora over with cookies, because Elizabeth would feel apologetic for scolding her afterward.
A grin plastered on her face—what a sight that would be. And the free cookies were just a plus.
Back to the room. Sprawled out on the floor. Truthfully, Gigi had more reasons to be here, though none of them were valid. But she liked to think, in her own little mind, that they were. They all connected and pointed to the same thing.
Cecilia.
Gigi had been thinking—and that’s not something she does often. She liked to turn off her brain, but today? Today, she had nothing to distract her. And so, her mind wandered.
Cecilia was her friend, coworker, and ultimately genmate. That alone should have deterred and repelled the gremlin from thoughts that weren’t so savoury. She shouldn’t be feeling this way, and she definitely shouldn’t be so hung up over it.
Yet, here she was—frustrated at how frustratingly infatuated Cecilia made her feel. It was like a game of tug-of-war, one where her feelings always seemed to win. Every small interaction felt amplified—the way Cecilia smiled, the way her voice caught on certain words, or the way she leaned just a little too close when they worked together. It wasn’t even intentional, but it made Gigi’s heart race and her thoughts scatter.
She sighed, feeling both annoyed with herself and strangely comforted by the chaos Cecilia sparked inside her. It was frustrating, sure, but it was also... undeniable. Gigi didn’t want to feel like this. It wasn’t a part in any of her plans. But the more she tried to push the feelings down, the more they bubbled up, unstoppable and uninvited.
Gigi lets out a sigh, staring at the ceiling as if it were the only thing that understood her. “Do you think it’s stupid that I won’t just go talk to her about it? I mean, she’s my colleague and friend, yes. But what if I… lose her? Like, I know it sounds childish. We’re all adults here, and life doesn’t unravel like it does in stories and shows. But I still feel scared.”
Her tail sways erratically, her nerves working overtime just from speaking her thoughts aloud. The ceiling doesn’t change—it has no expressions for Gigi to read, no way to tell her how it feels.
“You’re such a good listener. You understand me.”
“Gigi, who are you talking to?”
…
Gigi froze, her tail halting mid-sway as she scrambled for a response. Her eyes flicked to the door, where Elizabeth stood, arms crossed and a raised eyebrow—her usual look of bemused concern.
“Uh, just… myself,” Gigi stammered, trying to regain her composure. “You know, thinking out loud. It helps sometimes.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m not sure you’re the only one who’s listening.” She stepped into the room, glancing at Gigi’s still-stretched-out form on the floor. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”
Gigi groaned, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t have a ‘look.’”
“Oh, you definitely do.” Elizabeth gave a knowing chuckle. “So, what’s the ‘look’ about this time? Another Cecilia-related crisis?”
Gigi stared at the ceiling again, trying to avoid Elizabeth’s probing gaze. Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of Cecilia’s name, and for a moment, the frustration returned, threatening to engulf her once more. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come.
Okay, maybe she wasn’t being that subtle. But then again, Elizabeth seemed to always know what’s on her mind. With a reluctant sigh and avoidance heavy in her eyes, Gigi confesses, her eyes closing.
“Yes.” A deep breath.
She doesn’t know what Elizabeth’s expression is, but she’s not eager to turn and see. Then—she smells roses faintly, Elizabeth was close, probably standing near her. She notices there’s complete silence, before the queen finally speaks.
“Oh Gigi.” She feels the leader’s hands grab her own and lift her upwards, forcing her to sit up. Her hands completely close around Gigi’s own. It’s comforting. And it is also then that Gigi finally opens her eyes.
“Want to talk about it?” Elizabeth’s face is warm, welcoming, and most of all extremely familiar. She had that expression many times, like she’s a gentle constant in Gigi’s life ever since the start—ever since she joined Justice.
Gigi’s heartbeat pulsed in her throat, her chest tight as she felt the weight of Elizabeth’s gaze on her. She could almost feel the pressure of the unspoken words between them. It was strange, being so vulnerable with someone who knew her so well. But still, admitting it out loud felt like a risk.
Elizabeth already knew. She reasoned to herself.
For a moment, there was only the sound of Gigi’s nervous breaths. Elizabeth didn’t push, but the silence hung heavy.
Finally, Gigi gave in, feeling the words tumble out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I just… I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m around her.”
Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, not pressing further, but Gigi could see the curiosity flicker in her eyes. “Is it just about Cecilia, or is it something else?”
Gigi winced, but it felt good to finally admit it. “I think… I think it’s her. She makes everything feel complicated.”
Elizabeth’s gaze softened, her voice quieter. “Complicated doesn’t always mean bad, Gigi.”
Gigi let out a soft, frustrated breath, turning her head slightly. “I’m scared, Elizabeth. I don’t know how to act around her anymore. Every time we talk, I get all twisted up inside. It’s like I’m walking this line, and I don’t know if I should cross it or not.”
“I mean, every time we hang out, I think I do something stupid.” If Gigi tried to list all the ways Cecilia had done something that lit a fire in her heart, she’d run out of breath. “But then she smiles. And even if I messed up, her smile makes me smile, and all that nervousness and embarrassment just... melts away. So I keep going, I joke, I say something dumb, and it’s like—” Gigi paused, unsure how to finish.
She fell silent, trying to find the right words. It was like she had a puzzle in her head, but the pieces just wouldn’t fit together. She glanced at Elizabeth, feeling more vulnerable than she expected.
“And then, when I think I’ve got it figured out, she looks at me—just looks at me—and for a second, it’s like everything I thought I understood slips right out of my hands,” Gigi said, her voice softer now. “It’s not just a joke anymore. It’s like there’s something more... something I’m too scared to even voice out loud.”
Elizabeth stayed quiet, letting Gigi speak without interrupting, her face a mixture of thoughtfulness and patience.
“I don’t know if it’s just me being ridiculous,” Gigi muttered, rubbing her neck. “But when she smiles, when she laughs... I can’t help but feel like everything I do wrong doesn’t matter. Like, in those moments, all that matters is the connection we have.”
The words hung between them, and Gigi felt a strange mix of relief and doubt. Had she said too much? Or not enough?
Elizabeth squeezed Gigi’s hands gently, grounding her. “Gigi,” she murmured, her voice steady, warm. “You know, for someone who claims they don’t think a lot, you sure do overthink when it comes to her.”
Gigi groaned. “I know, I know,” she mumbled, voice so vulnerable it sounds strange to her own ears. “It’s just—what if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I make things weird? What if I lose her, Elizabeth?”
The ground was the only thing Gigi could focus on.
Elizabeth sighed, shifting slightly so she was sitting beside Gigi now, their shoulders barely touching. “You’re scared of ruining what you have with her.”
“Yes!” Gigi lifted her head, exasperated. “Exactly! You get it. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever been the smoothest person alive—”
Elizabeth gave her a look.
“—okay, I’ve never been smooth. Ever. And I know Cecilia. She’s kind, and patient, and she’d laugh it off if I ever said something stupid.” Gigi hesitated, voice turning softer. “But what if she doesn’t see me that way? What if she just thinks I’m a friend, and I go and mess everything up?”
Elizabeth hummed thoughtfully, leaning back against the cool marble floor. “And what if she does feel the same?”
Gigi opened her mouth, then closed it.
That possibility—she hadn’t let herself fully consider it before. It had always been easier to assume the worst, to tell herself that Cecilia was just being Cecilia, warm and thoughtful and effortlessly charming, but not in a way that meant anything more.
But what if?
Gigi’s tail twitched, uncertain.
Elizabeth glanced at her, a small smirk forming. “I think you’re more afraid of that answer than the alternative.”
“That’s not—” Gigi started, then stopped.
Damn it.
Maybe Elizabeth was right. Maybe a part of her was terrified of what it would mean if Cecilia did feel the same. Because then, everything would shift. The safe little bubble of their friendship would pop, and suddenly, there’d be something real, something fragile, something that could break.
Elizabeth nudged her gently. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once, you know.”
Gigi frowned. “Then what do I do?”
Elizabeth’s smirk softened into something more knowing. “Maybe… stop trying so hard to control what happens next. You don’t have to confess your undying love or anything.”
Gigi choked. “Elizabeth—”
“Just… be honest. With yourself, with her. You don’t have to say everything at once, but if you keep pretending nothing’s changed, you’re going to drive yourself insane.”
Gigi groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the floor. “Too late.”
Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Absolutely.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence after that, the tension in Gigi’s chest easing just a little.
And maybe, just maybe, she’d stop running from this.
Maybe.
For now, though, she’d stay right here—on the cold, comforting marble floor, with Elizabeth’s words still circling in her head.
Later, Elizabeth had already left, leaving Gigi to her own devices. She was still sprawled out on the marble floor. It was cold, but that was nice—it distracted her, if only a little, from the mess in her head.
Back to staring at the ceiling. Back to letting it be her silent, unjudging listener.
“So… yeah,” she muttered. “Elizabeth’s words helped, I guess. But I’m still scared. I mean, it’s not supposed to be this easy, right? Falling in love, realising you’ve fallen in love, admitting you’ve in love… and then actually telling them.” She sighed. “That’s the hard part.”
Her gaze drifted to the chandelier, its red crystals catching the dim light. As if the inanimate objects in the room might suddenly gain wisdom and answer her back. They wouldn’t. But she played along anyway.
“Just tough it out, Gigi.” She pitched her voice higher, imitating some imaginary, sagely chandelier.
She huffed. “You’re right, chandelier. Maybe I should just go up to her and—”
“What the heck are you doing?”
Gigi’s breath hitched.
Cecilia’s voice.
Interrupted again.
Maybe she should really stop talking to inanimate objects.
Slowly, as if moving too fast would make things worse, Gigi tilted her head to the side. And, sure enough, there she was—Cecilia, standing just a few feet away, arms crossed, an amused but confused look on her face.
Oh, this was bad.
“Uh,” Gigi started, her brain scrambling for an excuse. Any excuse. “I was… meditating.”
Cecilia raised an eyebrow. “On the floor?”
“It’s a very specific technique,” Gigi said, pushing herself up onto her elbows, trying to look like she totally meant to be here. “Helps with circulation.”
Cecilia snorted, stepping closer. “Right. And does talking to the chandelier help with that too?”
Gigi groaned, letting herself flop back down. “Okay, fine, maybe I was thinking out loud. Maybe I was having a very deep, introspective moment. And maybe you just ruined it.”
Cecilia crouched down beside her, resting her arms on her knees. “Sounds serious.”
“It was serious.”
A pause.
“…Do you want to talk about it?”
And just like that, Gigi’s heart did that stupid, annoying, ridiculous thing where it skipped a beat.
She swallowed, forcing herself to act normal, to pretend like Cecilia’s voice wasn’t the exact thing that had been messing with her all day.
“…Depends,” she said cautiously. “Are you gonna laugh at me?”
Cecilia tilted her head, considering. “That depends. Is it funny?”
Gigi let out a dramatic sigh. “See, this is why I was talking to the chandelier instead.”
Cecilia laughed, soft and warm. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I think I’m a better listener.”
Gigi peeked at her from under her arm. “Debatable.”
Cecilia hummed, tilting her head. “Try me.”
Oh. That was dangerous.
Gigi sat up halfway, resting on her elbows. “I dunno, Ceci. This is, like… some really deep, soul-searching stuff.”
Cecilia smirked. “I can be deep.”
“I don’t know… can you?” Gigi teased, dragging out the words.
“Shut up.” Cecilia nudged her shoulder.
Gigi grinned, feeling a little bolder now. The teasing helped—it made this whole thing feel normal, like she wasn’t one wrong word away from embarrassing herself forever.
A beat passed.
Then, before she could second-guess it, Gigi patted the empty space next to her.
“You wanna join me?” she asked, half-joking, half-expecting Cecilia to roll her eyes and refuse.
But then—
“Alright.”
Gigi blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
Cecilia just shrugged, like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Yeah. Why not?”
And before Gigi could even process what was happening, Cecilia was settling down beside her, stretching out on the cold marble floor.
…Oh. Oh no.
This was so much worse.
The cold seeped through their clothes, but Cecilia didn’t seem to mind. She let out a quiet sigh, arms resting over her stomach, eyes flicking up to the ceiling.
“Huh,” she murmured.
Gigi swallowed. “Huh?”
“I see why you like this.”
Gigi turned her head slightly, trying to gauge Cecilia’s expression, but her face was unreadable—calm, thoughtful. It was unfair how effortlessly cool she always looked, even while lying on the floor.
“You do?” Gigi asked, cautious.
Cecilia nodded. “Yeah. It’s… kinda nice. Quiet.” She let out a soft breath, her voice dropping just a little, enough to make something in Gigi’s chest tighten. “You can just exist here. No expectations, no pressure.”
Gigi stared at her, something dangerously fond bubbling up before she could stop it.
Damn it. Damn it all.
She had been so sure Cecilia would refuse. That she’d scoff, call Gigi a weirdo, maybe ruffle her hair and leave. But no. No, she had to go and get comfortable. Had to understand. Had to say something that made Gigi’s heart do that awful, traitorous flip.
This was worse than rejection.
Because now she was here, right beside her. Close enough that Gigi could hear her breathing, close enough that if she just turned her head a little more, their arms might brush.
And now all Gigi could think about was how unfairly, frustratingly, unbelievably pretty Cecilia looked like this, bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier she had been talking to just moments ago.
Gigi groaned, throwing an arm over her face. “This was a mistake.”
Cecilia chuckled. “Regretting your life choices already?”
“Yes. Deeply.”
Cecilia nudged her side lightly. “Too bad. You invited me. No take-backs.”
Gigi exhaled sharply, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You’re the worst.”
“I try.”
Silence settled between them. But it wasn’t awkward—not really. It was… something else. Something warm. Something dangerous.
Gigi’s tail flicked against the floor, nervous energy rolling through her.
She should say something. Do something. Make a joke, change the subject, anything to pull herself out of this mess. But all she could do was stare at the ceiling, listening to the quiet, listening to the steady sound of Cecilia breathing beside her.
And then—
“You know,” Cecilia said suddenly, voice softer now. “If there’s something on your mind… you can talk to me.”
Gigi’s breath caught.
Cecilia wasn’t looking at her. But her voice—gentle, patient, real—was enough to make Gigi’s stomach twist.
Gigi wet her lips. “That’s dangerous.”
Cecilia finally turned her head, meeting Gigi’s gaze. “Why?”
Gigi forced a smirk, ignoring the way her heart was slamming against her ribs. “Because what if I say something dumb?”
Cecilia grinned. “Then I’ll laugh at you.”
Gigi gasped dramatically. “See? More reason on why I talk to chandeliers instead.”
Cecilia rolled her eyes. “Gigi.”
Her name. Just her name. Simple, familiar, yet so damn soft when Cecilia said it like that.
Gigi swallowed. “Yeah?”
Cecilia hesitated for half a second before speaking again. “I’d still listen. Even if it was dumb.”
Gigi’s face burned.
This had to be illegal.
She had to get out of this situation rightnow.
But when she opened her mouth, the only thing that came out was:
“…Do you think the chandelier has life advice?”
Cecilia let out a startled laugh, the sound bright and unguarded, and just like that—just like always—Gigi was ruined.
Cecilia’s laugh lingered in the air, warm and unfiltered. Gigi felt it like a ripple through her chest—small at first, but spreading too fast, too far, threatening to pull her under.
She should say something else, keep the joke rolling, steer them back into safe waters. But when Cecilia’s laughter faded, and the silence settled in again, Gigi knew—really knew—that it was already too late.
Because Cecilia was still looking at her. Not expectant, not pushing, just… waiting.
And Gigi—stupid, reckless, always-running Gigi—almost let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she should be honest.
But honesty was dangerous.
So she did what she always did.
She backpedalled.
“Welp,” she said, springing to her feet in one fluid motion, “I think that’s enough emotional vulnerability for one day! Time to stop bothering the chandelier.”
Cecilia blinked, startled. “Wait, what—”
But before Gigi could make her escape, Cecilia grabbed her wrist gently, pulling her back toward her.
Gigi’s heart leapt into her throat. “Cecilia—”
Cecilia’s expression was unreadable and soft, but there was something in her gaze that made Gigi’s chest feel full and heavy all at once. “Don’t run away, Gigi.”
Gigi blinked, her thoughts scrambling to catch up. “What…?”
“From this,” Cecilia said, her voice steady, a little softer but with an undercurrent of something more. “From me.”
The world seemed to slow down for a second as Gigi stared at her. The weight of her words hung in the air, and Gigi’s breath caught.
Suddenly, Gigi didn’t feel the overwhelming need to backpedal.
Instead, she stayed.
And when Cecilia’s hand gently cupped her cheek, the rest of the world fell away.
“Alright,” Gigi said, her voice barely above a whisper, but this time it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t her usual defence mechanism. “I won’t run. Not from you.”
Cecilia smiled, and the warmth in her eyes was enough to send Gigi’s heart soaring.
But then, the quiet moment between them seemed to stretch out, fragile like a thread waiting to snap. Gigi could feel her pulse racing, the fluttering in her stomach ready to burst.
“I’m not good at this,” Gigi admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Cecilia’s thumb traced along the curve of her cheek, gentle and slow. “It’s okay. Take your time. Just be here. With me.”
Gigi took a shaky breath, her heart thudding. “I’m… I’m.” Her words felt stuck, but Cecilia’s steady smile kept her grounded. “I’m in love with you.” And then, the floodgates opened, spilling out the rest. “And I want to kiss you. And I want to make you laugh and—ummf—”
Before she could scramble for more words, Cecilia’s lips pressed against hers, quieting everything in the most perfect way.
Gigi’s mind raced as she melted into the kiss, a world of uncertainty and fear dissolving into the warmth of Cecilia’s touch.
When they finally pulled away, Gigi’s breath was shallow, her heart still racing. “You’re such an idiot.”
It wasn’t the confession she expected from Cecilia.
“I mean, who else do I ask to eat my food? Who else do I want to listen to ramble on about anything and everything? Who else do I FaceTime when I’m lying in bed, feeling alone?” She let out a breathless laugh. “Who else do I collaborate almost every week with?”
Cecilia’s eyes softened, and she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “God, you’re so dense.” She brought Gigi’s hand to her lips, holding it close. “I love you too weirdo.” She kissed Gigi’s hand softly, the simple gesture sending a warmth through her.
“So… will you go out with me?” the weirdo finally asks.
Cecilia hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hmm. Lemme see…”
“Cecilia—”
“I’m kidding.” She squeezed Gigi’s hand again, her teasing smile softening into something warmer. “Yeah. I want to.”
And just like that, Gigi melted.
¬ A Side Story ¬
“Hey, Ceci?”
“Yeah?”
Gigi hesitated. Just for a second.
Then, she smiled.
“…Do you wanna help me name the chandelier?”
Cecilia blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. “Oh my God.”
“I’m serious!” Gigi said, grinning now. “It’s the closest thing I have to a therapist. I feel like it deserves a name.”
Cecilia shook her head, but the fondness in her eyes was unmistakable. “Fine. How about… Grems? That way it’s kinda like you’re talking to your viewers.”
Gigi gasped. “That’s perfect.”
Cecilia snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously charming.”
Cecilia rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t waver. “Whatever you say, Gigi.”