Cecilia wakes up to the feeling of something damp against her skin.
Her first thought: Not again.
The second: I really should start sleeping with a towel.
Slowly, she peels open her eyes. The room is dim, early morning light filtering through the curtains. And beside her—half-sprawled across her chest, clinging to her arm like a lifeline—is Gigi.
Or, what remains of her.
She’s half-melted in her sleep, her usual form softened at the edges, her arm pooled slightly over Cecilia’s wrist. When Cecilia shifts, there’s the faint, unpleasant squelch of goo stretching and clinging. She sighs.
Carefully, she lifts her free hand and brushes a few strands of damp hair from Gigi’s forehead—though her fingers come away slightly sticky.
“Gigi,” she murmurs. “You’re melting again.”
A sleepy whine. Gigi burrows closer, pressing her face into Cecilia’s shoulder, still half-liquid, still clinging.
Cecilia sighs again, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Just tired acceptance.
She shifts, trying to get comfortable despite the mess, and pulls Gigi in a little closer.
¬
Goo is sticky, ugly, and gross. Cecilia still agrees on that part. It clings to everything, seeps into places it should not be, and worst of all—
It drips down her girlfriend’s arm in a slow, miserable slop.
“You’re gooing again.”
Gigi groans, face buried in her hands or what used to be her hands. “I knooooow,” she wails, her voice muffled. “This is so stressful!”
Cecilia watches as another blob of half-solid, half-liquid gremlin girlfriend oozes onto the couch. This is the third time this week.
With careful hands, she scoops up what she thinks is Gigi’s wrist. “Alright, alright, deep breaths. You’re getting really goopy. I don’t think the floor can handle another deep-clean.”
Gigi sniffles. “I—I just—” She lifts her head, watery eyes brimming with distress. “I knocked over the plant.”
Cecilia blinks. “…That’s it?”
“It was your favourite plant!” Gigi wails, growing gooier by the second. “It looked so happy! Now it’s DEAD!”
Cecilia looks over. The plant is very much alive, just tipped over. Dirt spilled onto the floor.
She sighs, wiping a stray bit of goo off her arm. “Babe. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine! I—” Her lower lip wobbles, and—oh no.
She tries to grab Cecilia for support, but her fingers are more pudding than hands, and they just… slop against Cecilia’s sleeve before sliding off completely.
“…” Cecilia stares. “Did you just try to hold my hand and fail?”
Gigi’s already-wobbly form trembles. “Shut up.”
Before she can fully collapse, Cecilia huffs and reaches out, wrapping her arms around what remains of Gigi’s torso. It’s like hugging a warm, sentient water balloon—soft and shifting, threatening to spill through her fingers.
“Uh-uh, nope. You’re not melting all over the couch again,” Cecilia grumbles, tightening her grip.
Gigi whines, her half-liquid body squishing slightly against Cecilia’s. “I can’t help it!”
“You can try,” Cecilia says, shifting her hold like she’s handling a very unstable, very dramatic bowl of jelly. “I swear, if you get goo in my hair—“
“You’d still love me,” Gigi sing-songs weakly.
Cecilia sighs. “Unfortunately.”
Despite herself, she presses a soft kiss to what might be the top of Gigi’s half-melted head. But the second her lips touch the goo—
Plorp.
Gigi melts straight through her arms.
Cecilia stares down at her empty sticky hands, then at the goo slowly pooling at her feet. She exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Oh my god,” she mutters. “I cannot believe I’m in love with a sentient puddle.”
A tiny, guilty gurgle bubbles up from the goo.
Cecilia groans, holding out her hands in dismay. “Gigi, please. I swear it’s fine.”
She looks down at her girlfriend for a moment, her gaze softening. A sigh escapes, a mix of exasperation and affection. Cecilia tries to scoop up as much of Gigi as she can, carefully cradling her gooey form in her arms. For a second, she just holds her there—soft and somewhat formless in her hands. The goo molds against her fingers like a warm, living blanket.
Cecilia pauses, resting her cheek against the goo’s slight squish. Her heart stutters at how fragile Gigi feels in that moment—vulnerable, yet still so perfectly hers.
She presses a kiss to what she hopes is Gigi’s forehead, lingering for a moment longer than she should. A little smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she pulls back.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs, voice gentle, almost protective. “You’re okay. My favourite plant is fine.”
Gigi shifts, her gooey form wobbly but still reaching for Cecilia’s warmth. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, half-melted but already pulling herself a little closer.
Cecilia chuckles softly, resting her forehead against Gigi’s. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she whispers. “Because if anyone else turned into a puddle every time they were stressed, I’d be calling them a mess.”
Gigi gurgles, a tiny, gooey giggle slipping from her. “You love me anyway.”
Cecilia smiles, kissing the top of Gigi’s gooey head. “That’s the only thing keeping you out of the trash can right now.”