The Aftermath Of Melting
Gigi doesn’t know what to do with herself. Not with the constant thoughts her brain supplies. Not with the aimless jabs of repeating words as they pierce right through her, leaving her numb to everything but the feelings that turn her face warm.
You’re burning up, the phantom sensation of coldness on her forehead.
When did it start? She could never really pin it down. Like clusters of rocks floating endlessly in space, there is no definitive answer as to when they came to be—only a theoretical reasoning behind the hows and the whats.
Gigi’s theory? It was around the time she got sick. Her body liquidy and melting.
Let’s get you to bed, Gigi. Come on. The sentence is short, yet it keeps lingering, just like the countless other words that inhabit her mind unwarranted.
She wasn’t a rock, nor was she truly floating. But with the way her mind kept moving, it certainly felt like it. And though she might not have been drifting aimlessly in space, she was heading somewhere—a destination reached by her very own two feet, firmly planted on the ground where they used to shuffle. It wasn’t an urgent place, nor was it even important.
But it felt like home—a place that smoothed the lines and creases forming on her forehead from thinking too hard.
It was a simple room, with brass stairs and ridiculously large windows where vines clung. She would cling to it too, if she could—not the absurdly oversized glass panels, but the feeling. The atmosphere of comfort it provided, where every sunrise felt more beautiful than the last.
She wasn’t clusters of stone, and she wasn’t in space either. But she had flown here once before, defying gravity as her body was lifted up the stairs. She felt the icy sensation of a question answered—the cool touch of porcelain against her cheek. So, it is cold.
It wasn’t surprising—the way her gaze moved across the red wall, only to land on something green. It wasn’t a carpet; it was a person, very still yet so alive. Cecilia’s body was slumped against the wall, right next to a bookcase, her shoulder icy cold as it pressed against the wood.
On the opposite side of the room, directly across from the bookcase, stood a music stand, with a metronome perched atop a round table beside it. This corner had always been filled with music—a piano that played endless melodies, weaving through the air like an invitation. On rare, rainy days, the haunting sound of a violin would echo through the space, its mournful tunes lingering long after the last note.
To Gigi, it felt like a calling, or at least that’s what her desperate mind wanted to believe. Music had always carried meaning, and the gremlin had been listening intently, trying to decipher what each melody was trying to say.
For a moment, Gigi’s heart sped up, as if the weight of the room pressed down on her chest, forcing her to confront something unspeakably profound. She looked onwards, at Cecilia’s face.
Cecilia’s face was… beautiful. This felt hauntingly familiar. The wording, the thought—it was as if it had been scattered across countless universes, and Gigi somehow remembered it in all of them—disoriented and blurry. Did that mean they were together in every one of those universes? It was an unrealistic question. No, of course not. They couldn’t be. If they were, that would mean Cecilia had to deal with her in all of them. And wouldn’t that make this one less special?
Maybe in another one, they’re together.
…A long pause follows that stupid idea. It’s an idea, harmless and small in nature. But it rumbles like a volcano about to erupt. Just like all the words and thoughts that spiral in Gigi’s mind.
Still, her eyes could only focus on the little details. Cecilia’s face is neutral, her features softened in sleep, the faintest hint of relaxation smoothing over her brow. Her eyelids are gently closed, hiding her thoughts away.
There’s a calmness to her expression, as though the world outside doesn’t touch her in this moment. Her lips, barely parted, hold a quiet tranquillity. It’s the kind of expression that makes her seem untouched by the weight of anything, as if in this space, she could remain forever.
It doesn’t feel awkward when Gigi’s pitiful expression twists into a soft smile. The tears that stick to her face, dried and obvious, suddenly don’t feel so awful. There wasn’t a goal in coming here, no real reasoning behind why she’s here, looking so closely at Cecilia.
It doesn’t help that she’s crouched down, poking a finger at a steady porcelain cheek. A part of her imagines Cecilia waking up, her eyes slowly twitching open, a soft groan escaping as if her body is attempting to figure out what disturbs her. The gremlin would watch as her green eyes fully open—so bright and mesmerising—they would adjust until finally something settles, and a frown would replace the impossibly adorable expression of half-awake confusion.
Yet, this one would be just as cute. Eyebrows furrowed, lips in a pout, as Cecilia yells at her for the intrusion.
But that wouldn’t happen. Her finger on Cecilia’s cheek gets no response at all. No, Cecilia needs to be powered up. She’s not human, she doesn’t really ‘sleep’ like the rest of Justice. But Gigi could care less because she would give anything to wake up to Cecilia’s face every morning, to be the one to twist her key, and to witness those wonderful green irises slowly come back to the living world.
…Since when had she been this love-stricken? Maybe since she asked that stupid question.
Would you be my knight?
It was left unanswered. Instead, Gigi had to announce herself the knight.
I don’t need a knight, Gigi, I need you to rest.
Gigi’s breath stills. She knows it wasn’t rejection. Not even a harsh one, it was a request. A simple demand for compliance. She was sick, she needed rest.
Cecilia wasn’t saying no, it shouldn't be bittersweet. Then as if it could only get worse. Gigi found herself whispering again what she had answered that with.
“I’d still be yours,” the words are practised in her mind. “Even if… you didn’t need one.”
…
“Oh, my god.” Gigi covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled by the fabric of her gloves pressed so closely. “She looked at me.” Cecilia saw her in that state, even as the gremlin slipped up and declared the nonsense that plagued her mind.
Cecilia took care of her. Cecilia carried her up the stairs. Cecilia held her hand. Gigi’s face is too warm now—if the volcano is about to erupt, then she’s the pressure pushing it along. She can’t stop how red her neck is becoming, or how it feels like steam is ready to pour out of her ears.
She’s a fool, she’s insane, she’s everything Cecilia probably doesn’t want. So why did it feel like that night meant something? She remembers how delirious it all felt—her feet dragging across the floor, passing her own bedroom. Why hadn’t Cecilia let her rest there? It only fills her delusions more.
Despite everything, Cecilia stayed. She could’ve left her there, melting in the living room—left her with nothing but the annoying buzz in her brain, as the flood washed away all her primary functions. But she didn’t.
The next few seconds are nothing more than an impulse. Gigi’s gloved hand clutches the wind-up key. There’s no plan, no thought—just the memory of the soft expression Cecilia wore that night. She twists the key a few times until a faint click signals the automaton’s wake.
And because Cecilia can’t hear her right now, Gigi dares to whisper, quieter than the creak of a floorboard, “Would you… be my knight?” It’s a silly question—nonsensical, even—but it hangs in the air like a secret she can’t keep.
The automaton stirs. A faint whirr hums through the quiet room as Cecilia blinks awake, her green eyes sluggishly flickering to life. Her head tilts slightly, processing the faint clicking in her gears. The light from the window glints off her porcelain joints as she shifts, her voice low and laced with sleep.
“Gigi? Wasn’t Raora supposed to turn my key today?”
Cecilia’s voice is groggy, her tone more curious than annoyed. The sound jolts Gigi upright, her hand snapping away from the key like she’s been caught stealing. Raora was supposed to, yes—but it’s five in the morning, and Raora isn’t waking up until seven.
Still, Gigi finds her excuse, shrugging as her focus drifts to the curve of Cecilia’s lips. “Nope. I got bored, so I woke you up.”
Cecilia sits up straighter now, her joints shifting with soft clicks. Her gaze sharpens, finally locking onto Gigi’s, the weight of her green eyes making Gigi’s heart lurch.
And then, Gigi grins, her mask sliding back into place. Her voice is too loud, too bright as she blurts, “Good morning, Ceci! You were talking in your sleep!”
Cecilia’s brow arches slightly. They both know it’s a lie. Cecilia doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t dream.
Still, she plays along, tilting her head in that way that’s both gentle and unreadable. “Was I? What did I say?”
Gigi’s grin widens, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leans in, lowering her voice like she’s about to reveal some deep, earth-shattering secret. “You said… you were in love with me,” she says dramatically, her tone full of mock seriousness, the joke hanging between them like a playful dare.
Cecilia freezes for a moment, her expression flickering with something unreadable before the smallest hint of a whirr louder then the rest. Gigi can see it all—the way Cecilia tries to mask it, the brief vulnerability before she regains her composure. The automaton wasn’t in love with her, if she was. Well, Gigi wouldn’t really know what to do.
“In love with you?” Cecilia’s voice is cool, but there’s a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
Gigi shrugs nonchalantly, her grin still wide and teasing. “Yep. You were all ‘Gigi, I can’t live without you,’ and ‘You’re my everything.’” She brings a hand to her chest, the other reaching out for effect, adding a mock-swoon to her voice. “Honestly, it was kind of dramatic, you want me so bad.”
Cecilia snorts softly, fighting a grin of her own. “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you would say if you were talking in your sleep.”
“Pfft, no way! I’m way too cool for that,” Gigi scoffs, though a small laugh escapes her. “I don’t need to go around confessing my love for you.”
Be my knight, though?
The weight of Gigi’s impulsive question still hangs in the back of her mind. She can’t say it. It wouldn’t make sense.
What if Cecilia said no?
That opens a whole new can of worms she’s not ready to explore. So, she pushes the thought aside for today.