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You could find Gaby in one of two places. In her mechanical garage, she was determined and unstoppable. She came in early and left late. During the day, she couldn't be seen without wearing her old coveralls or having a patch of grease somewhere on her face. She barely got groceries, and when she did, she purchased unhealthy amounts of alcohol. The cashier would give her disapproving looks when they thought she wasn't looking.
Gaby appeared as a simple woman to her coworkers or customers. Her life was simply to work, sleep, eat, drink, and repeat. In a way, they were right.
During the night, however, Gaby left her shabby apartment in heels and a short dress. Her tan skin would be tinted by colorful lights and the night sky. She took comfort while standing in the middle of the dance floor letting go of all of her worries. The vibrations of the music only encouraged her. After dancing for hours, Gaby would be shiny from sweat. If she returned to her apartment, she would be walking barefoot while holding her heels in her hand.
Men noticed her. Who wouldn't? Gaby believed she was an attractive woman. In the few moments when she was not dancing to the blaring party music, she would be batting her eyes at the bar to get alcohol. When her feet hurt too much, she would sit at the bar giggling to an attractive man's remarks. Gaby would tell drunken stories and laugh outrageously loud, but the music drowned her out. Smiles and flirtatious comments would be exchanged until her partner would place a hand on her leg. Eventually, the man would make the offer he believed tonight was leading up to.
Her drunken giggles and flirtatious remarks were replaced by excuses. The lights became blinding, and the music pounded against her ears. Her pains could no longer be killed by alcohol or dancing. Gaby quickly sobered up at the advancements and rushed out of the bar. She grimaced at the cold air hitting her glowing body. The enchanting trance dancing and drinking left her in wore away, leaving the shivering, small woman to comfort herself by the light of a nearby streetlight.
Gaby would call a taxi or begin the small trek to her home. Most nights, she wouldn't make it home. She would end up knocking on a door that she didn't own. He would always open the door. She should feel threatened by him looming over her, but a sense of relief flooded over her every time. Illya always met her there. Whether or not he was awake didn't matter. Gaby would always crumble into his arms.
She would wash off the guilt and alcohol, steal one of Illya's shirts, and wander into bed. If Gaby felt the need to, she would pull him into bed and make love to him. Illya would curl protectively around her and whisper things she pretended not to hear. The alcohol that she had consumed dragged her to sleep eventually despite the overwhelming guilt suffocating her.
She would wake up trapped in Illya's arms. Gaby closed her eyes and relished the feeling for a moment. She winced as she carefully climbed out of bed. The looked back onto the sleeping man and smiled sadly. Gaby was leaving him behind again. The peaceful man took her into his bed each night in hopes of her reciprocating his love, but each morning he woke to nothing but the scent of her perfume.
Gaby stretched to scare away the feelings. She tracked down her uncomfortable dress and reluctantly got dressed. Before leaving, she would hesitate. She would allow herself to stare at his sleeping figure one last time before leaving. If she was feeling generous, a small kiss would be placed gently on the top of his head. As she crept away, Gaby was unaware of the small smile that appeared on Illya's lips after she kissed him.
Gaby would get home, get dressed, and go to work. The cycle would repeat. Illya would welcome her into his bed and whisper to her. He would whisper in Russian. He would whisper that he loved her.
And maybe Gaby loved him too.
It wasn't much, but eventually she stayed the extra minutes in his arms. Or wrote him little notes before disappearing. He found coffee and toast at one point. His heart would swell at each minor improvement.
One day, she stayed. Illya felt Gaby wake up, but she didn't leave. She burrowed deeper into his grip. Illya had gotten up first. He made her a proper breakfast of eggs and bacon. They ate breakfast together for the first time. When Illya got dressed, he returned to the kitchen and noticed that Gaby had left. Disappointment pricked at his heart.
He threw one of his plates and felt a bit better.
While searching for his dustpan, Illya found a little note with Gaby's familiar cursive writing.
I think I love you too.