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My dear reader,
You’ve been with the GAR for over half a year now. You continue to be stationed with the 212th, and you continue to grow closer to the clone pilot, Oddball, better known to you as Davijaan. It’s a careful dance the two of you have. Relationships are, if not expressly forbidden, certainly frowned upon. So you have kept things cautious, light, neither of you admitting to anything overtly, but you know as well as he that your bond is undeniable.
Nearly any free moment you have that coincides with his is spent together. He knows some of your deepest secrets, and you, his. You’ve hugged and cuddled on multiple occasions, but never have you kissed or spoken the fateful words.
Plausible deniability.
But absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say, and when Davijaan finally returns from an extended mission, you realize that it’s time. Expectations and regulations be damned.
You keep yourself busy, though, and spend your free time with other friends, willing the anxious butterflies in your stomach away.
~*~
“I want to give you something.”
You look up at Fold, intrigued. “What is it?”
He gives you a little smirk. “It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise? For me?”
He reaches into his toolbox and grabs a hydrospanner, handing it to you. “Uh, thanks?”
He laughs at you. “That’s not your gift. You have to earn it first.”
You give him the side eye. “You don’t earn a gift. That’s not how it works.”
He shrugs. “I guess so.” He gives you a light, friendly punch on the arm before ducking back under the ship he’s working on. “Hand that to me when I tell you to.”
You raise an eyebrow. He can’t see you of course, but he can surely hear it in your voice. “What do you sayyy?”
He gives a dramatic sigh. “Please?”
“Good boy.” You ruffle his hair. It’s somewhat sweaty, but rather soft. He tenses, and you withdraw. “Sorry.”
“It’s, uh, not a problem,” he mumbles. Then, in a more normal voice, “Ok, hand me the spanner.”
“Please?”
Another sigh. He’s rolling his eyes at you, you can tell. “Please.”
You grin and reach underneath the fuselage, handing him the ‘spanner. “Here you go!”
“Thanks.” There’s some clanking sounds, a muffled curse, and Fold wriggles back out from under the ship.
“You okay?”
He runs his hand over his hair, smoothing it back down, and smiles at you, somewhat shyly. “I, uh, I want to give you the gift now.”
You knit your eyebrows. “You okay, Fold?” He’s staring off at a fixed point, hand still on his hair. He jerks.
“Ah, yeah, I’m fine.” He scoots himself across the durasteel floor, closer to you. “I’m a little nervous to give it to you. I hope you like it.”
You smile at him, encouragingly. “Who doesn’t like a surprise?”
“Close your eyes.” You close them, obediently, and wonder what in the galaxy he’s planning on giving you. You’ve become close friends with Fold as your time with the GAR has continued, and are touched and flattered that he thinks enough of you to give you something. You know clones aren’t really allowed to own much of anything, making whatever it is all the more precious.
You feel him inch closer, and instinctively turn your head to face him—or where you think he is—even though you still don’t open your eyes. His hand touches your knee, gentle and firm. And then—something presses to your mouth, warm and a mixture of rough and soft. You gasp.
Pulling back, you open your eyes. Your hands have found their way against Fold’s chest, and he is looking at you oh-so-hopefully. “Did you like it?”
You blink at him, dumbstruck. That-that’s not how you saw your relationship at all. “No.” You give him a little shove. “I didn’t.”
His face falls, but he moves away. “It’s…not because I’m a bad kisser, is it?” By his tone, he already knows the answer.
“No.” You take a moment to gather your thoughts, before deciding that they’re too far flung to organize in any rational manner at the moment, and decide to yell at Fold instead. “Why did you do that?!” Davijaan was back now, and would be meeting you any minute. You hadn’t had any time together for over a month. You didn’t have the time to deal with the emotional fall-out of one of your closest friends kissing you.
He hangs his head and shrugs helplessly. “I had to try.”
“No, you didn’t! You know about me and…” You trail off, pieces starting to click into place.
He all but glares at you, a stubborn set to his jaw. “Yeah, I know. I know you two have been dancing around each other for months, as long as you’ve known each other, and nothing has happened yet. If he’s too much of a coward to tell you how he feels then why can’t I? I love you and he…” His anger fizzles out as quickly as it had come on and he looks at his hands. “It’s just…I’d hate myself if I didn’t try.”
You feel tears brimming. Sure, you knew he had a little crush on you, but you thought it was much like how a few other men you interacted with regularly were semi-interested in you. It wasn’t you they liked so much as the mere fact that you were a girl, and you knew it would be the same for any other humanoid woman in your place, so you never paid it much mind. You all seemed to collectively agree to just ignore it until it went away. They knew you didn’t—wouldn’t—reciprocate, and never attempted to cultivate anything beyond casual friendship. But here you were.
“Fold, I like you, but—”
He finishes for you. “But not for kissing.”
Well, that’s one way to put it. You get up. “Listen, Davi’s coming any minute and you—” You clench your hands into fists. “That wasn’t right.”
He watches your approach, his expression morphing from sorrow to defiance. “I’m not sorry, if that’s what you’re wanting from me.”
You huff. That is what you wanted. An apology and to move on. He sighs once again, and gets up, packing his tools away. “Listen…” He doesn’t look at you this time, instead focusing on packing the hydrospanner away just right. His jaw works and he swallows. “You can forget this ever happened, if you want. I’ll still be in love with you.” He slams the lid down. “See you around.”
And he leaves. Good riddance. You can’t even look at him right now. You stand in the middle of the empty hangar, staring at nothing. You dash the angry tears from your eyes and head to Oddball’s starfighter. You had said you’d meet in the hangar, but hadn’t specified where, not knowing what spots might or might not be occupied. You figure his ship is as good of a meeting point as any, and settle yourself against the landing gear to wait. And wait. And wait.
Maybe he got held up? He’s been gone a while, maybe he’s catching up with some of his other friends? You wait some more.
When you jerk awake after nodding off for the second time, you look at your chrono and realize you won’t be seeing him tonight. Your heart sinks. After that catastrophe earlier, you were really looking forward to being with him. He must have been very tired though. A month-long mission, a full day’s travel, and hours of briefings would take their toll on anyone. At least you knew he wasn’t injured.
Your stomach drops, joining your heart at the soles of your feet. What if he is injured? What if he suddenly took ill and that’s why he couldn’t come? What if—
When you come into the medbay, the medic on duty jumps out of his seat, trying and failing to look alert.
“Sorry, Dent. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” The slurred way he says this belies his statement, but you don’t comment on it. “What brings you here?”
Oh, you probably should have thought of an excuse before you got here. But you’re too tired and sad and worried to care about what Dent may or may not figure out about yours and Oddball’s relationship. “Is Da—I mean, Oddball here?”
Dent doesn’t even bother looking it up on the computer. “No.” He looks at you suspiciously. “Should he be?”
You tell the medic that you saw him earlier today and he seemed perfectly fine. Dent still looks suspicious, and if all Oddball is overtired, the last thing you want to do is sic the medics on him. As vaguely as possible, you explain that nothing was wrong with him, that you had been expecting to see him later in the day and hadn’t and that was all.
Dent scratched his jaw. “He’s probably sleeping. They’ve been gone awhile.”
You agree with him, apologize once again for intruding, and head back to your quarters. You think about comming him, but you’ve both agreed to avoid it as much as possible, and if he is in fact sleeping you don’t want to wake him. But when your head hits the pillow, all the emotions wrought by the last several hours come pouring out, and you cry yourself to sleep.
~*~
What you don’t know, is that earlier that evening, Oddball was walking towards the hangar with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. He’d gotten to see you for only a moment, before being whisked away into a debriefing session, but the soft smile you’d given him was more than enough to tide him over until he could hold you in his arms again. As soon as the final meeting concluded, Oddball had showered, shaved, and put on a clean uniform. He took his gift for you out of his pocket and threw it in the air, admiring how it shone in the light. He caught it when it fell and pocketed it once again. It was a little bauble, a teeny tiny pearlescent stone wrapped with gold wire in an intricate pattern. It looked delicate but was sturdy—he’d checked. It was perfect.
He’d daydreamed about giving it to you since he first acquired it, and as he walked he replayed his perfect scenario. He’d tell you he had something for you, and you’d look so surprised and excited and cute. He’d have you close your eyes and hold out your hand, which he would gently take hold of with his left while he dropped the jewelry in your palm with his right. He’d tell you to open your eyes and you would gasp with delight, running a finger over the detailwork and telling him it was beautiful. He could then say, “So are you, Darlin’,” and the way you would smile at him then would make his heart nearly stop. And then you’d reach up and unclasp your necklace, and string the pendant next to the locket you had received from your parents, and then shyly ask him if he would help you put it back on. He would agree, and you would turn your back to him, and he would brush your hair out of the way before fastening the clasp. His hands would linger and you would turn into him and then he would kiss you and it would be perfect.
Oddball knew this was just a fantasy, of course, but if reality panned out to even a fraction of what he was imagining, he would be the happiest man in the Grand Army. The lift stopped and he stepped into the massive hangar bay. He realized, then, that your month-ago agreement to meet in the hangar when he got back might not have been well thought-out, considering how big it was, but he thought the starfighters were a likely place for you to be, so he headed there first. He considered calling out to you, but decided it would be more fun to surprise you—really surprise you—if he could.
So when he caught sight of you, he slowed his steps to be more quiet. Your back was to him, and you were talking to Fold. He said something and you laughed. Oddball felt slightly jealous, but knew that when you saw him he would be the one making you smile, making you laugh. You liked him. He knew that.
Fold had moved closer to you. Oddball narrowed his eyes. He knew that look on Fold’s face. He’d seen it in holodramas, in shadowed corners, and felt it on his own face. Fold wanted to kiss you. The jealousy burned hotter, brighter. Oddball thought about calling out to you then and there, but it would be satisfying to see the dejected look on Fold’s face after you rejected his advances and joyfully greeted Oddball instead. You liked him. Fold would see that.
But then Fold scooted even closer to you and started leaning in. Oddball stopped dead in his tracks. Why weren’t you pushing him away? No, you had done the opposite and had turned your head to face Fold more directly. Fold’s hand was on your knee. You still weren’t pushing him away.
Oddball’s heart jumped into his throat. You-you would push him away, any moment now. Any moment. Fold’s head was so close to yours. Oddball wasn’t close enough to see it, especially since his vision had become strangely misty, but Fold had to be kissing you now. And still you didn’t push him away.
And then you gave a soft, breathy little gasp and Oddball felt his heart shatter.
He left, as quietly as he had come but much more quickly. He didn’t want anyone to be around him when he started crying in earnest.