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Cecilia found Gigi on the balcony, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a half-empty bottle of wine beside her. The city lights flickered below, the air crisp with the lingering chill of February.
It was late.
Too late, really.
She sighed, stepping out and nudging Gigi’s foot with her own. “You’ll catch a cold.”
Gigi tilted her head up, grinning. “Then you’ll have to take care of me.”
Cecilia rolled her eyes, but she still sat down beside her. She didn’t have to, but she did anyway.
Because that was how it always went.
They sat there for a while, shoulders brushing, the quiet hum of the city filling the spaces between them.
“Hey, Immergreen.”
Cecilia hummed in acknowledgment.
Gigi turned her head slightly. “Do you remember when you fell in love with me?”
Cecilia blinked.
Her first instinct was to scoff. To say what kind of ridiculous question is that?
But when she glanced at Gigi, she wasn’t smirking.
She was just watching her. Softly. Curiously.
Like she really wanted to know.
Cecilia exhaled, tilting her head back against the railing.
Did she remember?
Cecilia preferred to keep her head down. School was predictable, a rhythm she had perfected. Go to class, take notes, submit assignments, and move on.
Then Gigi transferred in, and suddenly, predictability no longer existed.
Gigi was a whirlwind. She made friends effortlessly, jumped from one conversation to the next with boundless energy, and had an uncanny ability to insert herself into anyone’s life, whether they wanted her there or not.
Cecilia didn’t think much about Gigi, at least, not until the day she forgot her textbook.
It hit her as the teacher began roll call. A quick check of her bag confirmed the worst, she had left it at home.
“Alright, everyone, open your books to page seventy-four.”
Cecilia stiffened. She could already feel the teacher’s gaze sweeping over the classroom, ready to pounce on any unfortunate soul who wasn’t prepared.
Then, a soft thud—a book landed on her desk.
She turned in surprise. Gigi, who sat behind her, had slid her own textbook forward.
Before Cecilia could react, Gigi shot up from her seat.
“Oops,” she drawled, stretching dramatically, “I forgot my textbook, sir.”
The teacher sighed, unimpressed. “Gigi, this is the third time this week—”
“I know, I know,” Gigi interrupted, hands up in surrender. “I’ll share with my desk partner.”
She plopped back down, tapping the side of Cecilia’s desk as if to say You owe me one.
Cecilia looked down at the book in front of her. Doodles of stars and little cats filled the margins.
She let out a quiet sigh, half exasperation, half amusement, and turned to page seventy-four.
Cecilia didn’t mind eating alone.
She had her routine: one sandwich, one drink, and a book. Lunch was a break, a peaceful pause in the middle of the school day.
Gigi, of course, had no concept of pauses.
Cecilia had just unwrapped her sandwich when a paper bag landed on her table with a soft thump.
She blinked at it, then looked up just in time to see Gigi strolling past with her usual group of friends.
Without stopping, Gigi called over her shoulder, “Eat more, Immergreen.”
Cecilia frowned. Immergreen?
Curious, she opened the bag. Inside was a neatly wrapped rice ball and a folded napkin with something scribbled on it.
She unfolded it.
Don’t get scurvy - GG
Cecilia sighed. Then, against all logic, she smiled.
It was an unusually cold morning when Gigi sat down next to Cecilia on the bleachers.
The gym teacher had sent the class outside to run laps, but Gigi, predictably, had found a way to avoid participating.
Cecilia shivered slightly, exhaling into her hands. It wasn’t that cold, but the wind was sharp enough to sting her fingers.
Then, without warning, Gigi grabbed her hands.
Cecilia nearly jumped out of her skin.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to pull away.
Gigi held on, grinning. “Your hands are freezing, Immergreen.”
Before Cecilia could protest further, Gigi rubbed her hands between her own, as if trying to start a fire.
Cecilia sat frozen, not from the cold, but from the sheer audacity of this girl.
“Better?” Gigi asked.
Cecilia wanted to say something sharp, something to remind Gigi that normal people don’t do this, but instead, she muttered, “They weren’t that cold.”
Gigi hummed. “Mhm. Sure.”
She let go as suddenly as she had grabbed them and stood up.
“I should actually run a lap, huh?” she mused. Then she winked. “Come with me, Immergreen.”
Cecilia watched her jog off before sighing.
She stood up, stuffing her hands into her pockets.
And, to her own surprise, she followed.
Cecilia liked the rain. It meant quieter hallways, fewer people lingering after school, and a peaceful walk home.
She had not accounted for the fact that she had forgotten her umbrella.
Standing under the awning near the school gate, she sighed, debating if she should just run for it.
Before she could decide, an umbrella was shoved into her hands.
She blinked at Gigi, who was grinning despite the drizzle.
“You look like a sad cat,” Gigi said. “Take it.”
Cecilia frowned. “What about you?”
Gigi shrugged. “I like the rain.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Dumb but kind, right?” Gigi winked. “Go on, before you catch a cold.”
Cecilia hesitated but eventually opened the umbrella.
As she walked away, she glanced back once. Gigi was standing in the rain, arms outstretched, twirling slightly like she belonged in some old movie.
What an idiot.
Cecilia prided herself on keeping her notes pristine. Straight lines, neat handwriting, no unnecessary markings.
So when she flipped to a fresh page in her notebook and found a tiny doodle of a cat in the corner, she froze.
Her eyes darted up. Gigi, sitting behind her, was twirling her pen like a baton, looking suspiciously pleased with herself.
Cecilia turned back to her notebook. The cat had big, round eyes and tiny little paws. Next to it, in messy handwriting, was a speech bubble:
Lighten up, Immergreen.
Cecilia sighed. Without a word, she picked up her pen and, in the tiniest writing possible, wrote back:
Stop drawing in my notes.
She slid the notebook slightly to the edge of her desk. A moment later, she saw it move, just an inch, before Gigi’s pen flicked across the page.
Cecilia pulled it back. Next to her message, Gigi had drawn another cat, this one sticking out its tongue.
Cecilia closed her notebook.
Gigi snickered behind her.
Cecilia always double-checked her things before leaving the house, but somehow, today, she had made a terrible mistake.
She realised it as soon as she stepped into the school building.
One black shoe. One navy blue shoe.
She stood frozen at her locker, staring at her feet in silent horror.
Then, a loud snort came from beside her.
Cecilia turned sharply. Gigi was grinning so hard she was actually bending over, trying to contain her laughter.
“Oh my god, Immergreen,” Gigi wheezed. “Are you—are you colourblind?”
Cecilia scowled. “It was dark, and I was in a hurry.”
Gigi wiped a fake tear from her eye. “This is the best day of my life.”
Cecilia huffed and moved to walk away, but Gigi grabbed her wrist.
“Wait, wait,” she said, still giggling. Then, before Cecilia could protest, she bent down, pulled off one of her own shoes, and swapped it for one of Cecilia’s mismatched ones.
Cecilia blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Now we match,” Gigi said simply, stepping back and admiring their ridiculous shoe combination. One black and one navy on both of them.
Cecilia stared at her. “That’s stupid.”
Gigi grinned. “But now we’re stupid together.”
Cecilia had a strict sleep schedule. Eleven o’clock, no later.
So when her phone buzzed at 12:07 AM, she nearly ignored it, until she saw the caller ID.
Gigi.
Cecilia frowned before reluctantly answering. “What.”
“Hey, Immergreen,” Gigi’s voice was light, almost sleepy.
Cecilia sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Why are you calling me?”
“I dunno,” Gigi admitted. “Just felt like talking.”
Cecilia stared at the ceiling. “It’s past midnight.”
“Yeah,” Gigi said. “Are you mad?”
Cecilia opened her mouth, ready to say yes, but instead, she let out a quiet breath. “Not really.”
A comfortable silence stretched between them.
Then, softly, Gigi asked, “What’s your favorite colour?”
Cecilia frowned. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know it yet.”
Cecilia hesitated. “Forest green.”
She didn’t know why she told her. But she did.
She heard the smile in Gigi’s voice. “Fitting.”
Cecilia rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched upward. “Go to sleep, Gigi.”
“You first, Immergreen.”
Cecilia sighed, but for some reason, she didn’t hang up right away.
Cecilia had learned to tune out distractions in class.
The murmur of students whispering, the occasional scrape of a chair, even the sound of someone tapping their pencil against the desk. It was all just background noise.
But there was one distraction she could never ignore.
A soft poke at her shoulder.
Cecilia exhaled through her nose. Not again.
She straightened, ignoring it.
Poke.
She hunched her shoulders slightly.
Poke, poke.
Cecilia whipped around, already scowling. “Stop that.”
Behind her, Gigi grinned, holding a cheap ballpoint pen like a sword. “Oh, good, you can hear me. I was worried for a sec.”
Cecilia groaned, turning back towards the front of the classroom.
Poke.
Cecilia inhaled sharply. “Gigi— ”
“Okay, okay,” Gigi laughed, putting her hands up in surrender. “But also, can I borrow a pen?”
Cecilia narrowed her eyes. “You have a pen.”
Gigi held up the offending ballpoint. “Yeah, but this one sucks. You have better ones.”
Cecilia sighed, digging into her pencil case. Without looking, she held one out behind her.
Gigi took it, but instead of a thank you, she tapped the back of Cecilia’s hand with it.
“Hey, Immergreen.”
Cecilia turned just enough to glare at her.
Gigi smirked. “You’re my favourite.”
Cecilia turned back around, but she could feel her ears getting warm.
She didn’t return the pen until the next day.
The worst part about Gigi’s poke-the-pen-into-Cecilia’s-shirt habit was that it could happen anytime, anywhere.
Like during a maths test.
Cecilia was deep in thought, working through a particularly difficult equation, when—
Poke.
She closed her eyes. Counted to three. Exhaled.
She continued writing.
Poke, poke.
She gritted her teeth. Ignore it. She’ll get bored.
Poke, poke, poke.
Cecilia turned her head around so fast that Gigi actually blinked in surprise.
“What,” Cecilia hissed under her breath.
Gigi wiggled her pen. “What’s the answer to number seven?”
Cecilia stared at her. “It’s a test.”
Gigi nodded, completely unbothered. “Yeah, and?”
Cecilia inhaled sharply. “Do. Your. Own. Work.”
Gigi sighed dramatically and placed a hand over her heart. “Ouchie.”
Cecilia turned back to her paper, fully expecting Gigi to finally focus.
Then—
Poke.
“Gigi, I swear—”
“I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Gigi said, eyes twinkling.
Cecilia debated launching a calculator at her.
Cecilia never made a big deal about her birthday.
She expected nothing. She was fine with nothing.
But when she opened her locker that morning, she found a small cupcake sitting inside.
A single candle stuck out from the top, unlit.
Cecilia stared at it.
Then, from beside her, a familiar voice.
“Happy birthday, Cecilia Immergreen.”
Cecilia turned. Gigi was watching her, an unreadable expression on her face.
Cecilia swallowed. “You remembered.”
Gigi grinned, nudging her lightly. “Of course I did.”
Cecilia looked back at the cupcake, something warm settling in her chest.
Quietly, she said, “Thank you.”
Gigi didn’t tease.
Didn’t make a big scene.
She just smiled.
Cecilia loved the school festival.
The sky exploded in colour. Red. Gold. Blue.
A brilliant shower of light, reflecting in the wide eyes of the crowd. The air smelled of summer; grilled food, melted sugar, the faint crispness of fireworks burning high above.
Cecilia barely took it in.
Because Gigi was standing in front of her.
Fidgeting.
Not fidgeting like she usually did, playful, restless energy that crackled around her like static.
No. This was different.
This was nervous.
Cecilia narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”
Gigi sucked in a breath. Then laughed, too loud, too quick. “Wow, Immergreen.”
Cecilia folded her arms. “I just—”
Boom.
Another firework, golden streaks fanning out like a blooming flower.
Gigi glanced up, the glow catching in her dark eyes before she looked back down, back at Cecilia.
Something in her shifted.
“I like you.”
The words were so simple, Cecilia almost thought she misheard them.
But Gigi was still looking at her.
Still fidgeting, but barely.
Still waiting.
The air between them was thick with the scent of festival food, of summer heat, of something fragile and new and terrifying.
Cecilia opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“No, I—” Gigi ran a hand through her hair, messing it up even more. “I really like you.”
Cecilia’s heart stumbled.
She couldn’t breathe.
The world was loud, fireworks bursting above, the chatter of festival-goers, music drifting from the stalls.
But all she could hear was Gigi.
Still talking, still rambling, because she must have taken Cecilia’s stunned silence as rejection.
Cecilia felt her stomach flip.
Because now that she was actually thinking about it—
Oh.
Cecilia suddenly felt too warm.
Like all the heat from the festival lights had sunk under her skin.
Cecilia’s pulse hammered in her ears. She wasn’t good at this. She wasn’t Gigi, who could say things without tripping over them.
But she looked at Gigi now, Gigi, who had spent time slipping into her life like it was easy, who had wormed her way into Cecilia’s heart without permission.
And all she could think was…
I’m in trouble.
“I think,” Cecilia began slowly, voice stiff and awkward, “that I might… like you, too.”
Cecilia didn’t expect much for Valentine’s Day.
Not because Gigi ever forgot.
But because Gigi was… Gigi.
Which meant she would either go way overboard or do something utterly ridiculous. There was never an in-between.
So when Cecilia walked into their apartment that evening, she braced herself.
She expected balloons. Maybe flowers everywhere. Possibly even Gigi jumping out from behind the couch with a dumb sign that said I STILL CHOOSE YOU, IMMERGREEN in giant, glittery letters.
What she didn’t expect was the smell of food.
Or the sight of Gigi, standing in the kitchen, hair messily tied back, sleeves rolled up, frowning intensely at…
A pot of soup.
Cecilia stared.
Gigi muttered something under her breath before turning and jumping when she saw Cecilia watching.
“Oh, hi! You’re—uh. You’re early.”
Cecilia raised an eyebrow, stepping further inside. “What are you doing?”
Gigi cleared her throat, looking suspiciously guilty. “Making dinner.”
“…You don’t cook.”
“I can cook.”
Cecilia eyed the absolute disaster that was their kitchen.
The flour on the counter, the cutting board stacked with poorly chopped vegetables, the open cookbook that was very clearly not being followed.
“…Sure,” she said.
Gigi groaned, running a hand down her face. “Okay, fine, I wanted to cook. For you. For Valentine’s,” she exhaled. “But I think I might have—uh. Overestimated my skills.”
Cecilia walked up to the stove and peeked into the pot.
The soup actually looked… decent?
She turned back, crossing her arms. “This isn’t a disaster.”
“Oh, yeah?” Gigi leaned against the counter. “You do remember the pancake incident last year, right?”
Cecilia winced. “How could I forget?”
“I almost burned down the kitchen.”
Cecilia sighed, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Gigi grinned. “You married me.”
Cecilia rolled her eyes. But she couldn’t fight the warmth creeping up her neck.
Because, honestly?
Yeah. She did.
And she’d do it again, in a heartbeat.
Gigi leaned in slightly, bumping their shoulders. “So… what do you think? Romantic, or deeply concerning?”
Cecilia exhaled, looking at the mess around them.
And then, without really thinking, she reached out, tugging lightly at the collar of Gigi’s shirt, pulling her in.
Just enough to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“I remember every moment I fell in love with you.”
Gigi blinked.
Then grinned. “Oh.”
Cecilia huffed. “Happy Valentine’s, idiot.”
Gigi let out a breathy laugh. “Happy Valentine’s, Immergreen.”
The soup may have been overcooked.
The kitchen may have needed an hour to clean.
But as Gigi wrapped her arms around her waist, swaying slightly, humming some out-of-tune love song—
Cecilia knew, just as she had known years ago, there was no stopping this.
Gigi had happened.
And Cecilia was still falling.
Always, always.