Work Text:
The room was silent, save for the faint ticking of Cecilia’s internal gears. She stood there, eyes downcast, fingers curled tightly against the fabric of her sleeve. Her breaths were uneven—if they could even be called that. A habit, a mimicry of something real.
Then, she spoke.
“Touch me.”
Gigi’s gloved fingers twitched at her side. She didn’t move.
Cecilia’s voice wavered, quieter this time, more uncertain. “Make sure that I exist.”
Something in those words made Gigi’s throat tighten. She should say something—should offer reassurance, should deny that Cecilia’s existence was ever in question—but the words wouldn’t come.
Cecilia lifted her head then, and Gigi felt herself freeze under that gaze. Green eyes, tired and glassy, looking at her as if she were the only person in the world who could prove she was real.
“Feel for yourself that I’m actually here.”
The request settled between them like a weight. Gigi exhaled slowly, hesitating. The distance between them had never felt so small, yet impossibly vast all at once.
Her fingers curled, the leather of her glove creaking softly. Could she do this? Could she cross that line?
Cecilia was waiting.
And Gigi… wasn’t sure if she was ready to answer.
Cecilia took a step closer.
Gigi didn’t move—didn’t back away, didn’t reach out. Just watched as Cecilia’s fingers trembled at her sides, hesitating, before finally lifting one hand between them. A silent request.
She was waiting.
Gigi exhaled softly, then—finally—took her hand.
Cecilia let out a shaky breath the moment their skin met, as if she’d been holding it in. Her hand rested in Gigi’s palm, porcelain-smooth, cool at first, but warming beneath her touch. Not like a machine. Not like something hollow. Gigi pressed her fingers lightly against the back of Cecilia’s hand, feeling the fine craftsmanship, the artificial seams, the delicate weight of it.
And yet—
She was real.
To Gigi, she was.
Cecilia’s eyes shimmered. A single tear clung to her lashes, refusing to fall. Gigi felt a pang in her chest at the sight.
They moved to the bed after a while, neither saying much, just sitting in the quiet that had softened into something more bearable. Cecilia had calmed, her breathing even again, but the tears hadn’t entirely gone.
Gigi traced slow, absent-minded lines across Cecilia’s palm, her thumb brushing along the delicate surface.
“You know what I feel,” she murmured.
Cecilia didn’t answer, only nodded. A few stray tears still clung to the corners of her eyes.
Gigi pressed her fingers to the centre of her palm. “I feel porcelain,” she said softly. “And it’s warm. And it’s real.”
She lifted Cecilia’s hand, bringing it up to her lips. “Your hands are beautiful, Ceci.”
A barely-contained smile flickered across Gigi’s face as she kissed the back of it, light and deliberate.
Cecilia let out a choked laugh—a real one, despite the tears, despite everything.
And it’s… it’s…
Warm.
Familiar.
Hers.
She lifted her free hand, hastily wiping at her damp cheeks. “I must look awful right now.”
Gigi tilted her head, still holding Cecilia’s other hand in her lap. “Not really. Kind of a mess, though.”
Cecilia groaned, slumping forward until her forehead pressed against Gigi’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean to me. I’m fragile.”
“You? Fragile?” Gigi let out a soft huff of amusement. “I think you could survive being thrown off a building.”
Cecilia mumbled something into Gigi’s sleeve.
“What was that?”
“I said, I wouldn’t want to test that theory.” She pulled back, pouting slightly. “I think I deserve kindness after all that.”
Gigi hummed in mock consideration. “Mm, I did just call your hands beautiful. Doesn’t that count?”
Cecilia sniffled dramatically. “I think you were just saying that to make me feel better.”
“I wasn’t,” Gigi said easily, running her thumb absentmindedly across the back of Cecilia’s knuckles. “They’re nice hands. Elegant. Pretty.”
Cecilia blinked at her, face still a little stained from crying, but something about the way Gigi said it made her stomach flip.
“…Really?”
Gigi smirked. “I mean, except for the part where you constantly use them for dramatics.”
“Hey!” Cecilia swatted at her with her free hand, but the impact was weak, softened by the lingering exhaustion from her emotions.
Gigi chuckled, catching the hand mid-air and intertwining their fingers before Cecilia could pull away. “See? Dramatic.”
Cecilia narrowed her eyes. “You are the worst.”
Gigi only smiled, squeezing her hand gently.
“You’d be lost without me, Ceci.”
Cecilia sighed, shaking her head as she rested against Gigi’s shoulder again. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Gigi kissed the back of her hand once more, lingering just a little longer, before she pulled Cecilia’s hand against her chest, holding it there like a treasure.
Cecilia could feel the steady beat of Gigi’s heart beneath her hand, and for a brief moment, everything felt right. Nothing was uncertain. Nothing was broken. They were simply two souls, tangled together in a soft, comforting silence.
“Ceci…” Gigi murmured again, her lips brushing against Cecilia’s ear, sending a shiver through her. “You’re here—with me.”
Cecilia’s gears sped up, her mind rushed. There was something about hearing those words, soft and sincere, that made everything else fade away.
She was here. She was real. And she was loved.
Gigi kissed her hand again, and this time, it felt like the world had shifted—gently, imperceptibly—into something warm, something that Cecilia existed in.