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It starts with a blanket and a quiet room.
No music plays, but the silence hums with possibility. Gigi lies on her back on the rug in the middle of the living room, arms sprawled out, legs still tangled in the cushions she half-heartedly kicked off the couch. Cecilia sits beside her, legs folded neatly beneath her, eyes flickering across a page of notes she’s not actually reading.
“I think I’m going to Mars,” Gigi says suddenly, like it’s something she just remembered she’d planned.
Cecilia glances down, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “Should I pack your scarf?”
“No need,” Gigi replies, sighing dramatically. “Mars is warm this time of year.”
“Right,” Cecilia says with a faint click in her gears as she shifts to lie down beside her. “And how do you plan on getting there?”
“I already started going up,” Gigi replies, eyes half-lidded, a small grin playing on her lips. “Every time I look at you, it feels like I float a little higher.”
Cecilia exhales, something between a laugh and a soft whirr of disbelief. “That was so corny, I think I lost signal on Earth.”
“But you smiled,” Gigi counters, rolling over to face her.
“I did,” Cecilia admits, meeting her gaze. Her green eyes are soft in this light, reflecting the faint gold from the hanging bulbs overhead. “Keep going.”
“Hm?”
“You said you’re going up. Keep going.”
Gigi’s grin falters slightly—just enough to be replaced with something more sincere. “I am,” she whispers. “I really am. I think… when I’m here, with you, it’s like I forget I was ever heavy. Everything in me that was sinking just… lets go.”
Cecilia reaches out, her porcelain fingers brushing against Gigi’s glove-covered hand. Her touch is gentle, deliberate. “Then don’t come down.”
“But,” Gigi murmurs, her voice quiet, “if I don’t come down, I’ll miss the part where you catch me.”
Cecilia’s eyes linger on her for a long moment. Then, with a slight tilt of her head and a voice soft as silk:
“I would catch you either way. Up there or down here. Mars isn’t that far, if you’re holding my hand.”
Gigi’s cheeks go warm. The room, though still and quiet, feels like it’s pulsing with something impossible to name. She presses their fingers together, palms mismatched, one soft with heat and nerves, the other perfect and mechanical.
They stay like that—silent, connected—until Gigi’s thumb shifts, tracing the edge of one porcelain knuckle. A tiny gesture, but it sends a jolt up her arm like she just reached out and touched starlight. Cecilia doesn’t flinch or pull away; instead, she shifts just a bit closer, letting their elbows brush.
“Can I tell you something stupid?” Gigi asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Cecilia hums, the sound low and inviting. “You’re already on a spaceship made of cushions, Gigi. I think we’re already beyond stupid.”
Gigi snorts gently, but her face tucks into the side of her arm like she’s trying to shrink away from what she’s about to say. “Sometimes… I think Mars is a person. Not a place. And she has green eyes, and a voice that makes the world quiet.”
Cecilia’s expression softens so fully it almost breaks her stillness. “Does Mars know you think of her that way?”
Gigi only shrugs, trying to suppress the curl of a smile. “I think she pretends she doesn’t. But she hears me. I know she does.”
“Then Mars must be very lucky.”
The silence between them stretches, not awkward but warm, like the weight of a shared blanket.
They lie there for a while, eyes on the ceiling, dreaming of red skies and soft landings. The metronome stays silent today. There’s no ticking, no rush to return to Earth.
And just when Gigi thinks Cecilia might fall into her standby cycle again—still and unreachable—she feels it. The smallest tug. Cecilia’s fingers curling more purposefully around hers, not tight, but firm. Like gravity, if gravity ever asked for permission.
“Hey, Ceci,” Gigi whispers, almost nervous to break the moment.
“Mm?”
“You’d really come with me?”
“To Mars?” Cecilia’s voice carries that slight upward tilt again—half question, half affection.
“Yeah,” Gigi says. “Even if it’s dumb. Even if I don’t know where we’re going.”
Cecilia turns her head fully now, her gaze direct and startling in its softness. “I’d go anywhere you go. Dumb or not.”
Gigi’s face crumples into a grin so wide it nearly splits her in half. “You’re such a sap,” she mutters.
“Only in low gravity,” Cecilia replies, and the two of them burst into quiet laughter.
They’ve just arrived.