Chapter Text
Gigi couldn’t breathe.
She didn’t understand. She was doing fine today. She’d taken orders. She’d spoken to customers like a normal person. She’d made drinks. She’d called out names. She’d even double checked to make sure every name was spelled right, so there was no chance of awkwardness or anger over a misspelling.
And yet, here she was. Sitting in her crappy truck—not even turned on yet—just as the first sprinkles of a thunderstorm were starting to fall. Alone. Last to leave the cafe for the day. Exhausted beyond what sleep could fix. Anxious beyond explanation. Tense beyond reason. And so confused.
She gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing saving her from a black hole and pressed her forehead into the top of it. Her day had been fine. She had been fine. So why were her fingers and toes tingling? Why couldn’t she pull in more than a little puff of air at a time? Why did she feel like she was about to cry? Why—
A knock on the driver’s side window saw her yelp and almost scramble over the gearshift. She took hold of the steering wheel again, noticing a tremble in her fingers now. Had she been shaking this whole time?
The woman outside her window… she recognized her. It was hard not to recognize her white and green hair. Even if she didn’t know her by her face, Gigi could see her name—Cecilia—on the to-go cup in her hand, in Gigi’s own handwriting. She couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that it was someone she knew.
Cecilia was a regular at the cafe. She got tea, every time. Never coffee. She’d told Gigi she hated coffee. Gigi thought it was weird that she spent so much time at a place that primarily sold coffee if she hated it so much. What was weirder though, was that she didn’t hate talking to Cecilia the way she usually hated small talk. She would actually venture to say she liked it.
Weirder still was the fact that Cecilia had interrupted her hyperventilating after closing time with a knock on her truck window. Did she need something? Was she here to make a comment about her tea today? Had Gigi done something wrong? No, she couldn’t have; she had Cecilia’s usual memorized by now. Oh, God, had she ordered something different without Gigi realizing? She thought she’d succeeded at getting through the whole day without spacing out. Had she—
Cecilia said something. Gigi didn’t know what. She hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on the rush of anxious thoughts flooding her mind. Her words were muffled by the window, anyway. At least that gave her an excuse to get away with not understanding the first time.
Gigi wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and reached for the truck’s window crank, because the poor thing was too old to have automatic windows. She wound it down and cleared her throat.
“What’d you say?” she squeaked. She started thinking about how many hundreds of job applications she’d have to fill out when she got home. Obviously, she couldn’t come back to work after her voice cracked that badly in front of a regular.
“Are you okay?”
… Oh.
Now that she was looking at Cecilia for longer than a second at a time, Gigi realized that she didn’t seem upset at all. Instead, she looked… confused? Maybe a little concerned, but mostly confused.
“I— Uh… I—”
Say something, idiot!
“Yeah! I’m good! I’m fine! Great!”
She clamped her jaw shut and forced a polite smile. Her hands were shaking worse than before. Could Cecilia see? Her eyes were stinging. Was she holding eye contact enough? Was it too much? Was she blinking a normal amount? Her chest was getting tighter every second. Was she even actually breathing? Did she at least look like she was? Would Cecilia notice if she didn’t?
“Uh… huh…” Cecilia didn’t look convinced. That didn’t matter as long as she didn’t pry, though, right? Maybe she’d forget about it within the night. She didn’t have any reason to remember something like this. “I was also going to ask—” Gigi’s frail sense of hope shattered into dread, “—if you could give me a ride to the dorms. Usually, I’d walk, but…” She gestured idly to the sky with her cup, obscured by gray clouds that were thickening by the minute.
The cafe was situated just down the street from the university campus. Gigi had made the walk herself, once or twice. But from the way things were looking and the thunder rumbling close by, rain would be coming in droves before anyone could make the walk from the cafe to the dorm halls. She could already see droplets collecting and trailing down the windshield in the corner of her vision.
“Uh, sure.” Gigi said it without hesitation and immediately kicked herself internally. She wasn’t some virtuous knight saving someone from the incoming storm out of the kindness of her heart. No, that wasn’t it. She was just a people-pleaser who couldn’t say no. Maybe she would get a little satisfaction out of knowing she helped someone, but she couldn’t deny the spike of anxiety she felt knowing that she’d just locked herself into letting a near-stranger into her mess of a truck.
Right next to her.
For a whole five to ten minutes.
Unaware of the surge of fear strangling Gigi—or just too polite to say anything—Cecilia gave her a bright smile. “Thanks.”
She started walking around the truck to reach the passenger door. Gigi took advantage of her few seconds alone to try to get her breathing under control.
Smell the roses, blow out the candle.
Smell the roses, blow out the candle.
Rose the— Wait, no.
Smell the candle— No, that’s not it. You can still smell a candle, though. But you can’t blow out roses. You can blow dandelions, I guess. But then—
A clunk at the passenger door snapped Gigi out of her digressing thoughts. Cecilia had tugged on the handle and found it locked, her brow quirked in confusion. Gigi reached over and pulled up the manual lock knob.
“Sorry,” she offered as Cecilia opened the door. It felt like a miracle that two deep breaths and getting distracted by her own mental phrasing had calmed her down enough to apologize without putting her foot in her mouth. Now a new problem made itself known: the month’s worth of junk in the passenger seat.
She hurriedly brushed snack wrappers, takeout bags, and sticky notes with scribbled reminders from the seat to the floorboard, having promised herself time and time again that she’d throw it all away eventually. “Not really used to having someone else in here,” she chuckled awkwardly. She stuffed a few loose papers into the sun visor overhead—probably homework or important documents she’d somehow forgotten about—before wet droplets on her arm reminded her to wind up her window.
“It’s not a problem,” Cecilia said as she settled into the seat and shut the door. “Thank you for the ride, Gigi.”
She knows my— Right. Stupid name tag.
“Yeah! I— I mean, of course!” she stuttered as she fumbled to get the pin off her shirt like it had personally offended her. “Not just gonna let you get drenched. Looks like it’s gonna be a really bad one.”
Only now that Cecilia was in the cab did Gigi realize that she’d been holding something in the hand that wasn’t occupied with tea. Now settled in her lap, she held a rectangular instrument case. Gigi couldn’t guess at what might lay inside. She hadn’t even known Cecilia played an instrument. Then again, why would she? It wasn’t like they were friends. Gigi didn’t have any friends.
Not any that were still on campus, anyway.
She ripped her eyes away from the instrument case and forced herself to buckle up and start the engine.
Just be normal. Act like she’s not even here.
She put it in gear and pulled a few feet out of the parking spot, only for the dashboard to chime, softly begging for attention. She slammed on the brake, caught more off-guard by the quiet alarm than she’d care to admit.
The emergency brake was still engaged.
She huffed and eased the brake handle down before grabbing the gearshift again. “Dumb thing doesn’t even work,” she muttered, half to herself and half to the startled person that definitely wasn’t sitting in the passenger seat.
It was fine. No one was there. No one knew about her rookie mistake. No one knew she’d done that about a dozen times before. No one knew she’d been ignoring the check engine light for months. No one knew she’d thought of investing in a bike because gas and maintenance were getting too expensive. No one knew she’d done the math and realized that even a used bike in good condition might not even be worth it. Not like she wasn’t used to running places anyway. She could use the extra practice. It was fine. Everything was fine.
It was fine. It was fine. It was fine. It was fine. Why couldn’t she just believe it was fine? Nobody knew about any of it. It wasn’t a big deal. It was fine. It was fine. Why was her chest tightening up again? It was fine. It was—
Shut up!
…
Her knuckles were white on the wheel and gearshift. She softened her grip, rubbing her fingers along the familiar plastic. The wheel used to be textured, but time and use had worn most of it smooth. The truck was almost as old as she was, if she remembered right. A hand-me-down she’d rather spend her whole life repairing than give up for something new.
Raindrops were now coming in a regular drizzle. She turned on the wipers. They squeaked in complaint, a reminder that they were supposed to be replaced a long time ago. She hadn’t made the time last summer when—
Nope. Nope. Not spiraling.
There was no incoming traffic. She pulled out of the parking lot.
…
It was too quiet. She had to sidetrack herself again soon, or she was going to lose her mind.
She had practice the next day. Six in the morning, like always. Probably an easier day. Four miles, maybe five depending on Coach’s mood.
She’d probably still finish in the back of the pack, though.
Chaser.
Shut up.
Thinking about practice was no help. Classes. She had three. All in the afternoon, so she’d have plenty of time to shower and eat after practice. Maybe even take a nap. No, actually, she had to make sure she studied for her econ exam.
She didn’t have work tomorrow. She thought she’d be happy about that. She’d have time. No rush between practice and classes. No obligation to talk to strangers. No sitting in her truck alone with indecipherable feelings after her shift.
No… Cecilia.
As if on cue, her guest started humming. Gigi thought she recognized the melody—a slow, haunting waltz. Probably some classical piece that everyone’s heard but no one knows the name of.
… It was really pretty.
…
Why did she care that she wouldn’t see Cecilia at work tomorrow? Again, it wasn’t like they were friends. She didn’t know anything about her, except for her usual order of tea and—as of a few minutes ago—that she played an instrument. Then again, she wasn’t even sure about that. It could be someone else’s. It wasn’t her business, either way. It didn’t matter.
Cecilia kept humming.
…
“What kinda instrument you got there?” The question slipped out without her permission, and louder than she meant to ask. Cecilia stopped humming and Gigi fought the urge to glance at her. She’d already asked a question she hadn’t meant to; she wasn’t going to make unnecessary eye contact too.
“Oh, it’s my violin.”
So it is hers. That doesn’t mean she—
“You play much?”
“Every day. I wouldn’t be here without it.”
“Here? You mean, like—“
“I’m here on a music scholarship.” She sounded proud about it. Just like Gigi had sounded when she told her mom about her athletic scholarship. Not like she even deserved a spot on the team—
“What about you?” Cecilia interrupted her thoughts. “Do you play any instruments?” Gigi chuckled despite herself.
“No, unless kazoos and rubber chickens count.” Cecilia giggled, low and genuine. It was nice. Relief that Cecilia didn’t find her joke stupid sapped the tension from her shoulders, and her heart swelled with pride at the simple fact that she’d made someone laugh.
“Well, that depends. Are you gonna go to grad school afterward to keep honing your kazoo skills?” Gigi hummed in mock thought. Was she smiling? When had that happened?
Oh. This is why it matters. This is why I care.
In the little time they interacted almost daily, Cecilia never made her feel dumb, or weird, or awkward, or like she wasn’t doing a good enough job. She rolled with the jokes and played along, matching her at every turn. They didn’t have “small talk”—they had banter. And that was why Gigi looked forward to seeing her.
“Mm, I’ve been thinking about it, but I don’t know if kazoo is really what I wanna do with my life, y’know?”
“Oh, yeah, I get you,” Cecilia offered sympathetically. Out of the corner of her eye, Gigi saw her go for a sip of tea.
She made the turn into the parking lot and realized too late that she was taking it too sharp.
Like she always did. Same stupid mistake, every time.
The front passenger wheel hiked up onto the curb, jostling Cecilia more than Gigi. Cecilia yelped in surprise, and Gigi didn’t need to look to know she’d spilled some tea on herself.
“Crap! Sorry about that.” Things had actually been okay for once, and she’d screwed it up at the last minute. Figures. She squeezed the wheel tighter again, like she could go back in time and take the stupid turn easier. She couldn’t, obviously. It was too late for that. Cecilia’s tea was spilled. Her ride was ruined. She would be glad not to see Gigi at the cafe tomorrow. She didn’t know why she ever thought things would be—
“It’s fine.” Gigi saw her gesture nonchalantly in the corner of her eye. “I was going to toss my clothes in the wash as soon as I got home anyway.”
…
It was… fine.
And somehow, when the words came out of Cecilia’s mouth instead of endlessly repeating in Gigi’s head like a crazed mantra… she actually believed they might be true.
“Oh.”
Wow, super intelligent, Gigi.
“That— That’s good. I’m glad. N— Not about the tea, but the—” She stole a glance her way, only long enough to see the tea on the front of her shirt. “Yeah. I’m glad it’s…” She sighed, embarrassed by her endless stuttering. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, Gigi. Don’t worry about it.”
It was fine. Cecilia wasn’t mad.
It was… fine.
Smell the roses.
“Yeah. Okay.”
The truck slowed to a stop in her usual parking spot. She yanked the emergency brake into its semi-useless place and left the stick shift in first gear as she pulled the key. Rain immediately washed down the windshield, like the wipers had never even been on.
Gigi finally let herself look at Cecilia for more than half a second. Yes, she had tea spilled on her collar, but she also had a soft smile above said collar. She… really wasn’t mad.
“So… Should’ve asked this before coming all the way out here and parking, but which hall are you in?” Out of the four dorm halls on campus, Gigi lived in the newest one. As such, it was situated all the way at the end of campus. They’d passed the other halls on their way here. If Cecilia lived in one of those, her walk would be—
“I’m in Justice,” Cecilia said. Gigi’s heart leapt to her throat, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was relieved or terrified. Cecilia wouldn’t have to walk back the way they’d come to one of the other dorms, so at least Gigi hadn’t screwed up in that way.
But they both lived in Justice Hall. And living in the same building meant they’d be walking into said building together. It meant they might see each other more in the future, outside of the cafe that kept them in a clean, simple dynamic of barista and regular and… What then? Were they friends after this? Or would they just… devolve into sharing awkward hellos that didn’t mean anything? No, definitely not. Not with Cecilia. Not if their regular talks—their banter—was anything to go by. It wouldn’t get awkward. Things would be fine.
But Gigi had to snap out of it and deal with walking inside before any of that would even matter.
“Great! Works out perfectly,” Gigi said, more in an attempt to convince herself than anything.
“So…” Cecilia’s smile thinned into something mischievous as they unbuckled their seatbelts. Not a cruel smile, like her teammates’ smirks sometimes were, but like she had a bad joke that she was about to let Gigi in on. “Are we running in together or what?” Gigi gaped.
“Huh?”
“Well, I’m not gonna walk out there,” she gestured to the now-howling storm outside. “Not with my violin. You wanna run in together?”
It sounded silly. Ridiculous, even. They were going to run halfway across a parking lot in pouring rain to the front door of the building they lived in. Why was Cecilia treating it like she was inviting Gigi cow tipping in the dead of night?
Gigi quickly decided she didn’t care. The more ridiculous the idea, the better, in fact. She was in desperate need of more whimsy in her life.
“Last one there’s a rotten egg!” Gigi returned the smirk. Cecilia lifted her cup to her lips, chugging down the last of her tea before getting a better grip on her violin case.
“I’ll do you one better; if I beat you, my next tea’s free.” Gigi chuckled.
“Joke’s on you—I have tomorrow off.” She said it to weasel out of the bet, but it pinched something inside her to remember what that meant.
I won’t see you tomorrow.
Cecilia shrugged. “Whenever I see you there, then.” Gigi cocked an eyebrow.
“Are you sure it’s for the tea? Or do you just want a reason to come see me?” she teased.
“Hey, hey,” Cecilia protested, though her smile betrayed that—somehow—she wasn’t upset. Gigi took that as the go-ahead to say something even more embarrassing.
“You want me so bad!” Gigi proclaimed, loud and proud for the storm around them.
“Shut up!” Cecilia laughed.
“Fine,” Gigi drawled. “If you get there first, free tea. If I win, though, you have to play me something when we get inside.” Gigi wiggled a finger at the violin in her lap. Cecilia scoffed lightly.
“Alright. As long as it’s something I know, I’ll play it for you.” Gigi flashed her a toothy grin.
“You can even leave your cup so you have a hand to shut your door.” She gestured to the pile she’d swept to the floorboard.
“Oh, how generous of you.” Cecilia lowered the cup to the pile of junk, moving it like a toy for a moment. “Look at me! I’ve summited the mountain!” she said in a high-pitched voice before letting the cup sit atop the rest. Gigi chuckled.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure I’m cleaning up.
“You ready?” Gigi settled a hand on her door’s handle.
“Go!” Cecilia popped her door open and was out in a flash.
“Hey, that’s cheating!” Gigi protested, but she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She hopped out and slammed her palm onto the lock knob before shutting the door and following Cecilia.
They were only a few weeks into the semester, and autumn’s chill hadn’t quite seeped into the air yet. The rain, on the other hand, felt crisp on her skin. The large drops came in what felt like sheets, drenching her within seconds. Normally, her clothes sticking to her skin would’ve made her miserable, but there was something different about today.
She wasn’t alone. She was with Cecilia, making a game out of the sucky weather. It was a race Gigi could easily win. Even as one of the worst runners on the team, she had run in more storms than the average person ever would. Cecilia didn’t know that. And she was carrying something extra, too.
But Gigi didn’t plan on winning. For one thing, it just wouldn’t be fair. Cecilia didn’t realize the advantage Gigi had. For another, Coach would kill her if she got herself hurt running too fast in the rain outside of practice. By the same token, she wouldn’t forgive herself if Cecilia dropped and damaged her violin trying to outrun her.
And… maybe she just… wanted to lose the bet. It was probably just guilt continuing to nag at her over the spilled tea, reminding her that she owed her a replacement. Or maybe… maybe it was because she wanted Cecilia to have a reason to see her again…
… Nope. Definitely guilt. That sounded more like her.
So, she took an easy pace. Cecilia stayed in the lead.
Wow. Can’t even catch up to someone who doesn’t run.
Shut up. I’m not trying to win. I’m trying to have fun.
A flicker of lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rumbled, near but not quite upon them. Gigi stayed behind, careful not to get close enough that Cecilia might try to run faster. She was thoroughly soaked from her hair to her shoes, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have a care in the world at this moment. She let out a laugh, a wild and free sound lost in the howling wind.
It felt so… so nice not to care for a minute.
Cecilia reached the alcove the front door was set in and turned back seconds before Gigi caught up.
“Ha! Loser,” she said without any serious bite. Gigi grinned and planted a hand flat on the door.
“Ha! You never touched the door! We said we were racing to the door, and you—“
“I don’t remember agreeing we had to touch the door—“
“That’s always part of a race—you have to touch the thing or it doesn’t count!”
“Oh, come on, I was here way before you!”
Lightning bathed the world in bright white, making both stiffen an instant before the following roar of thunder.
“Inside?” Cecilia asked.
“Yeah. Inside.” Gigi pulled her student ID card from her wallet and pressed it to the scanner on the wall. The lock clacked, and Gigi pulled the screechy door open. “After you, my dearest lady,” she offered with a bow.
“Why, thank you. Such a humble knight you are.” They both chuckled as they made their way into the lobby.
It was laughably apparent that just wiping their shoes on the large mat by the door wasn’t going to cut it. The two of them were soaked, and the RAs behind the counter were already eyeing them like they’d come straight from a war zone. Gigi… didn’t care, though. She was probably still riding the high from not caring outside.
“I’m on the second floor,” Cecilia said. “Which floor are you?”
“I live on first,” Gigi said with a shrug.
“Well, I’ll let you get home, then. Thank you again for the ride, it was very nice,” she half-sang.
“Yeah, of course! Maybe next time we won’t have to sprint through the rain!”
Next time? What do you mean next time?
Cecilia giggled. “Maybe. See you around, Gigi!” She headed for the stairs at the opposite end of the lobby.
“Seeya!” She watched her disappear up the stairs and, for some reason, stood staring at that spot for a few extra seconds.
I should head home before I start caring what the RAs think again.
As expected, as she started down the hallway to her room, the carefree elation that had made her feel… normal, she guessed… started to wear off. The weight of the day slowly returned. The clothes clinging to her felt uncomfortable and cold. Her shoes squished and squeaked with every step. She turned her mind to the next day’s plans again.
Practice first thing in the morning, then studying, then classes. And at some point—this time for sure—she was going to clean out her truck. Cecilia’s cup was in that pile of things to go through, and—
I didn’t tell her to lock her door.
Gigi froze. She thought back to that moment. Gigi had hit the lock knob on her way out—that much she knew for certain. But Cecilia had headed out for their silly race right away. Gigi hadn’t told her that she needed to lock the door.
She looked over her shoulder, considering going back out to take care of it. It was her mistake. A mistake she wanted to fix as quickly as—
A flash lit up the lobby, accompanied by a crack of thunder that made the building shake.
… It was fine. Not like anyone would want to take the junk on the floorboard. Not like anyone would want to steal the oldest truck in the parking lot. Not like anyone knew how to drive stick shift these days anyway. Not like anyone with half a brain would be trying to break into cars during this bad of a storm. It was fine. She sighed.
Right back to “It’s fine.” Great.
She turned and forced herself to keep walking to her room, trying very hard to put the idea of going back into the storm to lock the truck from her mind.
Once the door was shut behind her… she stood there. She didn’t know how long. She felt like she was thinking of everything and nothing, overwhelmed by both the noise of the day and the sudden quiet of being alone again.
She still wasn’t used to living alone.
She shook her head. It was fine. She’d made a small puddle on the linoleum already. She had to dry off, or she was gonna get sick.
A quick towel-down and a change of clothes later, Gigi draped herself across her bed with a sigh. She glanced at the bare mattress across the room.
… No, she couldn’t call her old roommate. It was the middle of the night for her. She cursed the planet for being round and time zones for separating them so cruelly. With nothing else worth staring at, she turned her half-lidded eyes to the ceiling.
…
I miss Cecilia.
She blinked. She didn’t know where the thought came from. Usually when she felt drained from the day, all she wanted to do was curl up and rest. But now, lying alone in a room that felt way too empty… she wanted someone to just… be there. Not even to talk or anything. In fact, she’d prefer not to talk. She just wanted to feel like she wasn’t limited to the extremes of being surrounded by strangers or completely alone. Just… comfortable silence, shared between two people living their lives in the same vicinity. And for some reason, she felt like Cecilia could give her that comfortable silence.
… She could find her. The RAs had put name tags on every door in the hall. It would be so easy to go upstairs and find her name and—
Gigi sat up, eyes wide.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not just gonna walk upstairs and find out where she lives. Am I seriously that desperate for company?
She groaned and flopped back on her bed again. Even if she was desperate, she wasn’t gonna be a creep. Especially not to a regular.
Rain kept pounding on her window. The wind kept howling. Every once in a while, lightning lit up her blinds and thunder sounded in accompaniment.
She thought about eating something. She could feel that her stomach would start growling soon if she didn’t. Then again… who would be upset if she didn’t eat? Her old roommate wasn’t there to put a stop to her self-destructive behavior. She’d regret it in the morning, sure, but… getting up felt like such a task. Rotting on her bed was the much easier option.
The rain kept pouring. Gigi shut her eyes. The world would keep moving, even if she decided not to. Even if she stayed put in this chamber of sameness and lonely quiet.
… She heard something.
Not the rain. Not thunder. Not her own breathing or heartbeat or even her stomach complaining. It came from outside of her room, and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
She heard it again and opened her eyes. It wasn’t quite the same. It came again, and repeated for a while, shifting a little in pitch every time. She sat up and tried to identify a direction it was coming from. It didn’t sound clear enough to be coming from outside her door.
Another sound replaced the first—a similar rhythmic sound repeating and adjusting. It didn’t come from the wall beside her. She didn’t have neighbors on the other side of the room. She hopped off the bed and walked to the door. Sure enough, it wasn’t coming from the hall.
Yet again, the sound changed. Having exhausted all the other possibilities, Gigi looked up at the ceiling again.
Yep. Upstairs neighbor.
Having identified where it was coming from, all that was left was to find out what the heck the noise was. Speaking of, it changed again. Similar pattern, different pitch and adjustments. Until finally, they stopped.
Gigi thought for a second that that was the end of it. It didn’t matter what the sound was. It was fine, as long as her neighbor didn’t keep her up all night.
And then there was another noise. Longer. A steady drone, though not unpleasant. It lasted about thirty seconds before changing. Another drawn-out sound, then another change. By the fourth time, Gigi realized each drone matched the pitch of one of the first four noises she’d heard. Like her neighbor was tuning a—
No. There’s no way.
The violin stopped. Then a drone of two notes at once. Then another two. Then another two. Then it fell silent again.
Surely, that had to be the end of it. It was tuned. No need for anything else.
Nope. Of course Gigi couldn’t be that lucky. The violin started up again, no longer held back by the limits of patient, clinical tuning. Now, it played a melody—one far too familiar to be a coincidence. One that gave Gigi goosebumps with the realization of a fact that she could no longer deny.
It was the same haunting waltz Cecilia had hummed in the passenger seat of her beaten-up truck.
Cecilia lived directly above her.
She was going to panic. Was she not panicking already? That was somehow the weirdest part to Gigi. How could she not panic? She’d fought off the urge to be a creep and find out where Cecilia lived, and now she knew anyway. They weren’t just hallmates; they were literally on top of each other. If there was ever a time to panic, it was right now.
And yet, her mind was clear. Quiet. Normal. The waltz coming through the ceiling effortlessly banished every “what-if” swimming in her mind, every fear-born worry, and even the nonsensical screaming that often filled her head.
It was… fine. Somehow.
She was fine.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes locked on the ceiling—no longer in numb apathy, but focused. Mesmerized, even. She’d kept up with a day of noise until it had become too much to handle. Her room had been so quiet that it made her feel hollow inside. But now, with the violin playing above her—with Cecilia playing above her—it was like a perfect balance had been struck. She was neither surrounded by strangers nor completely alone. She was a secret audience to a performance not meant to be heard. She was enjoying the peace of someone else’s presence without the expectations that came with being in the same room.
It was… wonderful.
Gigi wished it wouldn’t end. But of course, it had to. The song came to its conclusion and the violin went silent. She clung to the sound for as long as it decayed. And for a moment, she let herself hope that maybe Cecilia would keep playing. Maybe another song, or maybe the same one again. She didn’t care what Cecilia played, as long as she got to hear it through the safety of the ceiling that separated them.
She stared. She waited. She hoped.
The room and its oppressive emptiness faded back into her awareness. Rain poured. Thunder growled.
So did her stomach.
She sighed and pulled her eyes from the ceiling. It was fine. She didn’t need to keep playing. Not like Cecilia knew Gigi could hear her. Not like it would matter if she did.
…
… I should eat something.