#galco

“I couldn’t sleep.” It’s partially true. Falco’s expression shifts into one she knows well: creased brow, the corners of his lips pulled down into the slightest of frowns. He knows that she’s omitting something. He doesn’t press, just starts removing the cardigan. It’s then that Gabi realizes she’d started shivering again; it intensifies once the warm, familiar fabric wraps around her shoulders. She hadn’t noticed how cold she really was. “Thanks.”

“Do you want some company?” He knows she’ll say yes. He wouldn’t have asked if he knew she wouldn’t. Gabi waves at the spot next to her, a silent invitation for him to sit down. She tugs her hair out from where it caught in the back of the cardigan. She wraps her arms around her legs again, pulling them to her chest. “It was nice of Kaya to visit today.”

“She looked pretty happy to see you.” That isn’t true. Or maybe it is. Kaya still keeps herself guarded. Gabi initially thought she had been acting like that because she knew where they were from - and, later, what Gabi had done. She was expressive in anger, for sure, but, when she stopped by that day, she had the same placid expression with the same placid demeanor.

“Don’t be like that.” The shivers have finally subsided, though the breeze caresses her cheeks, biting the skin of her face. She watches the light swaying of the trees across the street, aware that Falco is watching her.

“Like what?” Gabi starts picking at a fray on the hem of her nightgown. She can hear her mother scolding her, telling her to stop making it worse.

“Jealous.” Falco leans back on his hands, so she has to turn her head to look at him. He’s smiling and looking at the moon, relaxed and comfortable. He’s teasing her to distract her from her thoughts; it’s what he’s always done when this happens.

“I’m not jealous,” Gabi says, dropping the hem and reaching to poke his cheek.

“Sure,” he says. She scowls and moves to poke his cheek again. He catches her hand before she can. His skin is so warm against hers that it’s on the edge of painful. His expression immediately shifts back to the one he wore when he first came outside. “We should go inside.” He attempts to stand, to use her hand to pull her up with him, stopping when she tenses.

“I don’t want to.” Not yet. She unwraps her arm from around her knees and uses it to tug at the front of the cardigan, pulling it tighter against her. It smells like him. She fights the desire to bury her face in the fabric. It reminds her of home, comforts her, invades her senses and leaves her nearly dizzy.

Falco frowns again, deeper this time, no longer trying to conceal the concern on his face. She moves to withdraw her hand from his. He covers it with his other hand, tightening his grip. “All right.” The warmth seeps into her skin before he starts rubbing her hand between his. He’s not looking at her anymore.

Something pulls at her stomach, drawing Gabi back to a day more than three years ago. She sees him jumping at her, looking happier than he had in a long time. There was relief in the tears in the corners of his eyes. They somehow landed with Falco underneath her, Gabi’s head narrowly missing clipping his chin. Even as he coughed and wheezed, he reached out and cupped her cheek and said, “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

Everything felt so raw, so weird that the first words that came out of her mouth - spilled out without her permission - were, “I can’t return your feelings.” She wanted to take it back immediately, wanted to snatch the words out of the air between them before they could find his ears. It was too late. He blinked, his smile dropping just a little. He moved his hand to her shoulder.

There was a long silence before he said, “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.” She became aware of her surroundings as the static in her ears receded. She climbed off Falco when she realized she was still on top of him.

Gabi knelt on the ground next to him as people started moving. She could have said, wanted to say, ‘Right now. I can’t right now.’ Her mouth felt dry, so much so that she didn’t think she’d be able to speak. Then the yelling started and they stood at the same time, turning to find Reiner standing in front of them.

The memory blurs as her mind jumps forward. The bite of the cold melts away from her hand. Falco brings it to his lips and breathes warm air onto it. She frowns and thinks and thinks.

Time had passed as they rebuilt, renewed, recreated. Falco, through all of it, stayed by her side, just as he said. He never withdrew from her, never gave any indication that he was heartbroken or that she had hurt him. Gabi didn’t try to push him away even though something in the back of her mind was telling her she should. That she didn’t deserve all of his kindness toward her.

Zofia and Udo were gone. She couldn’t confide in them anymore. She couldn’t talk to Reiner. She couldn’t talk to Falco. Pieck was away on a diplomatic mission that was projected to drag on for at least another month. She couldn’t wait that long. In the end, she cried with her head in her mother’s lap (something that she would forever deny, though her mother never brought it up) while her mother rubbed her back.

“Why do you think that?” she’d asked, and while there were so many reasons, Gabi was unable to speak. She stayed silent, her mother finally giving a little sigh. “Falco is so kind. He’d give you space if you needed it, but you could never chase him away.” She didn’t continue, but Gabi heard what her mother didn’t say. After everything, Gabi knew this - all of this - was true.

She never said anything to Falco. And so, as it does, time passed. Gabi spent a lot of her time with her family and an ever increasing amount of time with Mr. Levi (an interesting old man, though he took exception to being called that). The rest was spent with Falco. Nothing changed, but, at the same time, things did change. There was a shift inside of her, pushing her in a direction she didn’t quite understand.

Falco lets her hand go when the color has fully returned to it. She’s moved a bit, feet sliding forward, knees sinking closer to the ground. Her other, freezing hand rests in her lap. He doesn’t reach over to grab it. He holds his hand out, waiting for her. The skin of her right hand prickles from his touch. She could use it to warm up her other hand. She doesn’t need him to do it.

Gabi gives him her hand.

She’s been watching him this whole time, watching his expression flit through many different emotions. He’s smiling at her again. It’s not teasing or accusing or knowing (because of course he would notice her staring at him). It’s just...him.

Just Falco.

-

Mr. Levi didn’t ask them to help him with the teashop. He didn’t have to. Gabi was there on the first day, ready to help out. She’d never done anything like it before, but, compared to many other things she had learned or done in her life, it was easy. Easy enough that Mr. Levi rarely gave her instruction and left her to her own devices most of the time.

The regulars - mostly older women - loved to chat with her. They’d often finish their tea at the counter. Some of them were annoying. Some told her very interesting stories. Some wanted someone to talk at.

Many gave her love advice. It was confusing at first. Gabi didn’t make the connection right away. It always happened after she and Falco had spoken with one another, after he walked in the door and she greeted him, after she’d look at the door to the back of the shop even after he closed it.

None of them had said anything about that. They talked about their first loves and things they did to win them over. Gabi would pretend to listen intently, mind elsewhere. Usually it had to do with schoolwork. Sometimes it was about dinner. A lot of the time, it was about Falco.

They’d taken to playfully bickering at that point. Gabi would often bring up something so inconsequential that she’d forget about it shortly after they finished. The rest of the time, it was about some silly challenge and how she’d win with her superior skills. She’d goad him until he responded, which never took too long.

It took one of the old women making a humming noise and saying, “You’re such a cute couple,” for her to understand the intention behind all of their words. Gabi - who had just given Falco a gentle shove, holding onto his arm for a second or two longer than necessary - flushed to the roots of her hair. She couldn’t (and still can’t) remember a time when she’d blushed so hard. She didn’t know how to respond, what to say that wouldn’t potentially hurt Falco, when she heard him laugh next to her. It wasn’t quite his normal laugh; there was an edge to it that she didn’t recognize.

“We’re just good friends,” he said. When Gabi finally looked over at him, he was giving the woman a small, polite smile. He was standing in a beam of late afternoon sunlight that filtered through the front windows, cheeks tinged red but otherwise unruffled. His eyes flicked to the left, catching her gaze briefly before turning his face away.

“Yeah,” she’d heard herself croak, “friends.” Falco excused himself after this. Gabi fidgeted, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger as she watched him walk away.

“Oh, dear,” the woman had said, reaching over to pat Gabi’s hand on the counter. “My husband and I were stubborn, too, when we were your age.” Gabi let her other hand drop, hair uncoiling from her finger.

“It’s not like that,” she said. ‘I rejected him two and a half years ago’ sat on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t want more sympathetic noises or comparisons to the woman’s love life. Her face had finally started to cool down when she looked at the woman again. She forced a smile and asked, “Would you like another cup of tea?” The woman appeared to be about to protest, to continue, but she realized that her cup was, in fact, empty.

That night, Gabi hugged her pillow to her chest and thought, ‘Oh, so that’s what this is.’ It was nothing like the stories that her mother had told her about when she’d met Gabi’s father. It sounded simple. She anticipated it would be the same in her life: meet someone, develop feelings, start dating, and so on and so on. Straightforward. Easy.

She was left wondering what to do, how to move forward, if Falco felt the same at this point (even after what the woman had said when he walked away; he easily, smoothly assured her they were friends and left once Gabi agreed).

And then nothing happened. Things continued as they had, with one exception: Gabi understood the fluttering feelings in her stomach, acknowledged how content and at ease she felt around Falco, and wondered. The older women continued on the same path of offering unsolicited advice, and she continued to ignore them. Their stories weren’t applicable. They didn’t understand the situation.

It did, however, start to feel like they were moving toward something, toward an unseen and unknown point. Then Mr. Onyankopon informed them of the plans to return to Paradis. Gabi jumped at the chance to get a change of scenery, something to refresh her senses and make things work. It had taken one look at Falco for him to agree.

Paradis has certainly been a change. She can’t remember the last time her equilibrium had been thrown off like this. She envies how steadfast he remains.

Her left hand has been thoroughly warmed. Falco loosens his grip but doesn’t drop it. He looks up and meets her eyes. The wind whispers around them. His eyes are so bright in the moonlight. There it is: the feeling of movement. Are they moving?

The wind picks up and whips some of her hair into her face. Gabi withdraws her hand to push it out of the way. It immediately flies up, this time into her eyes. She grunts, annoyed, and pulls all of her hair over one shoulder to braid it. She has nothing to tie it with, but it should hold well enough. A lock of hair that she missed blows up over her mouth, edging toward her nose. She reaches to push it back, but there’s a hand already there, tucking it behind her ear.

“Doesn’t it feel weird?” It’s not what she intended to say when she opened her mouth. It’s what came out anyway. The hand withdraws; she misses the warmth (how is he staying so warm?) instantly.

“What do you mean?” Gabi toys with the end of her braid. She stretches her legs out in front of her. The hem of her nightgown lifts in the wind, drawing it up over her ankles.

“Being in Paradis. It doesn’t feel right.” If it were anyone else, they would have reminded her that it was her decision to go there. She peeks over at Falco, his face neutral except for the slight creasing of his brow.

“Why doesn’t it?” He moves to lean back on his hands again. Gabi wishes she hadn’t pulled away before, even though she hadn’t done it because she wanted to. Her hands are warm but it feels like something is missing.

“Why wouldn’t it? So much happened here when I got onto that airship and dragged you along with me.” She lets her hands drop to her lap. Falco hums. Silence falls between them. The leaves on the trees susurrate across the street.

“I don’t think it feels weird.” Gabi jumps at his words. She hadn’t been falling asleep. She had, however, started to list to the right: closer to Falco. When straightening up, she finds that she is closer to him than she was before. Not close enough to touch, but almost. “Why would it? You’re here with me.”

It’s not the first time he’s said something like that to her. She’s had bad dreams before. She’s spent days in hazes that feel infinite. Sometimes the phrase sits between them. Sometimes it brings her back from a place that is nowhere. Now? It makes her stomach lurch, her head buzz, her heart jump into her throat and pound hard enough to nearly suffocate her.

A gust of wind loosens her braid, flicking at the ends and tugging her hair over her shoulder. The feeling of it on her face distracts her from the static running through her veins. Falco, who had been smiling at her, now looks even more concerned. Everything she felt was internal, wasn’t it? There was no way he could have known what was going on in her head, right?

“Gabi, what’s -”

“I love you.” His mouth, still in the middle of forming another word, drops open instead. Her stomach twists. Her heart recedes into her chest. The buzz lessens to a low hum in the back of her mind. Gabi takes in a breath and lets it out, the smoke pluming between them before the wind carries it away. It feels like the first clear breath she’s taken in a long time.

Falco closes his mouth, opens it, and closes it again. A shiver runs through her body, one part cold and one part elusive emotion, beyond where she can reach. She finds herself shifting: angling her body toward him, knee bumping against his leg and startling him out of whatever trance he fell into.

“Gabi,” is all he says after that long silence. She purses her lips, unsure of what to make of his reaction. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes drop. The wind tosses some of her hair again. They’re close enough now that it flits between them and touches his cheek. He tucks it back like he did before, hand coming to rest on her cheek, just like all those years ago.

Gabi feels more agitated with each movement. This isn’t something she’d thought about ahead of time or planned or even considered happening like this. She hadn’t ever really thought about it. Maybe she should have listened to the old ladies at the teashop. Maybe they did have good advice and weren’t trying to relive their youth through her. She has to do something. She dusts off her hands, grabs the front of his pajamas, and pulls him in.

Gabi has never kissed anyone, but she knows it’s not a great kiss. Their noses mash together and their lips meet a little harder than she intended. She withdraws, opening her eyes and finding Falco staring at her. He hadn’t even closed his eyes. His hand slides to curl around the back of her neck. His thumb strokes the line of her jaw. It isn’t until her fingers start to ache that she realizes that she’s still holding handfuls of his pajamas. She unclenches them, bit by bit. She doesn’t let go because she’s afraid that he’s going to run (though she knows he never would).

“Falco.” He blinks and looks at her like he’s surprised that she’s there. “Are you going to say anything?” Her fingers feel stiff, unyielding, like she wouldn’t be able to let go of him if she tried. He then huffs out a noise near a laugh mixed with a sigh. She’s a breath away from shaking him out of frustration.

“This feels like another dream.” Falco’s thumb stops rubbing against her jaw. He takes another breath in to go on. Gabi stops him by finally letting go of his pajamas and reaching for his other hand where it sits on his thigh. She pushes her fingers into the sleeve to shift it up, digs her fingertips in, and gives him a pinch for good measure. His eyes widen. He lets go of her neck and covers her hand with his, pulling at it too gently for someone with fingernails sunk into their skin. “What are you doing?”

Gabi allows him to remove her hand from his arm, anticipating him dropping it into her lap. Instead, he continues to hold it, warm against her cooling skin. “Do you think you’re dreaming now?” His next breath is laced with laughter. He smiles.

“I guess not.” Gabi realizes how tense she is when a twinge digs into the muscle of her neck. She lowers her shoulders from her ears, flexing her fingers when she releases him. She watches the movement, unsure of what to do, where to go from here. “I love you, too.”

It’s not a surprise by any stretch of the imagination, but a shiver skitters down her spine: one that she knows isn’t from the cold night. She meets his eyes, grins, and says, “Of course you do. This is me we’re talking about.” Falco does laugh at this.

“Right.” He leans forward until their foreheads are touching. “It is you.” A long moment passes between them, matching silly smiles on their faces and a sparkle in his eye. He kisses her, soft and careful and warm, and it’s perfect as she laces their fingers together and -

“Now that you kids have sorted your shit out,” comes a voice from the door, making them both jump and nearly knock their heads together, “go to bed.” They turn to see Mr. Levi standing in the doorway, backlit and leaning on his cane. Gabi narrows her eyes at him.

“How long have you been standing there?” Mr. Levi had never asked her about her personal life, letting her offer what she chose to. He never invaded her privacy before. Anger bubbles underneath her skin (more from frustration over the fact that they had been interrupted than his spying).

“Long enough.” He jerks his thumb toward the inside of the building. “At least come inside before you freeze. It’s going to get colder.” He doesn’t wait for them to respond or even stand, just hobbling away toward his room.

“Come on,” Falco says, grabbing her face between his thumb and forefinger and squeezing her cheeks. The scowl on her face drops, the ferocity of her glare disappearing with it. “Mr. Levi is right. We should go inside.” Gabi doesn’t resist this time. She allows him to pull her to her feet. His arm wraps around her waist to draw her closer.

yeah

she doesn’t give a shit about Falco just at all

bonus: