Anonymous Gilda Green for /irt/


                                            >Be Anon, freshly awoken from sleep by someone banging on your apartment door.

                                            >You check the time, curse, and mentally prepare to chew out whoever the fuck's bothering you at this hour.

                                            >You drag yourself to the door and check the peephole.

                                            >Huh, it's a girl. That surly glare on her face is weirdly familiar...

                                            >Against your better judgement, you call out through the door.

                                            "Who's there?"

                                            >She brightens.

                                            >"Anon? It's Gil."

                                            >Gil? Gilda?!

                                            >You haven't seen her since you moved away.

                                            >You hurriedly undo the locks and open the door.

                                            "Gilda, what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night."

                                            >She grumbles, averting her eyes.

                                            >"...I got kicked out."

                                            >Damn. You'd heard through the family grapevine that she hadn't been on good terms with her parents for a while, but this was crazy. You'd have never thought uncle Viktor would go that far.

                                            "Fuck, Gil. I'm sorry. Come on inside. You can crash here for now."

                                            >She smiles, giving you a big hug.

                                            >"I knew it! I knew you'd help, Anon."


                                            >Be Gilda, finally in the one safe place you could think of.

                                            >Anon hasn't changed a bit.

                                            >He's a little taller and he hasn't shaved in a while, but you kinda dig the wild man look on him.

                                            >Mmmm. His apartment smells like him too.

                                            >You rub your hands together as you sit down on his couch.

                                            >It was a long-ass walk through the cold to get here, but totally worth it.

                                            >You knew he'd never abandon you. The only one of your cousins who actually gave a fuck about you.

                                            >"Hey, you alright? How'd you get here, anyway? Don't tell me you stole your old man's car or something."

                                            >...Damn, that's not a bad idea. Maybe you should've done that. Would've shown that old bastard.

                                            "Nah, I just walked here."

                                            >"What? Gilda, don't fuck with me. It's like twenty miles from here to where you live."

                                            >You huff. You'd never lie to him.

                                            "I'm serious! Dad kicked me out after... after we fought, and I walked straight here."

                                            >"For fuck's sake, Gil, it's freezing out there! And you came just in jeans and a jacket?!"

                                            >Anon grabs your hand and touches your cheek.

                                            >"You're like ice!"

                                            "W-What, you think he gave me time to pack or something?"

                                            >It's hard to stay calm when he's touching you like this with his warm hands, but you're proud that you only stuttered a little.

                                            >"Look, just get in the bath. You're gonna catch hypothermia like that. Maybe you already have."

                                            >Oh shit.

                                            >No, stay cool. Stay cool, Gilda. It's just his bath.

                                            >Just the bath that Anon uses.

                                            >Naked Anon in the bath.

                                            >Mmmmmmm.

                                            >You're dragged into the bathroom during your fantasy, and the sound of running water snaps you out of it.

                                            >''Alright, this should be hot enough. Set your clothes by the door when you strip down, I'll take them down to the laundry in a bit. You can have some of my stuff to wear tonight."

                                            >It takes you a moment to shake off your excitement and respond coolly.

                                            "S-Sure, dude. Thanks."

                                            >You're gonna wear Anon's clothes. You shiver, but not from cold.


                                            >You're back to being Anonymous, pondering what you should do next.

                                            >You take Gilda's dirty clothes from beside the door and replaced with some sweatpants and a t-shirt.

                                            >You hold the old bomber jacket in your hands, turning it over.

                                            >You got this for her a few years ago for a birthday. You're amazed she still has it.

                                            >Man, how did things get this bad? Her dad was always kind of strict, but this didn't seem right. Gilda wasn't a bad kid, she just... had an attitude.

                                            >A big attitude.

                                            >A monumentally large attitude.

                                            >It's not like she was hard to figure out, though. Just be nice to her, and eventually she'll be nice to you.

                                            >Though it always seemed like you were the only one in the family who knew that.

                                            >Heaving a sigh, you throw her stuff in your hamper and flop down on the couch.

                                            >Better let her take her time in the bath. You'll just nap a little...


                                            >Be a thoroughly warmed up Gilda.

                                            >You're soaking in Anon's bathtub, wondering if he's ever jerked off in here.

                                            >You're having a hard time not doing the equivalent.

                                            >You rub your chest, considering it, but Anon might be waiting for you.

                                            >There'll be plenty of other chances. Let's get out.

                                            >You drain the tub and towel off with the towel that smells most like him, and peek out the door to find the clothes you were promised.

                                            >Anon's shirt and sweatpants.

                                            >You shiver again.

                                            >It takes you all of two seconds to throw them on over your nakedness, and you shake out your wet hair before exiting the bathroom.

                                            "Hey Anon, I'm done."

                                            >You're answered with a snore.

                                            >He's passed out on the couch.

                                            >You feel a little guilty for waking him earlier.

                                            >But you're also excited.

                                            >You creep across the room, squatting down beside the couch to take a good look at his sleeping face.

                                            >…

                                            >You could kiss him right now.

                                            >No one could stop you.

                                            >You slowly reach out with a finger, giving his cheek an experimental prod.

                                            >"Mmmm?"

                                            >Whoa, he woke up!

                                            >You remember him being a way heavier sleeper.

                                            >Well, at least you checked first. That was almost a disaster. You still aren't sure he feels the same way yet.

                                            >"Hey Gil. All done?"

                                            "Y-Yeah."

                                            >"Alright."

                                            >He grabs your hand again. You reflexively squeeze his fingers.

                                            >"Hm. Yeah, I think you're out of danger at least."

                                            "Thanks, Anon. I'm sorry for just showing up..."

                                            >"Don't worry about it. That's what family is for, right?"

                                            "...You're the only one who thinks that. I-I mean, I agree, but, like, you're the only one who acts like that with me. It means a lot."

                                            >He smiles. You melt a little.

                                            >"I dunno about you, but I'm burnt out, Gil. We'll figure things out in the morning."

                                            "Totally. Yeah. Let's go to bed. U-Uh, can we share? Like, not to be weird, but I'm still kinda cold and-"

                                            >"Gil. Calm down. We can share."

                                            >YES!

                                            >Did you die on that walk? Is this heaven?

                                            >Getting into heaven is the least you deserve after all the shit you put up with.

                                            >Anon shuffles into his room, and you do your best to not just shove him into bed and wrap yourself around him.

                                            >He flops down on one side, and you take the other.

                                            >"G'night, Gil."

                                            "G'night, Anon."

                                            >You scoot over until your back rests against his.

                                            >Anon doesn't move, or recoil. You think you might have felt him lean into you a bit.

                                            >Oh fuck. Oh god. This is really happening.

                                            >You're so excited all the drowsiness from the bath has gone away.

                                            >You wait. It feels like forever, but it was probably only an hour or so.

                                            >When he starts snoring, you turn over slowly, resting your forehead against his back.

                                            >It's so broad. Was it always like this? Maybe he started working out after he left.

                                            >You shakily put your hand against it.

                                            >No response. He doesn't stop snoring.

                                            >You creep even closer, pressing your face against his back while your hand snakes around to his lower abdomen.

                                            >You take a deep breath and feel yourself get hot again.

                                            >But this is good enough for now.

                                            >You can just say the position was an accident in the morning.

                                            >You close your eyes and sigh.

                                            >You could almost thank your dad right now.

                                            >Almost.


                                            >You're waking up to the sensation of somebody clinging to you, so you're Anon.

                                            >You try to gently extricate yourself from your sleeping cousin, snickering at the sight of her drooling.

                                            >Until you feel a damp spot on your back.

                                            >Aw well. It's cute in its own way.

                                            >After slipping out from under her arm you leave a pillow in your place and head to the kitchen.

                                            >You ruminate on what you'll need to do as you set about making breakfast.

                                            >You'll have to take Gilda shopping, for one. Shirts and sweats are one thing, but you're not the sort to have women's underwear lying around.

                                            >And the big question is, do you tell her parents that she's with you?

                                            >After mulling it over, you decide that you'll wait until hearing her out to make that decision.

                                            >So what else, then?

                                            >Nothing springs to mind, so you decide that you'll just keep her company for the day.

                                            >You'll have to go back to work tomorrow, so you might as well get some quality time in while you can.

                                            >You smile at that thought.

                                            >When did you last get time with her like this?

                                            >Probably not since your last year of high school. You moved out after that.

                                            >You hear your door creaking open behind you and turn around to behold a half-asleep Gilda.

                                            >"Mornin', Anon."

                                            "Good morning, marathon girl. Your feet feel alright?"

                                            >"Mmm. I'll be fine."

                                            >You turn back to focus on cooking breakfast, and Gilda comes to peek over your shoulder, staring hungrily at the food.

                                            >You realize something.

                                            "...You didn't eat last night, did you?"

                                            >"Nope. I'm kinda broke right now. I mean, I'll look for a job and stuff! I won't try to freeload; I'd never weigh you down like that."

                                            >You turn and give her a smile.

                                            "Gil. You aren't a burden. I think this'll be fun, even. Just consider it an extended sleepover. Don't stress too much about finding a job."

                                            >Your money's on this blowing over relatively quickly anyway.

                                            >Gilda gives you a big hug from behind.

                                            >"You're the best, Anon. I mean it."

                                            "You're goddamn right. Go grab a plate and let's eat."


                                            >You're currently stuffing your face with your cousin's homemade cooking, so you're Gilda.

                                            >Today's already off to a great start.

                                            >Waking up in Anon's bed, smelling his smell first thing in the morning, and getting to talk with him while he made your breakfast was the tops.

                                            >You're never going home!

                                            >You lick your plate clean and toss it in the sink just as Anon finishes his.

                                            "So, we're hanging out today, right?"

                                            >He chuckles.

                                            >"Yeah, but we aren't just gonna sit here all day. You've got some stuff to do."

                                            >...You do?

                                            "Like what?"

                                            >"You aren't seriously planning on wearing only my clothes while you're here, are you? And you need your own toothbrush and whatnot. Let's go get you equipped."

                                            >You have zero problems with sharing any of those things. Clothes included.

                                            >But if Anon says so...

                                            "Cool. I'm ready when you are."

                                            >"Like hell. We gotta get your clothes washed first. I blanked on it last night, and walking around with you knowing you're going commando would be weird."

                                            "Wh-! W-Well, I mean, i-it's not a big deal, right? Why are you even thinking about that, weirdo?"

                                            >You're actually very excited that he's thinking about that.

                                            >Anon laughs at your outburst.

                                            "It's not a big deal to me. Just figured you wouldn't want to walk around nipping through your shirt, but what do I know?"

                                            >He points at your chest, and your cheeks burn when you look down to see two little nubs poking up under the fabric.

                                            >He's... looking at you. Looking at your body.

                                            >You grin.

                                            "What's the matter Anon, don't like a free show?"

                                            >You cross your arms under your breasts, making them even more prominent.

                                            >You're confident in three things: your speed, your fists, and your looks.

                                            >Even if you're related, you can get him going! With THESE!

                                            >Anon's face reddens a little, and he turns away.

                                            >"Don't play around like that, Gilda. It's weird. I'll go get your clothes washed, so you can use the shower first."

                                            "Sure. But I won."

                                            >"You and winning. Go bathe already, ya dork."

                                            >Anon gives you a little push.

                                            >You smirk as you strut by him into the bathroom.

                                            >You won alright.

                                            >You won the knowledge that Anon sees you as a woman.


                                            >You're in the laundry room of your apartment complex and a little ruffled, so you must be Anon.

                                            >Man, was Gilda always that... bold?

                                            >It's not really a bad thing, you guess, but it took you by surprise.

                                            >Both how she acted and how you responded.

                                            >Why did you look away? It's just Gilda.

                                            >Just your younger cousin you always doted on, because no one else would.

                                            >...Well, that's not true. It wasn't just pity. You did it because you cared about her.

                                            >You two had always been together, given how close your dad and his brother were. All through life and all through school, there was Gilda, two years behind you.

                                            >When you told her you were moving out, she took it surprisingly well, but in hindsight that probably just her playing tough.

                                            >...Still, little girl's grown up. Those were at least a pair of C’s, if not D's.

                                            >You shake your head, trying to scatter the impure thoughts.

                                            >Don't go down that road, Anon. It leads to awkward family reunions and the kid from Deliverance.

                                            >When the dryer finally dings, you gather up Gilda's clothes and return to your apartment.

                                            >You knock at the bathroom door.

                                            "Gil, you in there? Got your stuff here."

                                            >"O-Oh, uh, sweet, thanks!"

                                            >It takes a few seconds, but the door opens, and her arm reaches through to take the bundle.

                                            >A few minutes later she steps out fully dressed.

                                            >"Sorry for the wait."

                                            "No sweat. I'll shower and dress really quick and we'll go."

                                            >It happens just as you say, with Gilda waiting on your couch as you dress in your room.

                                            >You both pile into your old junker and drive to the mall.

                                            >Gilda walks a little slower than usual.

                                            >Her feet probably hurt like hell after yesterday, despite what she said.

                                            >You slow your pace to match, and she bumps your shoulder with hers.

                                            >"So, where do you wanna go first?"

                                            "You tell me. I'm not letting you leave here without at least a few extra sets of clothes, though."

                                            >Gilda thinks for a second, and you swear you see that smile she gets when she's planning something for a second.

                                            >"Let's get clothes last, since that'll take longest."

                                            "Fair."

                                            >The next little while is just the pair of you wandering around the mall, grabbing necessities.

                                            >Gilda finally leads you to the clothing section and wastes little time picking stuff out.

                                            >She's not really into girly clothing, which you guess will keep laundry simple.

                                            >Not like there's much difference between women's and men's jeans and t-shirts.

                                            >There's no cure for the awkwardness that comes with standing beside her while she picks out underwear, though.

                                            "Look, I'll just go stand outside-"

                                            >"Aw, c'mon Anon. Getting embarrassed? You washed my stuff just fine earlier."

                                            >You've got no comeback for that.

                                            >You just stand still and try to look at nothing.

                                            >Gil doesn't let you.

                                            >"Hey, how about this one?"

                                            >She's got that fuckin' smirk again.

                                            >She's holding up a bra against her breasts, hands cupping herself.

                                            >So that's it, huh? You guess it's your own fault for showing weakness this morning.

                                            >Time to remind her that older cousins are not to be messed with, even the ones who love you.

                                            "Eh, it's not bad. Wouldn't say it's your color though."

                                            >"W-Wait, what-"

                                            "How about..."

                                            >You scan the racks of rack racks, and then settle on a pale purple one.

                                            "Here. This one's good."

                                            >You hold it up in front of her, wearing a smirk of your own.

                                            "Not too fancy, not too plain. I think it'd suit you."

                                            >Ha! Great success. She's beet red.

                                            >"...Y-You think so?"

                                            "What, gonna ask for fashion advice and just ignore it? Hurts, Gil."

                                            >"A-Alright, Anon, I get it. I'm sorry."

                                            >...She's being weirdly meek.

                                            >Was that a little too much?

                                            >People watching might get the wrong idea...

                                            >You glance around to check, but Gilda muttering interrupts your chain of thought.

                                            >"I guess I'll get panties in the same color. Since you like it."

                                            "Huh?"

                                            >"Nothing! I-I just need more. Let's go."

                                            >She drags you by the wrist as she picks out the rest, only letting go when you need to pay, the red never leaving her face until you're both finally home.

                                            >"Geeze, you surprised me..."

                                            "Look, it was shitty jab on my part. I'm sorry if it was weird."

                                            >"No, no, I don't mind. I just... wasn't ready."

                                            >You let her get her stuff packed away while you dust off your N64.

                                            >One of the few things from your childhood you absolutely refuse to part with.

                                            >Gilda smiles when she comes back out of the bedroom and sees it.

                                            >"Whoa. You still have that old thing? Kinda thought you'd have sold it by now."

                                            "Like hell. This thing ages like wine, gets more valuable every year. It's a crucial asset in my retirement fund."

                                            >She laughs, squatting down next to you while you put it back together.

                                            >"Like it'll last that long. Better just sell it now."

                                            "Not a chance. Gotta let the value appreciate. And think of all the times I whooped your ass at Goldeneye on this. Can't put a price on that."

                                            >Her eyes narrow.

                                            >"I was just a kid back then. I'm better now."

                                            "Suuuuuure. Not like I didn't keep trouncing you while we were in high school or anything."

                                            >"Like I said, I'm better now!"

                                            "Okay, prove it."

                                            >"I will! And you're gonna owe me something after I win!"

                                            >You snicker as you plug everything in and switch on.

                                            >It already feels like old times.


                                            >You're currently reliving your childhood with the man you love, so you must be Gilda.

                                            >And when you say reliving your childhood, you mean getting killed in multiplayer by Anon.

                                            >Repeatedly.

                                            >While he cackles about it.

                                            >You smile.

                                            >He's cute when he laughs like that. And he's the only person you don't get riled up about losing to.

                                            >You're in a good mood, anyway.

                                            >You think back to the mall.

                                            >It took all you had to not squeal when he picked out that bra for you.

                                            >You can't wait to wear it.

                                            >And someday, you'll get him to peel it off of you.

                                            >The dopey grin on your face persists even as Anon murders you virtually for the umpteenth time.

                                            >Hours pass, just like this.

                                            >The games change a couple times. You even manage to beat him at that old Star Wars podracing one.

                                            >Anon sets down his controller and stretches.

                                            >"Well, I'll admit, you're a little better Gil. Juuuuuuust a little."

                                            >You laugh as you fall onto your back.

                                            >He doesn't have much furniture in his apartment aside from the couch and tv stand, and the carpet's surprisingly nice for such a small unit.

                                            >It's relaxing to just lie down like this.

                                            "You're such a dweeb. How many hours do you spend playing by yourself? Be honest."

                                            >"That was the first time in a while, actually. Work keeps me out at night, and I try to hit the gym a few times a week."

                                            >Oooooo. You smell a chance for bonding and touching Anon's muscles.

                                            "You should take me with you. I'll outlift you at everything, but I'll help you get on my level."

                                            >"This fucking girl! She does track and field for three years and starts thinking she's Zyzz."

                                            "I dunno, Anon. Looks like you kinda went soft to me."

                                            >It doesn't. Not in the slightest. Like you noticed last night, he seems even bigger than he used to be.

                                            >But you know how to push his buttons like no other, and when you push juuuusst hard enough-

                                            >Anon snorts, falling into a wrestler's crouch.

                                            >"Fuck around and find out."

                                            >Aw, yeah. This'll probably hurt a little, but it'll be so worth it.

                                            >You roll onto all fours and lunge at him.

                                            >You do your best to drag it out.

                                            >Grabbing his hands, locking your legs around him, every little touch you think you can get away with, you try.

                                            >It goes even better than you'd hoped, even if it ends with you pinned to the floor under your burly cousin.

                                            >...You're a little wet.

                                            >"And that's pin. Whaddya got to say to that, little miss sprinter?"

                                            "M-Maybe I was wrong. Maybe."

                                            >Anon laughs, and you sigh as he lets you stand up.

                                            >It's over for now, but you'll bait him into it again later.

                                            >It felt so nice.

                                            >"As fun as that was, I gotta make dinner."

                                            "Oh, lemme help!"

                                            >"Sure. Do you know how to cook at all?"

                                            "Not really, I guess. But I just have to do what you tell me, right?"

                                            >"The high and mighty Gilda, takin' instructions. What's the world coming to?"

                                            "Anon!"

                                            >"Hahahaha! Sorry, I'll stop. It's not like I can make anything crazy fancy, so I'm sure you'll pick it up quick."

                                            >He puts on a little half-apron and you try not to squee.


                                            >You're teaching your younger cousin one of the more important life skills, so you must be Anon.

                                            >A four-star chef you are not, but you've survived on your own cooking for this long, so it can't be that terrible.

                                            >Gilda silently soaks up your every word, sticking close to your elbow as you work.

                                            >You let her do some of the steps, like cutting and spicing. She does okay for a first attempt.

                                            >When all that's left is to let it cook, you broach the big question.

                                            "So, Gil."

                                            >"Yeah?"

                                            "What happened with you and your dad?"

                                            >She groans.

                                            >"It's... It's nothing. Dad just... You know how he is. He overreacts to every little thing."

                                            >Which tells you that it was something serious, uncle Viktor was arguably justified, and it was kind of a big deal.

                                            "Gil..."

                                            >She looks away, shoulders slumped.

                                            >"...It's a long story."

                                            "I got nothing but time."

                                            >"Just... not right now? Please?"

                                            >You shake your head in exasperation.

                                            >What the hell did she do? It isn't like her to keep trying to hide something from you.

                                            "When, then?"

                                            >"...In bed."

                                            >You roll your eyes.

                                            "Gilda, come on-"

                                            >"I will! I swear I will! I just... Need to get everything straight in my head. A lot of dirty laundry got hung out that night."

                                            >Christ. Well, nothing to do but wait, you guess. She never breaks her word to you.

                                            >You give her a one-armed squeeze that she returns before dishing up dinner.

                                            >Not bad, if you do say so yourself. Gilda sure likes it.

                                            >She cleans her plate even faster than you do yours.

                                            >She remains a little subdued for the rest of the night until you both feel like turning in.

                                            >You hear her pants fall on the floor, and avoid looking at her until she's under the covers.

                                            >She scoots closer to you, eyes darting to your face, to seemingly anywhere else in the room after a moment of eye contact, then back to your face.

                                            >Doesn't take a genius to know she isn't looking forward to this.

                                            >Raising your arm up in invitation gets a quick smile out of her, and she presses in against you, snuggling as you lower it back down around her shoulder.

                                            >...Okay, you meant for this to be a lot more wholesome than it feels.

                                            >You were not prepared for the sensation of her legs against yours.

                                            >Or various other parts of her against your torso.

                                            >Too late now, Anon. You gonna refuse that smile?

                                            >Didn't think so.

                                            "Alright, Gil. What the fuck did you do to your dad, and how long do I need to hide you from him?"

                                            >She takes some deep breaths.

                                            >...A slightly weird number of deep breaths.

                                            >But she does begin.

                                            >"So... Dad wanted me to go straight to college after I graduated. I did pretty great in track. He thought maybe I could get in somewhere on a scholarship. I didn't really want to. Not right away. I... I actually wanted to come find you and ask what you think. But that's for later. Anyway, I tell Dad I want to put it off for a while. He got really pushy about it, and I didn't get why. Like, yeah, I probably could get into somewhere with how fast I am, but it was just annoying, you know? And I told him you did this whole thing where you left to figure yourself out, and I wanted to do the same, and..."

                                            >Anger creeps into her voice.

                                            >"Do you know what he fuckin' said to me? That you were just slacking off. That you could've gotten into somewhere too, with how you wrestled, but you won't now. I... I got really mad at him for that. I know you. That's not you."

                                            >You rub her arm as she continues.

                                            >"I... I took a swing at him, Anon. I got him pretty good, too. We got into it, and... And I told him that you'd taught me more than he ever had."

                                            >She squeezes you tight.

                                            >"And he said, that if you did such an amazing job, that I must not need him anymore, and that I could just go live with you. And he kicked me out."

                                            >...For fuck's sake, uncle Vik.

                                            >Is that seriously how he sees you?

                                            >True, you aren't exactly shooting to the top right now, but...

                                            >You drag a hand across your face as Gilda trembles.

                                            >You give her a squeeze.

                                            "Hey. It's alright. I... I dunno all this about me teaching you more than he did, but I'll take care of you as long as you're here, alright? I'll try and get this sorted out."

                                            >Gilda presses her face against your chest, mumbling into it.

                                            >"...I meant every word."

                                            >Your cheeks burn. You aren't sure how to respond. You always knew she looked up to you, but you didn't know you meant that much to her.

                                            >Gilda falls asleep with her cheek rubbing against your chest, but you remain awake for a while, staring up at the ceiling.

                                            >This is a little more serious than you thought.

                                            >Part of you wants to believe that Viktor didn't really kick his own daughter out to walk twenty miles in the cold, that he was just bluffing and Gilda didn't bother calling him on it, but you can't be sure.

                                            >...If he did, you owe him a couple hits yourself.

                                            >You look back down at Gilda, sigh, and give her hair a little tousle before closing your eyes.

                                            >One thing's for sure: you're going to need some more relatives on your side to get this mess sorted out.

                                            >Your dad's probably a good place to start.


                                            >You wake up to find yourself in a position you've fantasized about before, so you must be Gilda.

                                            >You're pressed against Anon's big warm body with morning light filtering through his blinds.

                                            >With your ear to his chest like this, you can hear his heartbeat.

                                            >It's soothing. You could probably go straight back to sleep if you wanted to.

                                            >But this is a rare opportunity.

                                            >You gently raise your upper body, propping yourself on an elbow as you look down at his face.

                                            >This time you'll do it for sure. He's fast asleep.

                                            >Your free hand softly strokes the side of his face.

                                            >Anon doesn't awake. He hums in his sleep, turning his head towards you.

                                            >Your faces are inches apart.

                                            >You'll finally know how it feels...

                                            >Slowly, painfully slowly, you lower your lips down onto his.

                                            >It's not much of a kiss. You don't dare put any real force into it.

                                            >But it's still enough to leave you breathless.

                                            >You have to stifle a happy giggle as you lower yourself back down, pulling the blanket back over the two of you.

                                            >Someday you'll do it properly. But that... that was a nice little treat.

                                            >You're about to shut your eyes and go back to sleep when Anon grumbles fitfully.

                                            >He rolls towards you, and suddenly you're wrapped in both his arms with his nose in your hair.

                                            >All you can do is squeak.

                                            >Was he awake after all? D-Did he like it too?!

                                            >He murmurs your name.

                                            >Your heart hammers against your ribs as you wait with bated breath, but nothing else happens. He's still asleep. Maybe he's dreaming of you?

                                            >That thought makes you happy. You nuzzle against his neck.

                                            >...You wonder if he'd like neck kisses...


                                            >You're a dreaming Anon.

                                            >The little girl laughs as you carry her around on your back.

                                            >You're little too. You can barely carry her weight, but you do your best. You like making her laugh.

                                            >Things are different now. She likes to run almost as much as you like to wrestle. You watch her leave others in the dust and cheer.

                                            >She smiles at you in the stands.

                                            >You smile back.

                                            >Things change again. You're back on the mats. It's quarterfinals in the winter tournament.

                                            >Your opponent slips your hold, reversing it.

                                            >You resign yourself to defeat. But then you hear her screaming your name.

                                            >You come alive again. The crowd howls as you perform a reversal of your own.

                                            >You win. It's all thanks to her. You push through the bystanders, trying to find her.

                                            >...Where is she?

                                            >She should have been right here...

                                            >The bleachers melt away and you see her.

                                            >Walking down a frigid street, breath coming out as a dense fog.

                                            >No. She doesn't belong out here. She doesn't deserve this.

                                            >You shout her name and run to her.

                                            >She turns around just as you wrap your arms around her.

                                            "Gilda!"

                                            >She looks up at you before biting your neck-


                                            >You grunt as you become fully awake.

                                            >The first thing you're aware of is the shuddering girl in your arms, and you immediately let go and scoot back.

                                            "Sorry, Gil."

                                            >"N-No problem. You okay? I think you were dreaming or something. What was it about?"

                                            "Just... Just old memories. You want breakfast?"

                                            >"Kinda, but, uh, I wouldn't mind sleeping in if you want to too. Just saying. You don't have to get up early for me, Anon."

                                            "Well... Sounds good to me, I guess."

                                            >You flop back down into bed, Gilda squeezing in close once again.

                                            >When did you get so comfortable with her being so... clingy?

                                            >You feel like you should resist it, but you don't hate it in all honesty.

                                            >And it's just a bit of harmless cuddling. She trusts you; you trust her.

                                            >No need to get all weird about it.

                                            >You close your eyes, listening to Gilda's breathing.

                                            >...Huh. She's breathing really hard for some reason.


                                            >After a few more hours of sawing logs, you decide that you can't delay getting up any further.

                                            >Breakfast goes by as you discuss the day.

                                            "Well, I was thinking we could go hit the gym at noon. I usually like to have time left over to shower before going to work."

                                            >"Wait, you're actually gonna take me?"

                                            "Why wouldn't I? It sounds like fun."

                                            >Gilda does that thing where she tries not to look stoked, and you have to resist chuckling at her.

                                            >She always liked moving around. She tolerated your love of video games, but when you were kids she preferred doing physical stuff.

                                            >She's probably still the same.

                                            >You throw on your usual exercise gear and lend her another pair of your sweatpants.

                                            >One short car ride brings the both of you to your iron temple of choice.

                                            >It's pretty good considering what you pay for it. They even have a pool!

                                            >You lock your stuff up in one of the lockers and lead Gilda to the weights.

                                            "Today's back day for me, but you don't have to follow along if you don't want."

                                            >"What's the point in bringing me along if we aren't gonna lift together, dweeb?"

                                            "I was just being considerate of that delicate runner's constitution."

                                            >She punches you in the shoulder, but growing up with her taught you to spot the subtle meanings in her body blows. That was just a love tap.

                                            >At least you think so. It's been a while. Your Gildanese might need some refreshing.

                                            >You rub your shoulder as you make your way over to the nearest pull-up bar.

                                            >You both crank out a few sets of ten and move on to heavier things.

                                            >Like deadlifts.

                                            >You first set goes fine, but Gilda's a bit off with her form.

                                            "Keep your back straight, Gil. You're gonna fuck yourself up if you bend midway through."

                                            >You place your hand on the small of her back.

                                            "Try again."

                                            >You swear you've told her this stuff a million times before, but she never seems to internalize it...

                                            >Aw well. You're here with her, so you'll make sure she stays safe.


                                            >You're intentionally lifting with bad form so your cousin touches you, so you must be Gilda.

                                            >Fuuuuck, this was just as good as you'd hoped it would be.

                                            >Watching Anon lift was great in and of itself, and now you can conveniently forget proper form to get some hands on instruction.

                                            >Literally.

                                            >His lectures aren't even that annoying.

                                            >You'd sit through them all day as long as he kept his hands on you.

                                            >Through the next exercise, and the next, all the way through his routine, you always find some little mistake to make to keep Anon close to you.

                                            >And you do your best to show off.

                                            >You matched him on pull ups, and went as heavy as you dared on everything after.

                                            >Anon would always lift a little heavier than you, though.

                                            >Sometimes a lot heavier.

                                            >But that was just fine. You loved watching him work. You loved chasing after him. Him being there always gave you something to measure yourself against.

                                            >And now, you'd get to do this multiple times a week. Get strong alongside him.

                                            >Maybe you'd even get strong enough to pin him down one of these nights. You wonder if you'd be able to control yourself if you could.

                                            >You shudder as your imagination goes straight to the gutter.

                                            >You came to terms with how you felt a long time ago. You didn't give up even after he left home.

                                            >Quitting isn't in your nature. And he's worth struggling for.

                                            >By the time you two are done, you've both worked up a good sweat.

                                            >You wipe your face on your shirt as the two of you leave the gym.

                                            "Not bad, Anon. I guess you remembered all those training routines they taught you."

                                            >"Yeah. I'm not part of a wrestling team anymore, but I'm trying to get better than I was. How about you? How was track your last couple years? You still in touch with that friend... uh... with the crazy hair..."

                                            "Dash?"

                                            >"Yeah, her. You still talking to her? I remember you thought she was cool."

                                            "Yeah. We had a little spat, but we made up last year. Turns out her other friends are cool too. Even the super annoying one."

                                            >"Nice."

                                            >He pulls out his keys and unlocks his car door, leaning across to get the lock on yours before you continue.

                                            "And track was alright. I kinda missed my number one cheerleader, though."

                                            >"Yeah... I'm sorry. I should have been back to see you, at least."

                                            "Yeah. You should have."

                                            >...Aw, fuck, that came out a little harsher than you meant.

                                            >He looks hurt. Your hand goes to his shoulder.

                                            "I just... we all missed you. Not just me. And your dad said you were only gonna be gone for a year, and then it turned into three. I was scared you were trying to leave us behind or something."

                                            >He turns to look at you, his hand clasping the top of yours.

                                            >"I'd never do that."

                                            "Well, yeah, but... I still felt like something was wrong. Like you were more distant. Your texts kept getting shorter. I started getting afraid that you didn't want to come back, or..."

                                            >Or that he didn't care about you anymore. But that hurts too much to say out loud.

                                            "Gil, I... It's nothing like that."

                                            >He turns the ignition and begins pulling out of the parking lot as he speaks.

                                            >"I moved out because I wanted to see how far I could get on my own. At least, that was a part of it. My parents and I driving each other nuts was another big part of it, too. Even if I miss them now, it doesn't mean that I'm in a hurry to move back in."

                                            >With one hand on the steering wheel, the other comes back to hold yours again.

                                            >"I stayed away for so long because I wanted to have something to show for it when I came back to visit. And I don't. Not yet, at least. But I care about you, okay? I'm sorry I did a shitty job of showing it."

                                            >You savor the feeling of his fingers squeezing yours for a few seconds before responding.

                                            "Alright. But I don't forgive you yet."

                                            >He snorts.

                                            >"No more than I deserve, I guess."

                                            "You're damn right. You know I was stuck hanging out with the rest of the kids at family functions, right? And you're the only one I can stand? You owe me for that suffering, dork."

                                            >"Suffering my ass. Giselle and Oleg are terrified of you, and Natalya's... Natalya. She's too dumb to be scared of you. And the older kids could take us or leave us."

                                            "Doesn't mean it didn't suck not having you there."

                                            >"...Alright, alright. I'm sorry."

                                            "Still don't forgive you, but thanks."

                                            >Anon rolls his eyes, and you snicker, giving his hand a squeeze.

                                            >You're already mostly over it, but you'll never tell.

                                            >Anon pulls into his parking spot and you both climb up the stairs to his unit.

                                            >"Mind if I shower first? I gotta get ready for work."

                                            "Go for it."

                                            >As he closes the bathroom door behind him, you realize something.

                                            "Wait, where do you even work?"

                                            >You can hear the slight grimace in his voice, even if you can't see his face behind the bathroom door.

                                            >"A nightclub. I'm a bouncer."

                                            "Ha! Seriously? You always hated dealing with people."

                                            >"Don't fuckin' remind me. I still hate it, but it's all I could get hired for."

                                            "Aren't you supposed to be like 25 to do that?"

                                            >"...Special circumstances."

                                            "Like what?"

                                            >"Like shut up and let me shower, Gil!"

                                            >You snort.

                                            >You'll let him off for now, if only because you're busy imagining him naked in there.

                                            >Anon's shower is short, and the sight of him walking around in a towel is a work of art.

                                            >You take your turn, rubbing yourself down a little more than was necessary.

                                            >Easy, Gilda. You'll have the place to yourself in a little bit, and when you do... Mmmm, boy.

                                            >One steamier-than-normal shower later, you emerge with a towel around your torso to find Anon already dressed.

                                            >Shit. That's what you get for being overeager in the shower. You could have watched him change!

                                            >The only thing that's different from how he normally dresses is the black shirt with "security" in block print across the front.

                                            >Juuuuuust tight enough to really contour his shoulders. Nice.

                                            "Lookin' good."

                                            >He looks over you for a moment before turning away, cheeks slightly colored.

                                            >"Thanks. Spare key's under the door mat and there's plenty of places to eat within walking distance. Left a bit of money on my dresser. Gonna have to get your own dinner; I get off super late. I'll see you in the morning if not tonight."

                                            >He turns to leave, but you aren't done with him yet.

                                            >As he opens the door, you press yourself against his back, chest first.

                                            "Have a good night at work~."

                                            >He jumps a little bit.

                                            >"Quit it! You're gonna get my shirt wet!"

                                            >You snicker as he hurries out.

                                            >Turning around, you head back into his room, dropping your towel and falling face first onto Anon's side of the bed.

                                            >You've been holding back for almost two days. Time for a bit of relief.

                                            >You burrow down into the sheets, huffing his scent as your hands begin wandering.

                                            >You squeeze your eyes shut and remember the sensation of your lips on his, and the sight of him lifting heavy, muscles taut under his skin.

                                            >You're raring to go. One hand grips a breast, the other snakes down between your clenched legs.

                                            >You moan his name into the pillow.

                                            >You try your hardest to pretend it's his hand on your chest, his hand sliding a finger into your tunnel.

                                            >You aren't in the mood to drag this out, so you find the little spot and press down hard, grinding the tip of your finger against it while your other hand digs into the soft flesh of your chest.

                                            >You think about what position you'd do it in first, given the chance...

                                            >Your conflicting desires for Anon to make a total mess of you and for you to rock his world clash, but for the first, you think you'd prefer being in charge.

                                            >Anon beneath you on the bed. Pulling his shirt off over his head. Sinking back onto his length.

                                            >You wonder what it looks like.

                                            >You'll try and take a look at it next time you're up before he is.

                                            >You take a long, hissing breath through your teeth.

                                            >Mashing your spot isn't enough. You need a little more.

                                            >You open your eyes, rising up to sit on your hand and look around the room.

                                            >Something, anything...

                                            >Your eyes fall back on his pillow.

                                            >Oh god. The thought of him laying down on it tonight afterwards sends a thrill up your spine.

                                            >You pull your finger from within you and take his pillow in both hands, planting it beneath you before settling down on top of it, fabric pressed against your slit.

                                            >You start slow, rolling your hips in gentle circles as you revel in the feeling.

                                            >It's so good. You're going to make a mess of his pillow, but you can't stop yourself anymore.

                                            >You gyrate faster and faster, leaning back to hold your ankles for leverage.

                                            >Your grinding devolves into needy humping as you get close.

                                            >You arch your back, letting out a loud moan as you climax.

                                            >Your mind goes blank, and you slowly fall over onto your side.

                                            >Fuck, that was awesome. Just what you needed.

                                            >You lay there catching your breath for a few minutes before getting up to inspect the pillow.

                                            >…

                                            >You were really pent up. You should probably wash that thing.

                                            >But you've got hours until Anon gets home. Plenty of time.

                                            >So much time, in fact, that you could probably just keep going.

                                            >You glance over at his laundry basket. You can see a few dirty shirts inside.

                                            >It's gonna be a fun day.


                                            >You're pulling up to your job while trying to get your cousin off your mind, so you must be Anon.

                                            >She shouldn't have this much effect on you. It's just the same old Gilda. A little older and a little thicker where it counts, but it's still your younger cousin.

                                            >That you can still remember the feeling of her pressed against you in her towel was not good.

                                            >Deep breaths, Anon. It's just skin. Just her trying to mess with you like she always does. Let it go.

                                            >By the time you find a place to park, you're collected enough to face another night of dealing with drunk people.

                                            >You make your way into the club and punch in, collect your walkie-talkie and earpiece, then make your way back to the door, nodding at coworker's greetings.

                                            >You know their names and faces, but don't really interact with anybody other than the other bouncers and the manager.

                                            >You take up your position by the door, but it's still going to be a while until the busy hours come.

                                            >You should have time for a phone call.

                                            >You whip out your phone and find your dad in your contacts.

                                            >He picks up after a couple rings.

                                            >"Hey, son. Something the matter?"

                                            "Hey dad. Nah. Well, yeah. But not with me. Have you heard from uncle Vik at all?"

                                            >"Yeah. I'll assume you already know what happened, then. Is Gilda with you?"

                                            "Not right now, but she's at my place."

                                            >"Good. Viktor's... In a rough spot. I don't know what she said, but it's got him frothing at the mouth."

                                            >You wince.

                                            >It was said in the family that the only thing Gilda inherited from her dad was his temper.

                                            "She, uh, gave me a rundown. Look, I get how he must feel, but I think he went too far, dad. She had to walk twenty miles in freezing weather to get to me. That's fucked up. You can't tell me it isn't."

                                            >"And I won't."

                                            "So you agree that this is on him?"

                                            >"I'm trying to get him to see it that way, yeah. Your aunts have been trying to talk him down too, but it's going to take time. Bring her back when we've got him cooled a little. He'll need to hear it from her before he gets it, I think."

                                            "Sure, but when's that gonna be?"

                                            >"Bring her by the house this weekend. It'll be neutral ground, and Gilda will relax a bit with you there."

                                            >You sigh. You'd sort of expected this, but it'll still be awkward to go back and see your extended family after three years of living alone.

                                            "Alright. Tell everybody we'll be there."

                                            >"Great. Looking forward to seeing you, Anonymous."

                                            "I'll talk to you later, dad."

                                            >You hang up and pocket your phone just in time to avoid your manager seeing you with it out.

                                            >"Hey, Anonymous. It's a private party tonight. This here's the list. Check ID's, and search them even when they're one of the guests. Lorenz is gonna help you."

                                            "Got it."

                                            >"That's what I like to hear."

                                            >Boss man walks off, and Lorenz saunters out of the club to join you shortly after.

                                            >"Ay man. Ready?"

                                            "Sure. Same as always, except we check their name against the list, right?"

                                            >"Yep."

                                            >He studies you a moment before breaking out in a grin.

                                            >"Yoooo, did you score last night?"

                                            "What? Why?"

                                            >"Ya got a hickey on your neck, ya fuckin' animal. Someone was into you!"

                                            >What the hell?!

                                            "Seriously?"

                                            >"Don't play dumb with me, man. Was she hot?"

                                            >This is the last thing you need right now.

                                            >How did you bruise your neck? Nobody's gonna take you seriously like this!

                                            >You growl in frustration, and spend ten minutes trying to convince Lorenz he's wrong before people start lining up.

                                            >Time passes as quickly as the faces do.

                                            >You fall into a simple rhythm.

                                            >Check I.D. Check the list. Search. Admit.

                                            >You have to deny entrance to a few people on account of the event.

                                            >All the regulars get it.

                                            >Most of the others do too.

                                            >But there's always a few that grumble, and the hickey on your neck earns you a few snickers.

                                            >You send them all off with a look and a curt denial of there being a "ladies' way in."

                                            >Finally, all the guests on the list are accounted for, and you can just lock the front door.

                                            >Lorenz shoots you one last knowing smile before you both split up to start walking around the club.

                                            >This is probably the easiest part of the job. Just keep your eyes and ears open for trouble, and wait for the rest of the shift to go by.

                                            >Your thoughts return to Gilda as you circle the establishment.

                                            >She'll probably be pissed to have to deal with her dad again so soon after getting kicked out, but it'll be good to get this over with.

                                            >Letting it fester would only make it worse.

                                            >If everything goes right, she should be back home soon.

                                            >Part of you is saddened by that thought. You really enjoyed getting to see her again.

                                            >You get lost in your thoughts. The last partygoers clear out before you know it, and you're walking out to your car in the frigid night air.

                                            >Part of you wishes every night was that calm, but the other part knows that they wouldn't have hired you if it was always like that.

                                            >You make your way home along the darkened roads and tread softly up the stairs.

                                            >As soon as you open the door, you know something's going on.

                                            >The lights are still on, and you see Gilda leap up from the couch.

                                            >"Welcome home!"

                                            "Hey. What are you doing up?"

                                            >"Y-Your sheets needed a wash. And I figured, hey, might as well do the rest of your wash too."

                                            >That's... weirdly considerate of her. And is she wearing one of your shirts?

                                            >Before you can put voice to your questions, you're pulled over to the couch by your wrist.

                                            >She's got the N64 on. Looks like Star Fox.

                                            >Gilda basically manhandles you down onto couch, and flops down beside you, resting her head on your thigh as she reaches down to pick the controller back up off the floor.

                                            >"Laundry's almost done. Like twenty minutes left on the last dryer load. And I didn't eat yet. Figured we could get delivery from somewhere."

                                            "You still haven't eaten? Why? It's past midnight!"

                                            >She huffs.

                                            >"I-I just wanted to eat together, alright? I dunno what's good around here. Don't have my phone to check."

                                            "Gilda..."

                                            >You groan as your head flops back against the couch.

                                            >Whatever. It's not worth butting heads over this. If anything, her wanting to wait until you got home to eat put a warm feeling in your chest.

                                            >You pull out your phone. Being the big eater you are, you've got a few delivery numbers saved.

                                            "What do you feel like?"

                                            >"I'll eat whatever."

                                            "Chinese it is."

                                            >One phone call later, you've got a few cartons of meat and rice on the way.

                                            >Your stomach rumbles at the thought.

                                            >Gilda keeps her head on your thigh as she blasts Andross' army on screen.

                                            >"How was work? Knock any heads?"

                                            "Nah. Tonight was quiet. Private party, and nobody was looking for trouble. Fuckin' weird, though..."

                                            >"What?"

                                            "I got a bruise on my neck somewhere. One of the guys at work pointed it out, thought it was a hickey. People kept giving me shit for it, too."

                                            >She goes rigid for a second.

                                            >"R-Really? Sucks, dude. Wonder how that happened."

                                            "Yeah. I just can't figure it out."

                                            >There's a stretch of silence as you watch her play.

                                            >You consider telling her about your call with your dad, but decide it can wait until after your late dinner.

                                            >For right now, you can just relax.

                                            >Gilda gets through a few planets before heading off to collect the last of your clothes from the laundry room.

                                            >You take it into your room once she gets back, folding your clothes before finally getting everything put away.

                                            >You head back to the couch and sink back down on it, and Gilda reclaims your thigh as her headrest.

                                            >She scrapes through alright until she hits Macbeth.

                                            >But the Forever Train ain’t something a casual can take on.

                                            >You hold back a laugh as she snarls in frustration.

                                            >”Dammit! Ugh, this is impossible. How are you supposed to hit all the switches when there’s all that other shit coming at you?”

                                            “Pfft. Here. Let big cousin show you how it’s done.”

                                            >She grumbles, sitting up and passing you the controller.

                                            >You breeze through Corneria like the cakewalk it is, making sure to ace the secret boss just to really rub it in.

                                            >You’re about halfway through Sector Y when the Chinese food arrives.

                                            >You pause to pay the guy and bring the bags back inside, Gilda hovering around your shoulder hungrily as you pull everything out.

                                            >You don’t know why Mongolians know how to make such kick-ass beef, but you’re thankful for it.

                                            >After serving yourself a plate, you sit down on the floor and get back to blasting.

                                            >Gilda sits next to you, devouring her food.

                                            >You’re feeling good about this run. Might beat your personal best, even.

                                            >You take a quick break after each stage to eat, but eventually arrive back at Macbeth.

                                            >You shoot Gilda a smirk, but she keeps her face expressionless.

                                            >…Until she breaks out into that scheming smirk.

                                            >As the opening cutscene plays, she scoots behind you, and you feel hands on your shoulders.

                                            >”Lookin’ stressed, Anon.”

                                            “I am now, yeah. What are you doing?”

                                            >”Nothing.”

                                            “Nothing my ass. Seriously, if you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.”

                                            >”Then why worry?”

                                            >You snort, redirecting your attention to the screen.

                                            >Everything’s fine at first. A pair of hands on your shoulders is nothing to you.

                                            >But then the hands start sliding down to your chest, and you feel something awfully soft on the back of your head.

                                            “Gil. Come on.”

                                            >She still plays innocent.

                                            >”What?”

                                            “Stop.”

                                            >”Why? Can’t I hug my favorite cousin?”

                                            >You pause the game and turn your head upwards. You glare up into the smirking face looking down into yours.

                                            >”What’s the matter? Can’t focus?”

                                            “Knock it off. You shouldn’t be doing shit like this to me. We’re…”

                                            >You trail off as her smirk gets wider.

                                            >”Whoa, man. Careful. Wouldn’t want me to think you were getting turned on or something.”

                                            >You grimace. So we’re still on this “who’s gonna blush first” shit, huh? Fine. You used to touch sweaty men on a mat in front of an audience while wearing an excruciatingly tight uniform. Shame is a myth to you.

                                            >You casually pull on the collar of your work shirt, revealing some of the muscle beneath.

                                            “Gil, if you want to touch my body, you just gotta ask.”

                                            >Gilda’s eyes turn wide as saucers, hands frozen where they are on your shirt. You lean back into her, your weight forcing her back with a yelp. She’s pinned between you and the couch, your head cushioned on her chest as you stretch out on the floor, yawning for dramatic effect.

                                            “Don’t be shy. Wouldn’t want me to think you got horny looking at my muscles or something.”

                                            >The tomato hue of her face and the sputtering noises she’s making inform you that you have won this strange game of chicken.

                                            >You snicker, resuming the game. You don’t get another peep out of her even when the burning Forever Train gets sent straight into the weapons factory, ending the level.

                                            “Not so impossible after all, eh?”

                                            >She’s a bit slow to respond.

                                            >”…I guess not.”

                                            >You’re crowing internally. Maybe she’ll finally quit the weird sexual teasing after this. You didn’t like the feelings it brought up from your subconscious.

                                            >The next level goes by in peace, with you still using Gilda as a beanbag chair. It’s… comfortable, despite the slight weird feeling about using your cousin’s boobs as a pillow. She doesn’t seem to mind either.

                                            >Still, it’s getting so late it’s almost early. You should get to bed after this run. With Gilda subdued by your masterful utilization of your nonexistent boundaries, the rest of the night should be peaceful.

                                            >The Star Fox Team is beginning their attack on planet Venom when your hopes are dashed.

                                            >”…Anon?”

                                            “Hm?”

                                            >”C-Canitouchyourchest?”

                                            >It takes you a second to fully parse the jumble of noise.

                                            “Uh… Sure.”

                                            >Gilda’s hand shoots under your shirt, and the rough exhale that comes out of her mouth raises your hackles.

                                            >You now must try and get to Andross with a hand roving over your chest and abdomen, another arm wrapped around your shoulders, a nose in your hair, the sensation of a fat tit either side of your neck, and the unsettling premonition that you’ve just made a mistake.

                                            >You rush through the level, unable to enjoy it as you try to shut out external feelings.

                                            >Which leaves you with your internal feelings. Not much better.

                                            >It gets to the point where you can't stand the quiet, and you blurt out about the first thing that comes to mind.

                                            “Uh, Gilda?”

                                            >”W-What?”

                                            “I talked to my dad while I was at work. About what’s going on with you and your dad.”

                                            >Her hand finally stops, but she tightens her grip on you.

                                            >”What did he say?”

                                            >You recount the plan to make her dad see the light. She scoffs.

                                            >”Look, I appreciate you and uncle Incognito trying to do that for me, but it’s fine. I'm having a great time with you. Dad's opinion is pretty fucking low on my list of things I care about right now."

                                            "I get that, but... Look, I'm not saying you have to go home after you settle things with him, but you should still-"

                                            >"Wait, hang on! Really?!"

                                            "Uh, yeah?"

                                            >"But- I thought you'd want me to-"

                                            "I just want you to do whatever makes you happiest. If you want to keep staying with me, fine. I'll have to take back what I said about you not needing a job, but I'd never say no. I'm having fun too."

                                            >There's a moment of silence.

                                            >She pulls her arm out of your shirt and gives you a proper hug.

                                            >"Thank you. I mean it."

                                            "Don't worry about it. As I was saying, you should at least try to tell him all that shit to his face or he'll never learn. If he does, great. If not, whatever. We'll all tell him he's a moron together."

                                            >She snickers.

                                            >"Alright. I'll do it."

                                            >You nod and sit up straight.

                                            "Good. On that note, I need sleep."

                                            >You switch off the console. You're too tired to care about losing the score, and you kept fucking up towards the end anyway.

                                            >You both brush your teeth and drag yourselves into bed.

                                            >You kick your jeans off and out from beneath the covers.

                                            >You feel Gilda's back against yours as you pass out.


                                            >You're back to back with your favorite person and have your right hand pressed against the side of your face, so you must be Gilda.

                                            >Holy fuck, your heart is still pounding.

                                            >You thought you'd gotten all your urges out earlier today given what you did to Anon's bed and how you'd worn a few sets of his dirty clothes before he came home, but getting to hold him like that brought it all back.

                                            >And he'll keep you here even after you settle things with your old man! Even if that conversation had been the only thing to happen tonight, you'd be over the moon.

                                            >You wonder if you can get away with casually holding him after tonight.

                                            >He said you just had to ask. And knowing him, he'll be weirded out a bit, but he won't say no.

                                            >So you just have to keep doing it until it stops being weird.

                                            >At least, that one psych class you took in school said so.

                                            >You'll try something different tomorrow.

                                            >You stretch out beneath the covers, rolling over and scooting up a little bit to nuzzle his hair.

                                            >Having gotten comfy, you slowly drift off pondering what you'll say to your dad when you see him again.

                                            >Probably open with something like "I went to Anon's like you said, why are you mad?"

                                            >You snicker at the idea.


                                            >You're back at the creek behind grandma's house.

                                            >You hurry along it, splashing through the little stream of water until you reach the hollow.

                                            >He's there waiting for you, pants rolled up past his knees.

                                            >He smiles.

                                            >"Hey Gilda!"

                                            >You rush over to him, punching him on the shoulder.

                                            "How come you weren't here last week? It was boring!"

                                            >He grumbles as he rubs his shoulder.

                                            >"Mom and Dad were busy, so I had to stay home. I got to a new dungeon on Zelda, though!"

                                            "Neeerrrrrrd. Come on, I found a cave down by the river last week. I wanna go in."

                                            >You grab his wrist and drag him along.

                                            >He's heavier than you are and could resist if he wanted, but he just jogs along behind you.

                                            >"I dunno, Gil. It might be dangerous."

                                            "Pffft. More like you're scared of the dark."

                                            >"Nuh-uh."

                                            "Are too!"

                                            >"I'm in fifth grade, there's no way I'm scared of the dark. I bet there's snakes in there, though."

                                            >You flinch at the thought, but whip your head around to glare at him as he snickers.

                                            "I-I'm not scared."

                                            >"Didn't say you were, scaredy-cat."

                                            "Shut up!"

                                            >You run even faster. Even though he's older than you are, your grip on his wrist is all that keeps him with you.

                                            >"Hey, slow down!"

                                            "Nope!"

                                            >You grab a stick off the creek bed as you pass, pointing with it as you sprint.

                                            "We're going exploring!"

                                            >You scale the side of the creek bed, barrel through a field of tall grass, dodge around the trunk of a dead oak, and arrive at the riverside.

                                            >You never remembered the name of the river. It was big, though. Other people would sometimes go by on fishing boats or rafts or tubes or whatever. Grandma always got real mad when anybody tried to come on her part of the bank.

                                            >You drag the boy down into the shallows with you, down towards the cave mouth.

                                            >"Wait, hang on."

                                            >He breaks your grip on his wrist. You're about to punch him in the shoulder and call him a baby when he reaches down below the water, pulling up a stick of his own.

                                            >"Alright, now let's go."

                                            >He rests the dripping length of wood on his shoulder, striding over to the cave.

                                            >You run after him and punch him on the back.

                                            "Quit trying to act cool. I'll go first."

                                            >"Nope. Big kids go first."

                                            "More like big kids go worst."

                                            >He snorts.

                                            >"Let's go together, then."

                                            >He grabs your hand and leads you inside.

                                            >You get the fluttering feeling in your guts. It only happens when he holds your hand. You don't really get it.

                                            >The both of you poke around inside the cave mouth. It's too dark to see much.

                                            >Anon holds his stick in front of him, prodding at the shadows, and you keep your eyes peeled for snakes.

                                            >There's a loud, abrupt hissing noise, and you shriek, laying about you with your stick.

                                            >Anon laughs until a stray swing catches him in the shin, and then he's shouting.

                                            >"Gil, stop it! Nothing's here!"

                                            "How would you know?! I just heard a snake!"

                                            >"That was me, dummy!"

                                            >You snarl, punching him on the leg.

                                            "Take that, jerkface!"

                                            >Anon laughs, running out of the cave.

                                            >"Gonna leave you in there with the snakes!"

                                            "There were never any snakes, were there?! Get back here!"

                                            >You drop your stick and chase after him, the uneven floor of the cave barely slowing you down.

                                            >You leap onto his back, pulling at his hair.

                                            "Stupid nerd! Did you say all that just to scare me?!"

                                            >"So you WERE scared!"

                                            "NO!"

                                            >You both struggle for a while until he falls onto his hands and knees, with your arms and legs wrapped around him.

                                            >"Leggo, you're heavy!"

                                            "You're just weak! And I'm not letting go until you carry me back!"

                                            >"My leg hurts!"

                                            "You deserve it, dweeb!"

                                            >He grumbles, but eventually gives up when he realizes he can't shake you off of him.

                                            >"Fine, scaredy-cat. I'll carry you."

                                            >You laugh happily while he slowly rises to his feet, taking laborious steps out of the river and up the bank.

                                            >You like the feeling this gives you. It's not the same as holding hands. This is more of a warm feeling. It makes you feel safe.

                                            "You used to carry me all the time. How come you got so weak?"

                                            >"I didn't, dork. You got bigger."

                                            "So get stronger."

                                            >"I will, if I have to carry your butt around everywhere."

                                            "Are you calling me fat?!"

                                            >You argue and bicker all the way back up the hill to grandma's house.

                                            >He doesn't let go of you until he reaches the back porch, where all the adults and big kids are.

                                            >"Anon! What happened to your leg?"

                                            >His mom comes over as he lets you down off his back.

                                            >You finally get a look at where you hit him earlier.

                                            >There's a large, dark bruise on the front of his shin. You feel bad looking at it.

                                            >He's a big dweeb for scaring you, but you didn't mean to hurt him...

                                            >You make eye contact with him for a moment, but he just smiles at you before he responds.

                                            >"I fell in the river and hit my leg on a rock, Mom."

                                            >"What have I told you about playing down there without someone watching you?"

                                            >His mom fusses over him. You stay close too, helping press the ice pack against his shin while he sits on a folding chair.

                                            >You stare sullenly at the deck's floorboards until you feel him tap you on the shoulder.

                                            >You look up to see him smiling at you again. He whispers in your ear.

                                            >"It's okay. I forgive you."

                                            >Your heart feels weird.


                                            >You awaken to the sounds of somebody using the kitchen, and open your eyes to find yourself clinging to a pillow.

                                            >You lurch out of bed and stretch your back as you peek out the door.

                                            >There's Anon, making you breakfast. A sight you'll never get tired of seeing.

                                            >You creep silently across the room until you get close enough to grab his shoulders.

                                            "Boo!"

                                            >"FUCK!"

                                            >He jumps, whirling around to see you.

                                            >He snorts, giving you a shove on the shoulder before turning back to the food.

                                            >You laugh as he growls at you.

                                            >"You're lucky I didn't have a knife in my hand."

                                            >You stand next to him as he works, sneaking an arm around his waist.

                                            >He glances at you, but doesn't say anything. Nice.

                                            "Do you have to work today?"

                                            >"Yep. I work most weekdays, but I think I got Friday off this week."

                                            >It bums you out to think he'll be gone all night again, but at least you have a few hours with him.

                                            "Are we going back to the gym?"

                                            >"Yep. I usually go two days in a row then take a rest."

                                            >Fuck yes. That sounds like a routine you can get behind. Maybe when he finally has a night off, you can convince him to do something fun with you.


                                            >You're the chef of the house, so you must be Anon.

                                            >Gil scared the bejeezus out of you earlier, but you'll never admit it.

                                            >Ever.

                                            >You both devour your food with the usual gusto before getting changed into gym clothes.

                                            >You'd been thinking about getting her some exercise shorts or something, but she seems fine with your sweatpants, and that saves you money, so you guess it's fine.

                                            >The car ride to the gym happens in comfortable silence.

                                            >You can tell Gil is thinking about something, but you also know better than to bug her about it.

                                            >She'll talk when she's ready.

                                            >As you weave through the rows in the gym parking lot looking for a space, she jabs you with an elbow.

                                            >"There. On the left."

                                            "Nice. Thanks."

                                            >"What are we training today?"

                                            "Legs. I was also thinking we could..."

                                            >You sigh.

                                            "...we could do some cardio today."

                                            >Gilda chuckles.

                                            >"Wow. Real enthusiastic there."

                                            "I've been slacking on it. I know better than to think I can keep up with you but having you there will at least keep me motivated."

                                            >"I'll whip you into shape, nerd. Don't worry."

                                            >You can already tell you're going to regret this. But wrestlers need cardio too, and nobody does cardio like Gilda.

                                            >You both walk into the gym and you duck into the men's locker room to lock your bag up before meeting her in the weight room.

                                            >The squat rack. An elegant station. Where true men go to test themselves. And where a lot of motherfuckers choose to curl, unfortunately.

                                            >There's one such miscreant in there now. Fortunately, the rest of them are empty, so you and Gilda can claim the rack furthest away.

                                            >You adjust the rack to her height since she’s a little shorter than you.

                                            >She pipes up as you get under the bar for warm-up.

                                            >”You wanna make a bet?”

                                            >You feign disinterest.

                                            “What kind of bet?”

                                            >”I outlift you, I get something from you.”

                                            >You snort as you descend into your first repetition.

                                            “You’re supposed to give yourself a chance to win, Gil.”

                                            >You can hear the sneer in her voice even though you can’t see her.

                                            >”Oh, I can win.”

                                            “Putting that adorable overconfidence aside, what do I get when I win?”

                                            >”S-Something from me. Whatever you want.”

                                            >Not a safe thing to be offering. What’s her angle? What’s she going to ask you for?

                                            >You finish your warm-up and rack it, turning around to look at her.

                                            >Arms crossed over her chest, head slightly angled away, cheeks flushed, giving you a one-eyed leer.

                                            >You cross your arms too. The standoff continues for a couple seconds.

                                            “You realize I could turn you into a maid, right?”

                                            >”Pffft. You’re into that?”

                                            “No, I-”

                                            >”Bit quick to answer there.”

                                            “Fuck off. I’m into not having to clean, and if you’re gonna be my long-term roommate, then you’re bound to start doing some chores sooner or later. Why not tonight?”

                                            >You sneer.

                                            “Could buy you a frilly outfit to do them in if you want, though.”

                                            >Gilda sneers right back.

                                            >”That’s totally your fetish. Don’t lie.”

                                            “It’s cute how you think that counts as a fetish. But I didn’t hear a ‘no,’ so consider your fate sealed.”

                                            >”I’m almost gonna feel bad about beating you, now. You seem so happy about this.”

                                            “Big words. Well, go on! Name this lift you’re so confident in. Let’s do it.”

                                            >Gilda’s smile is wide as she smugly utters the words.

                                            >”Pistol squats.”

                                            >…Fuck.

                                            >FUCK.

                                            “That’s not a lift, that’s-!”

                                            >”Uh, yes it is. And it doesn’t matter anyway! I say that what’s we’re competing in!”

                                            >You’re fucked. You can’t do one of those, and you’re kind of amazed that Gilda apparently can.

                                            >You grimace as Gilda snickers, gesturing mockingly to the open floor.

                                            >”Well, come on. Let’s do it right now. So you don’t get to say you were too spent from weights to do it, or whatever.”

                                            >Shiiiiiit.

                                            >You try to psych yourself up. Maybe you can force yourself through one. There’s no way Gilda can do more than one either. It’s just a one-legged squat, Anon. You do two-legged squats all the time. Just drop down and do it. You got strong legs, right?

                                            >You awkwardly stance yourself up, one leg directly beneath you with the other pushed out in front.

                                            >You sink down, throwing your hips back.

                                            >You hiss as the all the weight of your body falls onto a single leg.

                                            >Straining and muttering curses, you try to get all the way down. Your muscles feel like they’re burning.

                                            >With shuddering, jerky motions, you come to rest only to topple over.

                                            >You spring to your feet as if standing up fast enough will erase the failure. Gilda has the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen plastered on her face.

                                            >”Ya hate to see it.”

                                            “Aw, shut up! You do it!”

                                            >Gilda laughs, moving to stand where you stood a moment ago.

                                            >In one clean, smooth movement, she swings one leg out and descends with the other, holding her arms out in front of her for counterbalance.

                                            >She bottoms out, only one of her limbs touching the ground, and drives back up in the span of a single breath. Just to drive the point home, she repeats the process with her other leg.

                                            >You watch in silent awe.

                                            >With the contest over and the bet won, she grins at you.

                                            >You heave a sigh.

                                            “You win, Gil. I’m impressed.”

                                            >She laughs, closing in to hit you with a light jab to the ribs.

                                            >”Damn right. So…”

                                            >She leans in, putting a finger on your chin.

                                            >”About that frilly outfit…”

                                            >The color drains from your face.

                                            “No! Come on! I- I was just-“

                                            >She lets you stammer, plead and threaten for a good minute before finally moving the finger over your lips.

                                            >”Anon, I was just kidding. You might be into that, but I’m not. I got something better in mind anyway.”