summary: emilie and gabriel come to terms with their feelings for nathalie
notes: (and then they do absolutely shit with it.) title is from the song 'tayo lang ang may alam' by peryodiko which translates to 'we're the only ones who know' and well!!!! thats a thing!!!! let me have my tagalog titles
words: 730
Emilie shifts under Gabriel’s intense gaze, fidgeting as her senses leave her in the dust. She can feel the beating of her heart, deafening against the eerie silence that has enveloped them both.
“Is it wrong to feel this way?” Gabriel murmurs, hands gripping the hem of Emilie’s skirt.
They’re sitting on a bench, by the oval they would run during the morning. That day, they have opted to forgo running. Their knees touch, and something electric jolts between Gabriel’s spine. He straightens and lets go, just as Emilie shuffles away, putting space between them.
“It isn’t wrong,” she said slowly, carefully, though her hands have begun wringing themselves, and her thoughts have begun jumping all over the place. “I didn’t think to ever hear it from you though.”
“You always say that,” Gabriel intones suddenly, staring at his lap. “You say that every time I surprise you.”
“Because everything you do is surprising,” Emilie counters just as quickly, facing her friend— or is it more than a friend, because the lines are blurring too much for her to distinguish anything. “You do things that I would’ve never expected for you to do. It’s refreshing, to always be caught unaware, to be honest.”
The smile that Gabriel glimpses on Emilie’s face, small and yet sincere, sends him metaphorically tumbling down.
“And, to be honest,” Emilie starts, holding onto Gabriel’s hands, “I feel the same. So, it’s not just you.”
There’s something so freeing about saying those exact words. She feels the same. That she’s in the same boat as him. Gabriel’s eyes light up, an uncharacteristic show of happiness that Emilie drinks in until she’s so full of it.
They are silent for what feels like years, listing down their thoughts, thunderous in their minds. They both know what they’re thinking now, from the declaration that came unbidden from Emilie’s lips.
“How do we tell her?”
“Do we?” Gabriel closes the distance between them, resting his forehead on Emilie’s own. Any other day, she would be stuttering and red from the proximity, blushing with affection for the boy in front of her.
Now, she only lets out a shaky breath. Her eyes close at the exhale.
“We have to, it’s only fair to her.”
&&
The days pass without incident or fanfare. Emilie and Gabriel have yet to tell Nathalie what they feel and Nathalie has never felt more alone in her life.
Their class begins to notice the sudden wall built between the three.
Emilie and Gabriel have cordoned one side of the room for themselves, huddled together with their heads down. Their whispers are too soft to catch that even the most perceptive of their class has the hardest time hearing them.
It helps no one that they are sat beside each other.
Nathalie has been sitting in her chair for the past few minutes, poring over homework that isn’t due until next week. It’s obvious to everyone that she’s distracting herself and she thinks it’s a reason enough for her not to go near Gabriel and Emilie.
It is maddening to see them stack those figurative walls around each other. No one knows why Gabriel and Emilie have separated themselves from Nathalie, and however much they want to ask, all they get are strained smiles (from Emilie) or irritated one-word answers (from Gabriel).
The realization that something must have happened with her friends spur Nathalie away. Something has changed. They are closer now— feather-like touches and silent but meaningful conversations exchanged through smiles and stares. Nathalie notices, because she has yet to drag her gaze away from the both of them for too long to miss the little things.
There is something more now, beneath the cherry red staining Emilie’s cheeks or the quaking in Gabriel’s voice.
There is something different now, whenever Emilie moves to Gabriel’s side, looping her hands over his and dragging him away, or when Gabriel flashes a seething glare at their classmates for blatantly eyeing Emilie as she walks with her head held high.
There is something she’s afraid to name now, as she watches them avoid her like the plague, heads bowed and lips pursed, like they are afraid of her, or they are wary of her presence.
Of what, Nathalie muses, she doesn’t yet know. She is equally afraid, and just as they avoid her, she has opted to avoid them.
