Attachment
Cici evaluates her feelings for Tycho.
It occurs to Cici that Tycho might not like girls.
She’s never really thought about it, to be honest. But now, alone in her dorm room at 1:30am, it dawns on her that he’s only ever exhibited any attraction to…Bass. Cici assumed it was some sort of celebrity crush when she first met him; the way she saw his knees quiver and his face break into an uncontrollable grin were simply the product of some starstruck idolisation. It has only sunk in recently that the janitor truly is in love - and something about it makes Cici’s stomach turn.
She doesn’t even know if it particularly matters that it’s Bass.
They had skipped work that afternoon; not like anyone would miss her. Tycho had burst in, tripping over his words as he told her about the new flavour of ice cream he’d heard about (from one of the lab boys, apparently) and how they just had to go try it together. He had grabbed Cici’s hand even as it lay on her mouse - the racing of her heart was chalked up to surprise in the instant. Far too easily, she let herself be dragged from her office and out to the cafeteria. He could’ve dragged her straight into hell and she wouldn’t have put up a fight.
“Go on, bite it. I dare you.”
“Wh— Tycho. You know I can’t—”
“Go onnnn! You can! C’mon, Cici, it’s good!”
“…Tycho,”
“For meeee?”
God damn him. She spent five minutes nursing that brain freeze.
…It made him laugh, though.
They had brought the last bit of their dessert back with them to Cici’s office, the security technician still nursing her left temple when they arrived. Like always, she had invited them in. He declined too politely.
Swooning, he said something about sharing what he had left and clumsily sauntered off in the direction of the elevator, the last Cici had seen of him today.
She remembers she is just something he uses to pass the time.
She lurches in bed as acid and cream rise from her gullet.
After forcing herself to swallow, she turns over, cocooning herself in blankets. Her right hand finds its way under her pillow, where her phone sits. The idea of texting him crosses her mind, but…
…the thought never reaches completion as her hand withdraws from beneath the pillow.
Cici takes a deep breath, trying to push away the unease bubbling up within her. She reprimands herself in the usual way for being so selfish, so entitled…it doesn’t matter if Tycho is interested in her or not. He’s still her friend, and that’s all that should matter to her. She should be grateful.
She should be grateful that she is but one of his many friends. His many, many friends, that she could easily be replaced by if she ever—
A wave of panic rushes through her. Something catches in her throat. She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe.
Before she realises what’s happening, tears are streaming down her face. She curls into a ball, trying to smother the sobs that are threatening to escape. Each pang of anxiety reminds her that the only person she’s loved in what feels like years cares for no one but their shitty, shitty boss. Their shitty boss who hates him. Who wouldn’t in a million years treat Tycho anywhere close to what he deserves.
She’s going to fucking kill him one of these days.
Her phone buzzes under her pillow. She ignores it.