The things friends do [November] Gideon rushed back and forth, his leather shoes rustling across the floor, his messenger bag swinging and bumping into the same spot on his thigh over and over again. It didn’t seem to bother him, because he was too bothered by the stress of everything else. Sally could relate. Her time was running out, too.
“I just can’t believe this!” he exclaimed for exactly the seventeenth time (yes, she was counting). Gideon froze exactly where he was, then turned to face her for the first time in several paces. “How could they do this to me?!” Sally simply shrugged, and he resumed his course. This cycle kept repeating itself, as after finding that she could offer her friend no usable solutions, she had somewhat given up on offering any attempts at support. Emotional assistance was not exactly Sally’s talent, and Gideon was too distraught to be soothed by her subpar efforts. So for now, she decided to just let him go until he wore out, and then go fetch him some tea.
But he had yet to wear out. Even despite his usual bounciness, Sally was, admittedly, quite surprised that he’d gone this long. That was how one could tell the seriousness of the situation, she supposed: Gideon refused to wear out or calm down. Thus far, it seemed that she was 0/2 on plans to help him. That was a poor feeling.
“You know my grandmother is doing the same thing to me,” she tried, wondering if plan 3 - empathy - would do any better. “The whole marry someone proper thing.” She was certain she had told Gideon the extent of her situation, and how fast approaching the deadline Grandmother had given her was approaching. It was November now, and Marcus and Melanie’s wedding - the cutoff - was only a month away.
“But you just want to be with the wrong guy,” Gideon countered, too absorbed in his own panic to appreciate her troubles’ similarities. “My parents want to find me a wife! Like, a living, human female I’m supposed to marry!” Gideon shuddered at the thought. Then, all at once, he collapsed to the ground. “I just want Asher. I love him, Sal.”
It had, over the course of the last few months, gotten less weird to hear her friend speak romantically of her brother. Now, her heart only melted for Gideon and Asher’s struggle, as opposed to withdrawing at the wrongness of romantic sentiment aimed to her about her sibling. “I know,” she said weakly. Her arm extended in his direction; from the couch, she was close enough to… to stroke his hair or something. But physical comfort was also not one of her marketable skills, and, unsure, she pulled back without making contact. “I feel exactly the same about Braxton.”
“That’s it!” Gideon’s drooping head shot up, and he clambered to his knee. In his ever-shifting energies, he did not hear the door open. Nor did he hear it shut a moment later. And it was definitely safe to say that he did not hear Braxton’s footsteps as he entered the living room behind him. “Sally,” said Gideon, reaching for her hands. “Will you marry me?”