Something Like Wanting

Posted on Thu Jul 3rd, 2025 @ 4:31am by Petty Officer 2nd Class Sofia Cipriani

533 words; about a 3 minute read

Alright. I need to say this out loud because it's been sitting in my chest all day and I can't focus on anything.

I think I really like Gaagii.

Not just in a “he’s nice to me” way, though he is. It’s… more. It's the way he talks, like every word matters. It’s how he watches the room without saying much but somehow still sees everything. And yeah, okay, it’s also the way he looks — I mean, have you seen him?

That long black hair… those eyes… the way he moves, like he's carved out of stillness and strength at the same time. And when he touches me — even just lightly — it’s like the rest of the world quiets. It makes me feel... I don’t know… steady. And wanted. Which is terrifying and addictive.

But — but — he's older. And not just in a “he’s got a couple years on me” way. I’m twenty. He’s… what, mid-thirties? That’s a whole life I haven’t lived yet.

And he’s a Marine. A proper, decorated, war-paint-wearing, silently-deadly, carries-a-tomahawk Marine. Mama would absolutely explode. She already thinks I’m too soft for Starfleet, let alone dating someone who could break a man’s spine with one hand. Papa might’ve liked him, I think — respected him, maybe — but Mama? My brothers? I can already hear the shouting.
“You’re too young!”
“He’s using you!”
“You don’t even know what kind of man he is!”

And the worst part is — what if they’re right?

What if he is just… entertained? I mean, I know I’m not the most experienced person on this ship. I blush too easily. I ramble when I’m nervous. I drink fruity drinks with umbrellas in them. Maybe he’s just being kind because I’m young and dumb enough to fall for a strong jawline and gentle words.

Marines have a reputation. I’ve heard the stories. Charm you out of your uniform and forget your name by morning. I should know better. I do know better.

But he’s not like that. He isn’t. I’ve seen him talk to people who outrank him like they’re old friends, and hold a conversation with someone’s eyes instead of their rank pips. And when I cried — really cried — he didn’t flinch or roll his eyes or try to fix it. He just held me.

He held me like it mattered. Like I mattered.

And I can’t stop thinking about him. Not just about how he looks — though believe me, that’s definitely part of it — but about him. His voice, the calm way he talks about spirit guides, his sense of honour, the way he listens like silence is sacred.

I’m scared. I don’t want to be someone’s distraction. I don’t want to be a phase. But I also don’t want to run from something that could actually mean something.

So yeah… I like him. Probably more than I should.

And I’m trying really hard not to fall too fast.

Computer… save and encrypt personal log. End entry.

 

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