Two days later, Gally has once again managed to injure himself in some form of context involving Ash.
First, it had been slicing open his palm while cutting wood to build her bedroom. Second, it had been bruising his knuckles on Josh's face when the kid had assaulted her. Now, he's fallen off the roof of the Medjack hut after she'd asked him to help her fix a leak.
She clearly feels awful, apologizing over and over again as she wraps his ankle up. It's only sprained, not broken, and he should be fine within a week or two, but in the meantime he can't really do much work around the Glade.
He spends most of his time in his hammock, bad ankle propped up on an extra pillow they'd had laying around. Gally isn't really a fan of the situation, having always been one to enjoy his work. However, he can't deny how nice it is that Ash keeps coming over to check on him throughout each day.
It's more than he usually gets to see her.
"I really am sorry," she says one evening, after bringing him dinner and deciding to sit with him to eat.
"It's not your fault," Gally says, mouth full of food. "How many times do I have to tell you that?" A small chunk of meat dribbles out, and he just barely manages to catch it with his spoon. Ash tries not to laugh.
"I'm the one who asked you to go up there," she says, trying to stay serious.
"Yeah, because I'm a Builder, and fixing things is my job," Gally retorts, once he's swallowed his food. She looks at him for a moment, quiet, before sighing and going back to her own.
"Still," she mumbles half-heartedly.
"If you're only here because you feel guilty, you don't need to be," Gally snaps, suddenly feeling on edge. "Same goes for pity."
"I may feel guilty, but that's not the only reason I'm here," she says waspishly, her brows furrowing. "And I certainly don't pity you." She stands abruptly, snatching Gally's empty dinner bowl from his hands, and storms off.
He squirms in his hammock, torn between frustration and guilt. He knows he shouldn't have snapped at her. There was just something about the way she wouldn't stop apologizing, the way she seemed to baby him, almost. It had been driving him nuts.
If she's going to hang out with him while he's technically bed-ridden (on her orders!), he wants it to be because she wants to. Not because she feels obligated to.
She doesn't come back that evening. He sees her walk past the Homestead, heading toward her room, but she doesn't stop to say goodnight like she normally has. The guilt begins to settle over Gally, and it doesn't help when Newt gives him a knowing look, crawling into the next hammock over.
"What'd you say to her?" he asks, but Gally just glares at him before carefully turning over.
The next morning, Ash isn't the one to bring Gally breakfast— George is.
"You must've said something really stupid last night," he comments, handing the plate of eggs and toast to Gally, who glares at him.
"Shut up," he mutters, reluctantly taking the plate and starting to eat.
"You should tell her," George says casually, sitting on Newt's hammock.
Gally rolls his eyes. "Tell her what? That I'm sorry? I think I've heard that word enough the last week, coming from her."
"Well, that too," George allows, "but I was talking about the fact that you clearly have feelings for her."
Gally nearly chokes on his eggs, and splutters for a moment. "What are you talking about?!"
Now it's George's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, come on, Gally. It's obvious to everyone here but her. Sometimes you get all gooey around her. Kinda gross, actually— and don't even get me started on that whole thing with Josh."
"You're full of klunk," Gally grumbles, passing his half-full plate back to George, who rolls his eyes again and starts to walk away.
"Just think about it, 'kay, Gally?" he calls over his shoulder. "The rest of us would actually really appreciate it, you know."
Crossing his arms, Gally decides to try and get some extra sleep. His dreams are full of her, some happy and some angry or sad or in pain. At some point he dreams that her arms are wrapped around his neck, her face only inches from his, her brown eyes sparkling in the light of a bonfire, and she's laughing at something he's said. He can feel his own arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.
Just as he begins to close the gap to kiss her, he's woken quite abruptly by thunder.
Several boys start piling into the Homestead, as the sound of rain surrounds them. George and Alby are among them, and the former gives him a knowing look, which gets returned with a fierce glare.
A whine drifts up from under Gally's hammock, and he carefully peers over the side. Nellie's curled up below him, hiding her nose beneath her front paws as another round of thunder shakes the Homestead. He sighs, leaning back in his hammock.
The sight of the dog reminds him of Ash, of course. The pair are nearly inseparable, unless Frypan's around.
Gally allows himself to consider George's words from before, comparing them to his own dreams. His heart tugs at the memory of seeing Ash crying in one of them, absolutely devastated by something. His stomach twists when he remembers how close he'd been to kissing her in the last dream, how she'd been encouraging him. He doubts she'd be that encouraging in real life, especially now that he's gone and pissed her off.
God, he really is an idiot, isn't he?
Sighing, Gally sits up and grabs the crutch one of the other Builders had made for him. Ash had given him strict instructions that it was only to help him get to the bathroom, or for emergencies. No casual strolls.
He thinks this is important enough to qualify as an emergency. He hobbles toward George, waiting by the door for the storm to pass.
"Where is she?" he grunts, keeping his weight on the crutch and his good foot.
George looks at him, surprised. "Are you allowed to be up and about?" he asks, and Gally just gives him a look before George caves and answers. "Medjack hut," he says. "She's been there all morning— even before most of us woke up."
Before anyone can stop him, Gally makes his way out the door and across the Glade. Sure enough, she's in the Medjack hut, reorganizing the drawers without looking too focused or even invested in it. Gally carefully crosses the threshold, closing the door behind him.
He's soaked to the bone already, and his arm is a bit sore from the crutch. Ash turns, her dark eyes going wide as she takes in his sudden appearance.
"What are you doing here?" she fusses, ushering him to sit on one of the cots. She grabs a blanket and starts to wrap it around him, but hesitates when she sees him shivering, his teeth just beginning to chatter.
"What?" he asks, seeing her bite her lip. He has to force himself to focus.
She sighs. "You're soaked and freezing... the blanket won't really help unless..." He simply looks at her, waiting. She sighs again, her cheeks starting to turn pink. "You'll have to take off your wet clothes..."
He blinks at her, not quite sure what to say.
"Your shirt, at least," she amends. "Otherwise you'll just soak the blanket and not get warm."
"I— okay," he mumbles. This isn't exactly how he'd pictured this conversation going, on his way over here. He lays the crutch on the cot, then goes to take his shirt off. The wet fabric catches against his skin a bit, but otherwise comes off easily.
Ash barely glances at him as she hands him the blanket. Wrapping it around himself, he tries not to dwell on that— does she really find him that ugly? Sure, he's got some scars from building accidents, and a few that he's had for as long as he can remember, the only clues he has about his life before the Glade... but he's never felt self-conscious about how he looks under his shirt until now.
"What are you doing here?" she asks again, crossing her arms across her chest, and Gally forces himself out of his thoughts once again.
"I wanted to say... I'm sorry," he says. "About last night. What I said was... it was unfair to you. I had no right to say it."
She regards him carefully, clearly trying to figure out if he's being sincere— which he is. More than he's been about anything else in his memory. She seems to realize that, and sighs as she moves his crutch to sit with him, leaning into his side. Every inch she touches, despite the blanket between them, feels like it's on fire.
He doesn't want it to end.
"I'm sorry too," she admits. "For my reaction... I've been thinking about it, and I know you're probably frustrated, being stuck in your hammock all day. But, I want you to know... I wasn't spending all that time with you just because I felt guilty." She pauses, fidgeting with her hands, like she always does when she's anxious about something.
"You're my friend, Gally," she says softly. "One of my best friends. I care about you, you know? I would've stuck around even if I'd had nothing to do with your injury."
Gally sits quietly, opening and closing his mouth a couple times. Is she saying...?
"I— I'd do the same for any of my friends here," she continues, voice nervous. "Newt, George, Alby, Frypan, Minho... I care about you guys, a lot. You're my family— you're all I have."
"Yeah," he mumbles, internally deflating. Of course she wasn't trying to admit having feelings like that for him. He's just another one of the guys, apparently.
"And we'd do the same for you," he says louder, clearing his throat to help snap himself out of his own thoughts... again.
She lays her head on his arm, and quietly laughs in obvious relief. "Good," she mumbles, before yawning. "Sorry... rain makes me sleepy. I was about two minutes from giving in and taking a nap when you showed up."
Gally laughs, trying to keep his mind off the additional physical contact. "Go for it," he says. "I don't think the storm's gonna go away for a while. I wouldn't be surprised if Alby and the others end up taking a nap over in the Homestead, too."
She smiles trying to imagine it, then sighs. "Are you sure?" she mumbles.
"Go for it," he repeats. "You want a blanket?"
He lifts the edge of his, mostly joking, but she doesn't hesitate to curl into his side, under the blanket. Every inch of Gally's skin feels like it's on fire, even more so than before. She's still covered by her own shirt, of course, but there are a few spots that are now skin-to-skin, like her arms against his chest, or her face on his shoulder. Ash sighs once more, before clearly falling to sleep in his arms.
At least, he hopes she's asleep. He has no doubt that if she isn't, she'd be able to hear how fast and loud his heart is beating. She's smart enough, she'd probably figure out very quickly that his feelings for her aren't quite friends, just like with Newt and Alby and George and Minho.