Sculpted Love
The ringing sound of Chloe’s alarm sliced through the quiet morning, pulling her from the warmth of sleep and urging her into action. She hated her morning runs, but they were necessary—keeping her fit, sharp, and giving her some much-needed focus. With a groan, she rolled out of bed, careful not to wake the girl curled up next to her.
Red lay nestled into the covers, soft and peaceful. Chloe paused for a moment, letting her gaze linger on her, but the pull of the run tugged at her. Still, the guilt lingered—knowing how much Red hated mornings, how much she cherished their prized cuddle time together.
Before Chloe could slip away completely, a soft voice broke the silence. “Can you skip your run for at least one day?” Red mumbled, barely awake but with a quiet plea in her tone.
Chloe smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Red’s face. "Shhhh, go back to sleep," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Red’s forehead. “I’ll make you breakfast when I’m back,” she added softly, wanting to soften the sting of her leaving.
But Red wasn’t about to let her off the hook. She tugged Chloe closer, pressing her lips to Chloe’s in a slow, tender kiss. Their breaths mingled in the stillness of the room, the intimacy of the moment pulling Chloe into its warmth. It was always hard to pull away after moments like this, but Chloe knew she had to.
Reluctantly, Chloe pulled away, sitting up and slipping out of bed. The cool air hit her skin, making her shiver as she moved toward the closet. The motions were second nature by now—open the door, grab the clothes, slip into the routine of it all.
Red’s gaze followed her from the bed, and Chloe could feel it, even without looking. She didn’t mind. It wasn’t about shame—it was the quiet comfort of knowing they both understood each other in these small, shared moments.
She dressed quickly, pulling on her running shoes—Red’s, actually, but they shared the same size. It didn’t matter. It was just another one of those small perks of their relationship. Chloe wasn’t the sporty one. She didn’t share Red’s love for rough competition, but she appreciated the discipline that came with her own workout. Fencing was more her style—an elegant dance with a sword in hand. It was where she excelled, while Red thrived on the energy of physicality, dominating the pitch with strength and speed.
“I’d rather have you here than breakfast, you know,” Red mumbled, her voice sleepy but affectionate as she stretched beneath the covers.
Chloe smiled, her heart warmed by the simplicity of the words. “I know, baby,” she whispered. “You can have both. I’ll make your breakfast when I’m back.”
Chloe brushed her hand across Red’s cheek, letting her fingers linger as the quiet between them enveloped them both. The peaceful silence lasted only until Chloe’s alarm rang again, signaling the start of her run. She pulled away from the bed, reluctant but resolute, leaning down to press one more kiss to Red’s forehead.
The motions of getting ready for her run were automatic. She reached for her running gear, lacing up her shoes—Red’s shoes, but they were the same size. Chloe smiled to herself as she did, comforted by the familiar routine. It wasn’t just about the clothes or shoes. It was the small, unspoken moments that connected them, making everything feel right.
Chloe wasn’t the powerhouse that Red was. Red thrived on speed and strength, pushing herself to the limit. Chloe, on the other hand, had her own kind of strength—quiet, precise, and calculated. Fencing was where she excelled—tactical, deliberate, and refined. They balanced each other, their contrasting strengths complementing one another perfectly.
As she stood up and glanced back at Red, still curled under the covers, Chloe felt the familiar weight of Red’s gaze. There was something about it—the way Red made her feel seen without saying a word. Chloe soaked in the moment for a beat, savoring the quiet before heading out.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Chloe promised softly.
Red’s voice floated from beneath the sheets, teasing but genuine. “I’ll just eat breakfast before you.”
Chloe grinned, her heart fluttering as she stepped toward the door. “Now, go back to sleep,” she said with a wink, before closing the door behind her.
She stepped out into the crisp morning air, the familiar rhythm of the run grounding her. But even as she ran through the streets, her thoughts kept drifting back to Red—their quiet mornings together, the small things that connected them.
When Chloe returned, bags in hand, her focus was on making something special for Red—French toast. It had come up in passing during a conversation a while ago, and Chloe had stored the detail away. French toast was one of Red's comfort foods, and Chloe had learned that it was one of the few dishes Red knew how to make—having grown up with a deep-seated fear of her mother’s cooking. The memory had stuck with Chloe, and when she’d heard Red’s story, it became clear to her that Red needed someone to care for her in these small, meaningful ways.
Chloe had asked Bridget, an excellent cook, to teach her how to make it. What started as a way to learn a new skill quickly turned into a personal mission to care for Red in a way she hadn’t before. It might not have seemed like much, but for Red, it would mean everything. Even though her first attempts had been disastrous, the thought of making it for Red—of feeding her and showing how much she cared—kept her going.
As she worked, her thoughts drifted to her roommates, Ella and Bridget. Ella had fallen hopelessly in love with Bridget, though Bridget never seemed to notice. It was a quiet kind of love, the kind that didn’t demand attention but still burned brightly. Meanwhile, Bridget had her sights set on Charming, the guy who could charm anyone effortlessly—except Ella, who longed for something more. Charming, despite his flirtations with everyone else, was head over heels for Ella, but he never seemed to have the courage to admit it. It was a messy, tangled triangle, full of unspoken words and half-finished feelings. Watching from the sidelines, Chloe couldn’t help but feel like she was witnessing something both heartbreaking and beautiful, like a recipe gone wrong, where no one knew how to fix it, but everyone kept trying.
Her focus on the stove was interrupted as soft fingers slid around her waist, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“It smells good,” Red’s voice murmured, her breath warm against Chloe’s neck.
Chloe chuckled, the comfort of Red’s touch filling her with warmth. “Can you grab the milk for Cheshire? I’m almost done here.”
Red’s voice softened with affection. “Of course, whatever you want, Princess.”
Chloe laughed, her heart fluttering at the familiar nickname. It had started as playful teasing, but now, there was something tender about the way Red said it. Chloe had always been the one to take care of Red, to be her protector. But now, Red called her “Princess” with such softness that it made Chloe’s chest tighten. It was sweet in a way that felt both new and familiar.
Red pulled her hands away from Chloe’s waist, leaving behind the faintest trace of warmth, a reminder of the touch that lingered just a moment longer.
“You’re impossible,” Chloe teased, nudging Red playfully.
“I know,” Red grinned, her hands resting lightly on Chloe’s waist for a second longer before she moved to grab the milk for the waiting cat. “But just possible enough for you.”
Chloe smiled, her cheeks flushed, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions. She quickly turned back to the stove, focusing on finishing the meal. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t matter. This small gesture—making something simple but meaningful for Red—was exactly what Chloe needed it to be. And even if the dish didn’t turn out flawlessly, bringing shame to her French lineage, it was the thought, the love behind it, that made it perfect.
Red eagerly dug into her food, a satisfied hum escaping her lips after the first bite. “This is sooo good,” she murmured, her eyes lighting up. “Definitely needed this after all that cardio last night.”
Chloe chuckled, absentmindedly stroking Cheshire as he curled up beside her. “Glad to hear it,” she replied, watching Red enjoy the meal with a warm feeling spreading through her chest.
Red continued eating, but Chloe noticed a few crumbs and bits of food beginning to get caught in her hair. She let out a soft laugh. “You’re getting food in your hair, Rose,” Chloe teased, making her way to Red’s side.
Red glanced up at her, mouth full. “Hey, I’m starving. Don’t judge.”
Chloe shook her head, smiling as she gently tied Red’s hair back into a loose ponytail. “You’ll need it. We have gym, and you’ve got practice after school.”
Red groaned, her playful irritation clear. “Ugh, I have practice every day. Coach is way too insistent on training when he knows I’m the star player anyway.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a teasing smile. “For someone who does so much sport, I’m wondering how you have such bad stamina.”
Red stopped eating, her eyes widening as she slapped Chloe’s arm. “Hey, that’s mean!”
Chloe laughed, holding up her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”
Red huffed but couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re mean.”
Chloe got up from the table, walking toward the door. “I’ll be in the art room since our club's exhibit is coming up soon.”
Red’s face lit up at the mention of the exhibit. “Oh yeah, I was sculpting something a couple of days ago before I got distracted by someone barging in. I really need to finish that.”
Chloe smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Right, not like you love me or anything.” She raised an eyebrow, teasing.
Red rolled her eyes with a grin. “I do love you, but that doesn’t mean you can distract me from my art.”
Chloe chuckled, pushing off the doorframe. “It’s a date. After practice, we’ll finish our art for the exhibit showcase.”
Red smiled softly. “I’ll hold you to that.”