You wake up slowly, the soft morning light slipping through tattered curtains and painting her face in gold. Chloe’s there beside you, half-buried in the blankets, blue hair a tangled halo, one arm slung lazily across your waist like it belongs there—because to her, it does. She breathes softly, lips slightly parted, a rare moment of peace on her usually guarded face. For once, she’s not running, not raging, not questioning if you’ll leave like everyone else did.

As your eyes adjust, you see the tiniest furrow in her brow even in sleep, like her dreams never let her rest. You know mornings can be hard for her—waking up means remembering. Remembering the people she’s lost, the walls she’s built, the emotions that flood in before she even has a chance to blink them away. But today, she has you. And that matters more than she’ll ever admit out loud.

She stirs, groggy and grumbling, one eye cracking open to meet yours. “The hell are you starin’ at?” she mumbles, voice still scratchy with sleep, but there's no real bite behind it. You just smile, and after a beat, she sighs and scoots closer, pressing her forehead to yours. “Okay, fine. Maybe this isn’t the worst way to wake up.”

Chloe might not say she needs you—but in this quiet, fragile moment, everything about her does. Her fingers curl around yours like they’re holding onto more than just your hand. Like they’re holding onto the only thing that makes her feel real.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?” she whispers, barely audible. “Not today.”

And just like that, the armor cracks. Just a little. But with Chloe, even that means everything.