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Galatea lived for moments like these.

It wasn’t uncommon for her and her girlfriend to sit in comfortable silence like this. It was what they both preferred, and while it didn’t seem like much, they enjoyed it. It was much better than being alone. While they both enjoyed having time to themselves - especially Galatea - they had both had their fair share of being alone throughout their lives, and neither of them wanted that loneliness to continue now that they were dead.

Grace read a book on her girlfriend’s bed whilst the blonde chipped away at a new sculpture on her desk. The room was lit by only a few scented candles, since it was late at night, and they both wanted to embrace the peace of the manor as much as possible when it was available.

The scent of warm vanilla filled the room, as well as the sound of a chisel rhythmically hitting marble. The naiad had tried to ask Galatea what she was working on about an hour ago, but she refused to answer, insisting that it was a surprise. Her sculpted gifts were far from surprises at this point - she was making them in the same room as Grace, after all. But she liked to pretend she was being secretive anyways. Grace let her.

A nearly inaudible yawn could be heard from across the room. Galatea turned and glanced at her partner. “What, you’re getting tired already?” A nod.

Hunters didn’t need to sleep. Galatea couldn’t help but notice how the corner of Grace’s lips turned upwards mischievously.

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m almost done with this sculpture. I guess you’ll just have to go back to your room and see it tomorrow~”

She giggled at Grace’s immediate frown. “Kidding, kidding! However, I will admit - my wrists are getting a little sore. I’ll finish it tomorrow! I promise.” As if her girlfriend would ever think about rushing her.

Romance was uncommon in the manor. A place filled with terrified survivors and supernatural, undead hunters was not a place that exactly sparked love. And yet, Galatea found that she needed Grace. They needed each other. What had started out as a mere friendship quickly morphed into something more, and while they had never officially confessed anything to each other, they both knew.

They knew from the way brushes of skin had become much more purposeful. They knew whenever Grace began spending more time in Galatea’s room than her own. They knew whenever they’d wake up entangled in each other’s arms and pet names became more common than their real ones and they knew whenever they’d greet each other after matches with whispers of admiration and kisses and one day the term girlfriends really just seemed to stick.

Galatea had never considered herself a romantic. Romance was never at the front of her mind. She enjoyed romanticizing her life and pretending her sculptures would ever respond to her words of adoration and telling herself that the new sculpture she was working on would come to life and they would fall in love, but that’s all it was. Pretending.

It was nothing like loving a real person. Real people could hurt you and criticize you and before Grace had arrived at the manor, Galatea had avoided the other residents nearly entirely.

And at first, their friendship scared her. It terrified her. But Grace was everything she loved and needed and more.

If soulmates were real, Galatea had certainly found hers.

She shifted from her wheelchair to her bed, laying next to her girlfriend. Grace’s book had long been discarded, and she immediately nestled into the crook of Galatea’s neck. The shorter woman wrapped her arms around her, and as she did so, Grace kissed her neck sweetly. Galatea held back a laugh at the tickling sensation, but it was far from discreet. The naiad placed a few more, causing her to squirm underneath her, and finally, once the room was filled with laughter and Galatea’s usually pale face was flushed pink, Grace showed mercy, placing a final kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead.

Galatea took a deep breath, still recovering from the attack. She could practically sense Grace’s smile. She wore one of her own.

“I love you,” she whispered. Grace held her just a little more tightly.