Chapter Text
Staring at the thirteen flowers in front of her, Chloe can well and truly say that she has no fucking clue what is going on—a common occurrence, it seems, whenever Red is involved.
It all starts innocuously enough. Red is being Red, and she's dancing around their room, singing her heart out to the music blasting from her phone. She's clad in a red crop top and baggy black pants, and well, Chloe is so gay. So sue her for paying close attention to the way the shirt clings to Red's frame, or the way her hips sway to the beat, instead of doing her homework. She's only human, after all.
This also means that when Red asks Chloe to accompany her on a walk, she has to decline, because of that accursed homework. And as much as Chloe loves her best friend, she’s not willing to let her perfect grades slip—and if that means missing out on a walk with the redhead today, so be it. They can always go on an extra walk tomorrow.
With that thought in mind, Chloe watches her walk out the door, eyes drawn to the way those pants hug Red’s waist. And, fuck, what a sight. She can't help it—she's just a girl.
A girl who still has to finish her homework.
So Chloe settles at her desk and dives into a wonderful world of molecular bonding and chemical equations. She hates it, hates chemistry, but she also hates failing. Ergo, she has to succeed, which means she has to study hard. Hard enough that she's still at it when Red comes waltzing back into their room, eyes enchantingly bright and arms held suspiciously behind her back.
Chloe greets her happily as she steps through the door, because of course her concentration is ruined the second Red comes back. Not that she's blaming the princess—she would never—she's just a little miffed that she didn't get the chance to complete Exercise 13 before her brain shuts down at the mere sound of Red's key jingling through the door. It appears that she and her brain are in conflict—Chloe prioritising her homework, and her brain very clearly prioritising the lauded princess of Wonderland.
“What do you have there, Red?" Chloe asks, eyeing the way Red is standing. She's obviously hiding something behind her back. Red flashes Chloe a stunning smile, full, heart shaped red lips and startling white teeth and gods, the blue haired princess can feel her composure melt almost instantaneously. She would sacrifice her kingdom for just one kiss—bye bye, Cinderellasburg, and hello sweet, sweet heaven. Not that she's the crown princess—no, that's Chad, her lovely blond boy—but her point remains. Gods, the things she would do for just a scrap of attention and affection from her best friend.
Clearly, Chloe has not so platonic feelings for her entirely too platonic friend. It's a lifestyle, one she's carefully moulded to perfectly suit her needs. Sure, she's pining like 99% of the time, but at least she's firmly cemented herself into Red's life as the redhead's bestie, her ride or die, and most importantly, her 100% loyal and trustworthy knight. And as Red's bestie, Chloe is automatically guaranteed plenty of affection—cuddles, kisses and even the occasional bed sharing. So really, she's perfectly happy with her lot in life right now.
Especially since Red is very likely extremely straight, if her reaction to Chloe's dad in the past was anything to go by. Chloe can look back on that now and laugh fondly, but gods if it didn't hurt when it happened. Confirmation that Red liked boys—just what Chloe wanted after being launched into the past with the extremely hot girl with really pretty eyes who had, not even hours ago, ordered the execution of her mother. That hadn't stopped her from nursing a budding crush on Red though.
Evidently, thinking straight isn’t Chloe's strong suit, not when it concerns Red. Or just thinking straight in general.
Chloe snaps out of her thoughts when she notices Red beginning to approach her at the study desk, arms still carefully behind her back. There's a shy grin dancing across red lips now, at odds with the radiant beam from earlier. Chloe personally thinks that this smile, more demure in its nature, might be one of her favourite smiles from Red.
Red closes the distance between them, and finally brings her hands out from behind her back, presenting them to Chloe. The bluenette blinks and looks down at the offering in front of her.
Which brings us back to the present, with Chloe staring at thirteen lavender roses held out to her by a grinning Red.
“I got these for you," Red says, eyes expectant as she takes in Chloe's reaction.
Chloe feels a wave of confusion crashing over her, pulling her into a rip and submerging her under the ocean water of sheer what-the-fuckery. Because, gods, Red has just given her the most confusing bouquet of her life. Chloe peers at it intently, eyes blinking again as she tries to discern whether or not her eyesight is playing tricks on her. It wouldn't be the first time after all—academic excellence waits for no one, and sleep deprivation is a bitch.
Nope. Thirteen lavender roses, all still there in Red's hands. Thirteen. Lavender. Roses.
What the fuck?
Roses, as a whole, symbolise many things, but among them—love, admiration and passion are the topmost meanings. Chloe would know. Audrey, her brother's fiancée, never shuts up about roses and their meanings. Which makes sense, she guesses, given the Rose family’s whole thing with roses. You know, because they’re roses. Doesn't mean it doesn't get old after the 50th time, though.
Regardless of her own personal gripes with the ‘meanings of various roses’ spiels she gets subjected to on a weekly basis, Chloe is certain of one thing. She is very knowledgeable on rose symbolism.
Which means that, if she isn't hallucinating the lavender roses in front of her right now, Red has just confessed her love to Chloe. While simultaneously, all at once, rejecting Chloe and placing her firmly in the friend zone, because there are thirteen of those damn roses. Ergo, Chloe's current state of confusion.
“Princess?" Red's voice is a bit confused, but there's also a teasing lilt to it. “You alright there?"
Honestly, no, she isn't. Chloe is flattered and flustered and so incredibly fucking confused. Still, she dutifully takes the flowers from Red's grasp and bows her head slightly to smell them. And wow, look at her go, stopping to smell the roses. Chad would freak.
Chloe raises her head and meets Red’s gaze, greedily drinking in every possible micro expression on her princess's face. She offers the redhead a soft, delighted smile, eyes still searching. Maybe, just maybe...
Yeah, nah. Red has no fucking clue about the implications of what she’s just done, if the pleasant yet puzzled look in her eyes says anything. That's what Chloe had figured, but the confirmation doesn't make it any less gut wrenching. That’s Red alright—her fluffy and stupidly oblivious baby. And now she has to thank Red without seeming too heartbroken.
“Thank you so much, Red!"
And goddamnit, that came out way too vibrant. Red doesn't seem too fazed, though, likely just chalking it up to Chloe's usual strange habits. It's not Chloe's fault that she sometimes acts like an utter buffoon around Red—she’s Charming, but only when she gets enough sleep.
Chloe coughs lightly, trying to play it off with a smooth recovery.
“What's the occasion, babygirl?" See? Smoooooth. Chloe almost believes herself, but the fact that she’s studiously staring at the door behind Red keeps her from fully gaslighting herself. Maybe Red will fall for it though.
Silence. Red isn’t responding. The silence stretches on, and Chloe feels a flicker of panic. Did she overdo it? Did Red see right through her? Her heart pounds in her chest as she waits for Red to say something—anything—to break the stillness.
No dice. Very bravely, in her humble opinion, Chloe risks a glance at Red, only to be met with the sight of a dazed princess, jaw slack, and an extremely pretty flush spread across her cheeks. Huh, so maybe she is charming. Charming, even. But gods, if Red isn't a sight for sore eyes.
Chloe waves her hand in front of Red's face, trying to invoke a response. Nada. That girl is gone.
“Baby?" Chloe gently lifts Red's dropped jaw, her fingers brushing over pretty, red lips as she shuts the redhead’s mouth. Her hand lingers on Red’s jaw before trailing up to cup her face. She hears something high-pitched come from Red. Is that…?
Chloe leans in closer to confirm, and her smile widens in amused delight. It is. Red, her passionate and fiery Red, is steadily releasing a quiet and prolonged whine, face aflame and eyes dazed.
“Breathe, baby," Chloe says, endlessly entertained. All of a sudden, she's the one with the upper hand—not that Red even knows there’s a competition. But, gods, the amount of times that Red has inadvertently made Chloe flustered—that shit is not for the weak. Chloe might be a bad person for enjoying this, but she can't help it. After all, if there's anything she's learnt from Red, it's that there's no harm in breaking a few rules. And payback is so, so sweet.
Still though, Red hasn't taken a breath in like almost a minute, and Chloe is getting concerned.
“Red," Chloe says, her voice a gentle command, “breathe." This time, Red complies, sucking in a deep, harsh breath, miraculously avoiding choking. Chloe is in awe.
She raises an eyebrow at her favourite girl, a reminder of her previous question. Red takes another breath, a shallow one this time, as if to offset the humongous breath she just took. Chloe likes to delude herself into thinking it's because of her, though.
“The flowers reminded me of us," Red says softly, voice slightly laboured. "They're pretty and purple—just like us." There's a sheepish smile on her face, one that's usually supported by a mischievous look in her eyes. That look is here this time, too, but it's tinged with a hint of Red's earlier fluster and the lingering light pink across her cheeks. Gods, if that isn't one of the prettiest sights Chloe has ever seen.
Red got her flowers, because they reminded the redhead of them. They were Red and Chloe, red and blue, blue and red. And together, they made purple. And fuck, Chloe can't help but love her for it.
“Why thirteen, though?"
Because Chloe just has to ask—apparently, she's a masochist and so ready to break her own damn heart.
“Chad told me to get you thirteen?" Red says it like a question, and Chloe feels a fiery rage explode in her chest, because of course that damnable blond boy would do that. Chad, who is equally as well versed in floriography as she is, who knows almost every excruciating detail about her crush on Red, who has to deal with all of Chloe's pining. That asshole. He knew Chloe would freak out.
She's going to kill a bitch. Sorry Audrey, but your fiancé is about to become minced meat at the end of Chloe's sword.
She’s snapped out of her rage when she feels Red’s cheek, still nestled in her palm, nuzzle deeper. And, yup, there goes her composure again. Whoosh, right out the damn window. No thoughts, head empty, only Red.
Chloe's heart stutters as Red's warmth seeps into her hand, anchoring her in the moment. Gods, how is she supposed to plot Chad's downfall when Red does things like this? It’s a tangible, physical reminder of the bond the two share—Red doesn't nuzzle into just anyone. Chloe is special, and this simple gesture is proof of it.
She's still going to kill Chad, though. Just maybe not today.
“Why is thirteen so important?" Red finally asks, her hand coming up to rest against Chloe's, holding it in place against her cheek. Chloe stiffens. How the hell does one explain to their probably straight best friend—who they definitely have a crush on—the symbolism behind the bouquet they just received? How does one explain the very gay implications?
Chloe has no fucking clue how to proceed, so in true, genius and rule following fashion, her traitorous mouth blurts out the truth. Thanks a lot, mouth. Thanks a lot.
“Thirteen roses, in floriography, symbolise the idea of friends forever," Chloe begins, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "It’s, obviously, a declaration of eternal friendship." She hears Red make a noise of acknowledgement—a noise of agreement—and feels her stomach drop. Ouch, friendzoned before she can even say the next part. She turns to face the ceiling and closes her eyes.
"Lavender roses, on the other hand, symbolise love at first sight." Dead silence meets her words. Chloe keeps her eyes shut, letting Red process the absolute clusterfuck that is the bouquet she gave the bluenette. Miraculously, Red hasn't shoved her hand away yet, so Chloe allows herself to relish in the warmth under her palm.
She can feel Red's stare—intense and burning a hole into the side of her face—but remains stubbornly turned away. She doesn't want to look Red in the eyes when she gets rejected, okay? Because even though there was no actual confession, the fact that Red now knows the meaning behind the bouquet means she can now outright reject Chloe. Which fucking sucks, but such is life. We ball, and all that.
Chloe is slightly delusional, but that's okay. Better delusional, she thinks, than breaking down right here, right in front of the love of her life.
"Princess," Red begins, and Chloe braces herself for the worst. "Are you saying that I basically told you that I've been in love with you since we met, and then proceeded to friendzone you right after?"
Chloe can't help the hysterical giggle that bursts out of her at that moment. Red sounds so disbelieving, so shocked, and so utterly confused. That's exactly how Chloe felt earlier when she saw the damn thing. Red joins her in the hysterical giggling, the stupidity of the situation hitting them both hard. Because, really, what the actual fuck.
Finally, their giggles die down, and the gravity of the situation forces itself onto Chloe again. Seriously, why didn't Newton observe something other than an apple? Maybe then, Auradon wouldn't be forced to abide by the Earth's gravitational pull—like Wonderland—and Chloe wouldn't feel so weighed down in this moment. She's serious. Fuck you, gravity.
"Look at me, boo."
Chloe would rather not, if it's all the same to you, Red. Well, she thinks that anyways, but really, who is she kidding. All Red needs to do is say the word, and Chloe will be on her knees. It's a bit unfair, the power the redhead has over her, but it is what it is. Chloe is, indeed, a certified simp.
So Chloe turns to face Red, eyes wide, gaze hesitant, and soul apathetic—because she knows if she’s anything less than emotionless, she’ll cry.
And wow, Red has really pretty eyes. Chloe’s distantly aware that she's made this observation a million times before, but all those realisations are irrelevant now. Because, god, Red’s eyes are really pretty. Like, have they always been this brown? Did they always have those gold flecks in them? She's so ready to drown in them, feeling all warm and gooey just knowing that those eyes even deigned to acknowledge her presence. They're so gorgeous, they can't be mortal. Fuck, Chloe must be in the presence of some kind of divinity, because that's what Red is—divine.
Chloe is so lucky to have Red in her life, even if it's just as her best friend. She’ll take any relationship she can get, as long as she can keep the Princess of Hearts close to her heart.
"What do the other numbers mean?" Red asks, a soft, fond smile playfully stretching across her lips. Chloe feels herself fold internally at the sight—those dimples are like faint ghosts, gracing the world with their presence for just a moment. She’s not too sure why Red is so interested in floriography beyond the mess of a bouquet she bought, but she indulges the redhead anyways. How can she possibly deny her baby?
Chloe explains the symbolism of all the numbers under thirteen, her confusion growing as Red's eyes visibly light up with interest when she gets to one. Red asks her to explain the symbolism of twelve roses again, and Chloe complies, uncertain but happy to oblige.
With a small smile, Red reaches over to the bouquet Chloe is still clutching like her life depends on it. She uses her free hand to pluck a rose from the outer part of the bouquet, holding on to it while leaving Chloe with the remaining twelve. Wait, twelve? Chloe freezes, unable to believe what she’s seeing.
Red remains blissfully oblivious, bringing their joined hands down and swinging them together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Chloe feels faint.
"Let's go get ice cream," Red says in a cajoling tone, already determinedly tugging at Chloe's hand. God, this girl and her ice cream addiction. Chloe swears half her allowance goes towards funding their platonic little ice cream dates at this point.
The trip to their favourite ice cream parlour is uneventful, if you disregard the fact that Red keeps twirling the singular lavender rose between her fingers with an oddly lithe and incredibly distracting grace. Even stranger is how Red all but insisted Chloe bring the rest of the bouquet along. Chloe was confused, but of course she brought it—Red had asked.
It’s only when they’re seated at the parlour, ice cream in hand—Chloe with her classic mint chocolate chip, and Red with cherry—that Red finally voices her thoughts. Well, sort of. First, she snatches Chloe's bouquet, causing the bluenette to gasp in mock offence. How dare she? That was her bouquet. Admittedly, Red was the one who gave it to her, but still. Her point remains.
With a deep breath, Red offers the single lavender rose to Chloe. A single lavender rose.
One, to signify love at first sight. Lavender, to signify love at first sight. And Chloe knows—she knows—that Red understands the meaning this time, because she literally just explained it less than 20 minutes ago.
Red isn't finished, though. She fully, willingly, offers the bouquet of twelve lavender roses to Chloe. Twelve lavender roses.
Twelve—a special message. One that Chloe has been dying to hear from Red, since quite possibly Day 1. Twelve, the declaration: I want you to be mine.
And when you put it all together? Fuck, Chloe might actually faint. But Red doesn't give her the chance to process it all.
"I've loved you from the moment I first saw you, when I threatened you with a Jabberwocky. Please, Chloe, be mine?"