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Vaggi had always loved her girlfriend, no matter what. She loved Charlie when she was smiling so brightly it almost hurt to look at her. She loved her when she was rambling too fast, hands moving everywhere as she explained another impossible idea. She loved her when she was hopeful, stubborn, dramatic, nervous, loud, soft, and everything in between.
There was no version of Charlie that Vaggi did not love.
But that did not mean it was never overwhelming.
Sometimes Charlie’s energy filled every corner of the room before Vaggi had even managed to breathe. Sometimes her excitement came so quickly that Vaggi struggled to keep up. One idea turned into another, then another, and suddenly Vaggi was being pulled into plans, meetings, speeches, and emotional conversations she had not prepared herself for.
And Vaggi tried. She really did.
She listened and she supported. She stood beside Charlie because that was where she wanted to be. Loving Charlie had never felt like a burden. But some days, it was a lot. Charlie felt things with her whole heart, and sometimes Vaggi felt all of it too.
It could be exhausting.
Still, Vaggi never loved her any less.
Even when she needed a moment of quiet. Even when she had to close her eye and take a breath. Even when Charlie’s endless energy made her want to hide under a blanket for five minutes, Vaggi still looked at her and thought the same thing.
That was her girl.
Her loud, impossible, beautiful girl.
And Charlie always seemed to notice when Vaggi had reached her limit. Her voice would soften. Her hands would slow down. She would look at Vaggi with that gentle concern that made it impossible to stay annoyed.
Then she would open her arms.
Vaggi never had to explain much after that. She would just sink into Charlie’s embrace and let herself rest there. Charlie could be overwhelming, yes. But somehow, she was also the safest place Vaggi knew.
And Vaggi gave Charlie something back. She gave her honesty, loyalty, and the kind of love that did not disappear when things got ugly. She stayed. Even when Charlie doubted herself. Even when her plans failed. Even when everyone else laughed.
Vaggi stayed.
Giving presents had always been fun.
Vaggi liked it more than she admitted.
She was not always the best with big romantic speeches. Charlie could do those without even thinking. She could turn a simple “I love you” into something bright and emotional enough to make Vaggi look away before her face gave her up.
Vaggi was better with actions.
So she paid attention. She noticed when Charlie lingered too long in front of a shop window. She noticed when her eyes lit up at a dress, a pair of earrings, or some little decoration that had no real purpose other than making her happy. Charlie rarely asked for things directly. Most of the time, she only mentioned them quickly, tucked into a rush of conversation while they were shopping.
“Oh, that’s cute.”
“I used to want one of those.”
“That would look so nice in the hotel.”
They were small comments that could be easy to miss. But Vaggi never missed them. She remembered every single one.
Sometimes, a few days later, Charlie would come into their room and find a wrapped present waiting on the bed. She would stop in the doorway, confused at first, then turn to Vaggi with wide eyes.
“What’s this?”
Vaggi would shrug like it was nothing. “Open it.”
Charlie never opened presents calmly. She always treated them like something precious, even before she knew what was inside. Her fingers would carefully pull at the wrapping, her smile growing with every second.
And then she would see it.
The thing she had mentioned once and forgotten about.
Her whole face would change.
“Vaggi,” she would whisper, holding the gift like it might disappear. “You remembered?”
Vaggi would cross her arms, trying to look casual. “You wanted it.”
“I said that weeks ago.”
“Yeah. I heard you.”
That was usually when Charlie threw herself at her.
Vaggi always pretended the hug caught her off guard, even when she had been expecting it. Charlie would squeeze her tight, laughing into her shoulder, and Vaggi would let her. She would even smile when Charlie could not see.
Because that was the best part.
It was Charlie realizing she had been listened to.
Vaggi knew how much that mattered.
But Charlie gave gifts too, and somehow hers were always just as thoughtful.
Sometimes Vaggi would come home after a long day and find Charlie sitting on the bed, trying very badly to hide a smile. That was always suspicious.
“What did you do?” Vaggi would ask.
Charlie would gasp, far too dramatically. “Why do you assume I did something?”
“Because you look guilty.”
“I look loving.”
“You look guilty and loving.”
Charlie would then pull something from behind her back, and Vaggi would immediately understand.
A new comic from the latest series she had been following.
A book she had picked up once and put back because she did not need it.
A soft skirt in a color Charlie had said would look pretty on her.
Sometimes Charlie bought practical things too, but even those felt sweet because she had noticed. She remembered what Vaggi liked. What she reached for. What she almost bought but decided against.
Vaggi would stare at the gift for a second too long.
Charlie always caught that.
“You like it?” she would ask, suddenly nervous.
Vaggi would look at her, then at the gift again.
“Yeah,” she would say, softer than she meant to. “I love it.”
Charlie would beam, which Vaggi would never grow tired of.
Something Vaggi had always found loving was the way they did things for each other.
Not the big things, even though those mattered too. Not the grand gestures, or the dramatic promises Charlie loved so much. Vaggi meant the small things. The quiet things. The things someone only did when they paid attention.
Cleaning was one of them.
The hotel could get messy fast. Too fast. There was always something out of place, something broken or something spilled. Vaggi usually noticed first. She had a habit of keeping track of everything, even when she did not mean to.
But Charlie noticed too.
Sometimes Vaggi would walk into their room after a long day and find that Charlie had already tidied up. Clothes folded. Papers stacked neatly. The bed fixed. A cup of tea waiting on the table because Charlie knew Vaggi’s head had probably started hurting an hour ago.
Something that had slightly surprised Vaggi in the beginning of their relationship was the fact that Charlie did those gestures at all.
Not because Charlie was careless. She was not. Charlie cared more than anyone Vaggi had ever known. She cared about people, feelings, dreams and every tiny detail that could make someone feel loved.
But Charlie was also messy by nature.
Vaggi knew that better than anyone.
Charlie could leave papers everywhere without realizing it. Clothes ended up on chairs, pillows, the floor, or somehow half-hanging off the bed. Her desk could go from clean to disaster in under an hour, especially when she was excited about a new idea. She had a habit of setting things down and instantly forgetting where they were.
It can drive Vaggi a little insane.
But that was why it meant so much when Charlie cleaned for her.
Because Vaggi knew it did not come naturally. Charlie had to stop, look around, and choose to make the space calmer. She had to think about what Vaggi needed, even when her own mind was probably running in ten different directions at once.
That made it different.
One of the things Vaggi held dearest was the time they spent together.
Charlie could make even a simple walk feel important. She noticed details Vaggi would have ignored. A colorful sign. A strange decoration. A tiny café that somehow looked less awful than the rest of Hell. She would talk about everything, full of energy, while Vaggi listened with a small smile she tried to hide.
Other times, their time together was quieter.
Late nights were Vaggi’s favorite. When the hotel had finally settled down, when everyone else had either gone to bed or become someone else’s problem, she and Charlie would curl up together and watch a movie. Most of the time, Charlie picked something emotional. Something sweet. Something that made her cry within the first twenty minutes.
Vaggi always teased her for it.
And then she always pulled her closer.
Charlie would rest her head against Vaggi’s shoulder, blanket tucked around them both, and Vaggi would feel the day slowly leave her body. The noise. The stress. The constant pressure to keep everything under control. It all softened when Charlie was there.
Sometimes they barely watched the movie.
Charlie would start talking halfway through, whispering little comments about the characters, the story, or whatever thought had wandered into her mind. Vaggi would tell her to be quiet, but she never really meant it. She loved Charlie’s voice. She loved the way conversations with her could drift from something silly to something deep without warning.
While spending time together had become one of the most important parts of their love life, compliments had become part of their language. Charlie gave them easily, like she had an endless supply hidden somewhere inside her chest.
“You’re amazing, Vaggi.”
“You look so pretty today.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Vaggi had pretended not to melt every single time.
She would roll her eye, look away, and mutter something like, “Yeah, yeah. Focus.”
But Charlie’s smile always turned smug afterward, because she knew exactly what she had done.
So Vaggi had learned to fight back.
She complimented Charlie when she least expected it. During meetings. In hallways. In the middle of arguments. She would say something simple, like, “You’re cute when you’re singing,” and watch Charlie’s entire face go pink.
That was victory.
Sometimes it turned into a competition. Neither of them ever officially agreed to it, but they both knew when it started. One compliment became two. Two became five. Before long, they were trading praise like attacks, trying to see who would get flustered first.
Charlie had passion on her side.
Vaggi had timing.
That was why Vaggi usually won.
She knew exactly when to lean close. Exactly when to lower her voice. Exactly when to say something so sincere that Charlie forgot how to respond.
One evening, Charlie had been walking around the hotel lobby with that proud little glow she got after a successful meeting. She had been talking nonstop about new plans, new posters, new everything, and Vaggi had been listening from the couch with her arms crossed.
Charlie turned to her, smiling.
“What?” she asked. “You’re staring.”
Vaggi raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to?”
Charlie blinked. “I mean, you are, but…”
“You looked really pretty when you were giving orders,” Vaggi said. “Like from yesterday.”
Charlie froze.
It was immediate. Her shoulders tensed, her cheeks turned pink, and her mouth opened like she had a full speech ready.
Nothing came out.
Vaggi tried to stay serious. She really did. But the look on Charlie’s face was too good.
“You okay there, princesa?”
Charlie covered her face with both hands. “Vaggi.”
That was all it took. Vaggi laughed, leaning back into the couch while Charlie groaned into her palms.
“What?” Vaggi said, still smiling. “I’m just being honest.”
“That’s worse,” Charlie mumbled.
Vaggi laughed harder.
Another time, Charlie had been trying to compliment Vaggi first.
It had started in the kitchen, where Charlie had cornered her with a smug smile and a dangerous amount of confidence.
“You know,” Charlie said, leaning against the counter, “you’re very attractive when you’re focused.”
Vaggi glanced at her. “Yeah?”
Charlie nodded. “Very.”
Vaggi stepped closer. “Funny. I was just thinking you’re very attractive when you think you’re winning.”
Charlie’s smile faltered.
Vaggi tilted her head. “Especially when you get all proud of yourself. It’s cute.”
Charlie’s face went warm so quickly that Vaggi almost felt bad.
Almost.
“I’m not cute,” Charlie said, even though her voice had gone a little too high.
“You’re adorable.”
“Vaggi.”
“And beautiful in that red suit of yours.”
“Vaggi.”
“And kind of hot when you try to flirt.”
Charlie made a strangled noise and turned toward the sink like the dishes had suddenly become extremely interesting.
Vaggi stared at her for one second.
Then she burst out laughing.
Charlie pointed at her without looking back. “Do not laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you,” Vaggi said, which was clearly a lie. “I’m laughing because you started this.”
“I regret everything.”
“You should. You lost.”
Charlie groaned, but Vaggi could see the smile she was trying to hide.
Vaggi would say, though, that the best compliments were the ones that sometimes turned into heated moments. Knowing her girlfriend had a praise kink only fueled her ego, especially when she knew that a few words could make Charlie’s legs feel weak.
“Good girl.”
Vaggi was always pleased by what those words could reward her with.
Their almost intimate moments had always felt sacred to her. Not just because of the warmth, or the closeness, or the way Charlie reacted so beautifully to the right words. It was more than that. Those moments let them relax completely. They let them feel safe, wanted, and emotionally connected in a way neither of them ever took for granted.
They knew each other well.
Vaggi knew when Charlie needed praise. When she needed gentleness. When she needed to be held close and reminded that she was loved, exactly as she was. Charlie knew Vaggi too. She knew when to be soft, when to be playful, and when to reach for her hand. Or when to simply stay near without asking too much.
It made everything between them feel natural.
Vaggi loved every part of her girlfriend. She loved learning her reactions, her little sounds, the way her confidence could melt so quickly under the right compliment. She loved how open Charlie was with her affection, how eager she could become, how curious and expressive she was during those private moments.
Charlie was the same with her.
That was obvious in the way the princess looked at her. Excited, loving, and full of wonder, like Vaggi was someone worth exploring carefully.
And during the day, they never missed a chance to show that love in smaller ways.
Holding hands in the hallway.
A kiss on the cheek before a meeting.
Charlie leaning against Vaggi when she was tired.
Vaggi brushing a strand of hair away from Charlie’s face.
A quick kiss on the lips when neither of them could resist it.
Charlie had been the first woman Vaggi ever truly fell in love with.
It had taken Vaggi time to understand it. At first, Charlie had simply been the woman who found her bleeding in an alley. The woman who should have kept walking, because most people in Hell would have. The woman who had every reason to be afraid, suspicious, or disgusted.
But Charlie had not looked at her like she was something broken.
She had looked at her like she was someone worth saving.
Vaggi still remembered that.
She remembered the pain. The fear. The humiliation of being left behind like she was nothing. She remembered thinking that was it. That whatever she had been before was gone, and whatever came after would not be much better.
Then Charlie appeared. And somewhere along the way, that Princess had saved more than her life.
She saved her heart too.
Vaggi did not say that often. It sounded too dramatic or too exposed. But it was true. Before Charlie, Vaggi had not known what it felt like to be wanted without having to prove herself first. She had not known what it felt like to be chosen gently.
Charlie gave her that.
She gave her a home when Vaggi had none. She gave her trust when Vaggi did not believe she deserved it. She gave her love before Vaggi knew what to do with it.
And Vaggi had fallen for her.
Charlie was grateful Vaggi had appeared in her life too.
That still made something inside Vaggi ache.
Because Charlie had saved her first, but Vaggi knew love had never been one-sided between them. They had both changed each other. They had both given each other something they had been missing.
Charlie had given Vaggi hope.
Vaggi had given Charlie someone who would stand beside her no matter what.
Someone who believed in her when the world laughed.
Someone who loved her not because she was perfect, but because she was Charlie.
And Vaggi was grateful for that every single day.
Grateful for the alley, even if the memory hurt.
Grateful for the moment Charlie chose to stop.
Grateful for the hands that pulled her out of the worst moment of her life and into something she had never expected to find.
A future.
A home.
A love that stayed.