Who Is Who? (Cate Blanchett x Female OC)

"Making This Promise"

"Who is Who?"

CHAPTER XI

[NOT PROOFREAD!]

"Cordelia?"

Cate neared closer, almost not believing the sight before her. What was she doing in Sydney? All the way from chilly England to the ever-warm Australia, of all places! Christmas barely ended just a day or two ago, Cordelia should be with her family; her sibling; her mother. For God's sake, she could be even visiting her father. What possessed her to roam into Australia? Of all places!

The girl, on the other hand, was petrified. Her breath was knocked out of her lungs, absent. She had the whole day — the entire day! — to think. And she has nothing. Not a word that she could utter. Cate was looking at her with a hopeful glance that she will at least say something, anything. But Cordelia stayed silent, at least for this moment.

"Cordelia?" Cate hopefully pled again, eyebrows scurried into a worried line.

The woman was forced out of her mid-day coma when Cate's fingertips delicately brushed against her shoulder. Trying to touch her as if she was a porcelain doll, worth a fortune. It was soft and pure, and sacred against her skin. Cordelia couldn't help but feel a shiver run back and up against her spine.

Cate realized Cordelia wasn't going to speak for a while. She saw in the girl's eyes that she was absent. Almost stuck between her thoughts and reality. She let her fingertips fall from the brunette's skin, regretting the choice immediately after missing the warmth radiating. Loss of touch seemed to bring back Cordelia: her eyes weren't staring somewhere through the wide windows anymore, they weren't glistening with strange thoughts, and they were finally in contact with the blue pair of eyes in front of her.

"Are you okay? Why are you here? Did something happen?" Cordelia heard first thing after regaining possession of her mind. Cate attacked her with questions, one after another, and the girl let her do that, waited, until she could answer. She would too, be confused if Cate came to England one day, without notifying anything, or explaining it prior. Of course, she, too, would think of the worst.

Cordelia heard the blonde stop and began a speech of her own, only a bit calmer. "I'm fine, Cate. Everything is fine, don't worry. I'm not here for myself, or my family. I'm here for you." The pressure on her chest began to wane and shrink after she started speaking. Words fell out of her mouth so easily, as if she was meant to say them long ago:

"I'm sorry."

Blue eyes widened; eyebrows furrowed into a thin line; mouth fell a little agape.

"I don't understand."

And it echoed out again:

"I'm sorry."

The secretary in the background, by then, put in her earplugs and secured them, returning to read her September 1973 'Playboy' magazine. She was on the verge to stop the pair, or make them go outside to sort out whatever they had, but after five failed attempts to even get their attention, she stopped, figuring it was easier to ignore them than beg for peace.

Cordelia let go of her suitcase and raised her arms around her neck, harshly pressing down onto it. "I don't know how to explain it, but...I got your letter."

Those words meant more to Cate than what they directly told. Every lock and thought in her head clicked into their belonged place. Cordelia read it... she read her letter. The letter she regretted sending seconds after mailing it. The letter where she explained every corner and detail of the night. Truth to be told, she did it on a whim. Andrew took the kids for a day out before Christmas; she was alone; emotional; confused. With a few drinks prior, she remembered what happened a few years ago, and feelings overtook her. She found a piece of parchment, a pen, and the perfume Cordelia used to love so much. She regretted sending it, she was risking the girl hating her forever. She was risking losing her role in the movie. She was risking everything as if she was a teenager. But, well, it turned out okay, maybe not all things teenagers do are mistakes.