The Runaway Professor

24. The Note

A/N: thanks for being patient. Unfortunately, you need some more patience for the following chapter. Been slightly stressed with life and am still right now. Stay healthy and kind <3

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*Cordelia's POV*

Smoothness touched the tip of my pointer. Dry, yet smooth it was... it warmed after a moment. A rough patch at the bottom—

Eyes pried open I found myself staring out of a window wall. The sky as black as could be and the longer my sight adjusted to the darkness, the more stars shone within it.

An odd lightheadedness washed through my body. Head warm, but not in pain. Curtains, a semi see-through white fabric beside the tall windows, a bookshelf in a dark wooden tint. A tv, a humongous one, plants which appeared to be well cared for...

This was not my home. However, before I could panic at the unfamiliar surroundings I was hit with a breeze of that well-known scent. Warm vanilla, though a hint of something spicy lingered in the familiar frequency. Shifting in my position, weight pressed onto an elbow, I spotted the mane of blonde hair on the vertical end of the space I laid on. Hand brushing over the leather I exhaled softly, attentively gazing at the rising and sinking torso of the woman close by. Snores, soft and partially grunting like, fell from her lips.

A coughing fit disturbed the silence once a drop of saliva slid down my dry throat. Attempting to muffle my sounds, the blanket in front of my mouth, Cate jumped as if there was a burglar breaking into the house. Amusement mixed with my near death experience.

Kneeling in front of me, hands holding a bowl into my lap, I took in her face upon calming down my irritated throat with a few soft breaths.

"I'm okay," I whispered, voice rough as it cracked every few syllables. "Just spit."

Bowing her chin and rising it, I glared into her tired eyes. Checking her wristwatch she spoke, "you've been sleeping for a while. How's your head?" Fingertips roaming the once throbbing spot on my head, I was now only met with a low pressure below her touch.

"Not so hot anymore."

"Okay," she breathed, trying to rise but failing with a sizzling hiss. The direction her hand wandered off to, I gathered the origin.

She slept on the couch because I did. "You shouldn't have stayed down here."

"For all I know you could've choked on your own vomit and I'd be fast asleep in my bed. Not happening, Delia."

"Just imagine the stress of cleaning off the vomit off a dead body.. I understand." A husk of a smile graced her lips, before my hands pushed me off the couch to stand behind her. "How do I best do this?" My hands gently found her shoulders, uncertainty in my tone.

"Just slow," she hummed once my hands slipped under her armpits to heave her up. "Okay, okay— oh— wait." I instantaneously stopped moving her, keeping her body halfway up, my muscles daring to protest.

"If I hurt you, I'm so—"

She brushed off my apology, and after some more minutes of struggling, we both collapsed onto the couch besides one another.

"I'm old."

I giggled and tapped her thigh. "Yeah, maybe we should have a chat about life insurance, yes?"

"Asshole," she laughed then flicked my nose, before pressing a kiss over the spot.

Silence. It fell over us, blanketing the room in nothing more than silence. Heart pounding inside my ears.
We had fought again. We had kissed again. We had made up again.