「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(246) Well Worth The Wait

Lynn's POV

"You are never dispensable to me, Charles," I asserted in a solemn tone, gently caressing his cheek and planted a soft kiss to his lips.

"And neither are you to me, Lynn," Charles declared sincerely, gazing his pair of wondrous crystal blue eyes fondly into mine.

Instantly, my heart fluttered like the wingbeats of a butterfly but fell weak the next moment, thoroughly melting in his bewitching presence. It was, once again, the ironic powerlessness induced by the delicate flames of devotion burning in his eyes that rendered me feeble and vulnerable. Yet, the same amazing passion could miraculously invigorate, graciously gifting me strength and essentially made me smile like I was fearless.

"If you'd like to join them, I could drive," Charles courteously offered, reading me like a book without touching a tinge of my mind.

Beaming appreciatively, my lips parted but before I could articulate any verbal response, a fairly noticeable rumble emanated from my empty stomach and my cheeks surged with a warm sensation as I plopped my head bashfully onto Charles' shoulder.

"I trust Jubilee has breakfast prepared for us," Charles kindly informed, chuckling at the ridiculous interruption, and I nodded against his bare skin.

"I hate to say this, but I think we should get dressed," Charles whispered in a mischievous tone and I giggled, leaving a peck on his neck before reluctantly peeling myself off him.

Carefully dismounting Charles, I swung open our wardrobe doors telekinetically and diligently selected outfits for the both of us as Charles meticulously disentangled our immobilised legs from each other.

Opting for casual pieces to match this fine Saturday morning, I smoothly levitated the stack of chosen clothing towards us as I docked our manual chairs to our respective sides of the bed and we promptly began cloaking ourselves.

Effortlessly, Charles decked his top into the thin navy knit but the complexities clearly emerged as he strenuously worked to tug on his underwear. However, wholly aware that he could manage the tedious guiding of his dead limbs through the pair of dark grey jeans independently, I turned my attention towards my own apparels instead.

Quickly donning on my bra and a plain white tee, my panties followed with great labour that starkly contrasted its mere amount of fabric, causing me to pant heavily as I difficultly fitted my inanimate limbs into a pair of black leggings.

Although Charles was constantly and genuinely encouraging about the unusual appearance of my useless legs, I was no more ready to expose their series of unsightly scars in public than I was around the mansion, with him being the only one whom I had voluntarily allowed access.

Swiftly pulling on his jacket, Charles leaned over and kissed me lovingly on the cheek, leaving me grinning in infatuation, before he dropped off into his chair. As he slotted on a pair of shined tan leather loafers, I wrapped myself under a classic denim outerwear and routinely floated off the mattress, loading myself comfortably into my own before individually sliding my limp feet into a pair of monochromic checkered Vans.

Surely, we never actually needed new shoes but Charles understandingly accepted that indulging in fashion was certainly one of my ways to stay perky against our disability and undeniably, it had grown to become his too.

Conscientiously packing some of our paraplegic necessities into a small bag, Charles slung it to the back of his chair as I proceeded into the bath, happily accessorising myself. The originally sparing habit had unmistakably moulded itself into my daily routine, playing an important role to inspire my confidence. Not to mention that our age, in need of some mild concealing, was inevitably catching up, and gradually, I learnt to take pleasure in dolling myself.