XVIII. Lock and Key

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After school, you made your way to Cordelia's and helped yourself inside, waiting a few minutes in her living room before she came shuffling in the door, closing it behind her. She drops her bags and takes her shoes off as she looks at you on the couch. She saunters over, scooping you up into her arms to sit in her lap. You smile and cuddle up against her, bringing your legs up onto her.

"Are you still upset?" she whispers, letting you rest your head against hers.

"No. Or- I'm trying not to be. And I'm not mad at you," you reply, fidgeting with the ends of her hair and looking down at your lap.

"Well that's good. But I want you to talk to me. About what you said."

You dreaded this, but at the same time you'd love to pour your heart out to her and let her comfort you. You sigh, still looking down.

"Ask me anything and I'll answer. ...I just- don't know where to start," you mumbled, embarrassed.

"Alright. ...Why did you cry in the bathtub? I feel like this might be related..."

"...It is... I guess. I just- remembered my...nannies bathing me and not my mom. Always a new one every few months...always a stranger. Until I was 11."

Her breathing picked up a tad, and you meet her disturbed eyes.

"Why?"

"I was really dependent on her as a little girl, I couldn't be away from her and it kind of... followed me to my teen years... I think that's why she grew to dislike me. And hired... caregivers when she couldn't be there. She worked a lot."
She held you a little tighter and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry. You're safe," she whispers. Your eyebrows draw together as you melt. After a moment she only slightly pulls away. "So you spent a lot of time having strangers take care of you?"

You look at her and nod.

"Maybe that's how we got so close so easily," you smirk a bit.

"Maybe, but I did some of the job too," she smiled, gently tickling your stomach and retracing her hand, making you flinch and huff with a smirk. "Okay... did they baby you y/n?"
You stare at her rather long and hard, swallowing a nervous breath. You nodded. "Your mother influenced it?" she asked in an already knowing voice. You nod again.

"I did a lot of things to try to get her to like me. I stuck with ballet, I cleaned up after myself and I stayed away from her when I could... and tried to make myself prettier."
You hoped she somehow wouldn't catch onto you referring to starving but obviously, she did.

"Sweetheart, you're perfect," she whimpered, holding you close as you try not to cry and push her away. You hold onto her, closing your eyes.

"I'm glad I'm gone. I'd rather be here, with you," you sound quietly. She looks at you but you keep your eyes closed, focused on her embrace.

"Me too sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

"I don't even want to go home on the holidays," you sadly chuckle. Cordelia's grasp loosened noticeably and she got all quiet. "Hey you don't like your mom either, can we stay together? Have Christmas together and get each other presents?" you ask with half joking puppy eyes and a smirk, though you hoped she would say yes.

"I- I still go home for Christmas y/n. I'm so sorry."

"Oh. ...To see who?"

"Still family my love. I'm so sorry, I wish I could take you everywhere with me."

"Me too. It's okay." You actually had no idea what to do for the holidays. You planned to figure something, anything out that didn't involve going home.

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