Here's the first chapter of a short little fic I started writing to procrastinate all the other projects I was writing on. Spoilers: there will be a happy ending. I promise.
I'm cold.
My alarm hadn't gone off yet, but I was still awake. Angela was already out of bed. I couldn't see her over the tall shelf smack dab in the middle of our little studio, but I could hear—something. Muffled, tinny sound coming through her headphones. It was turned all the way down, but my hearing was good. Even in two-legged form.
I could picture her in my head. Sitting cross-legged on the raggedy futon, hunched over the UW laptop we shared, a crease in her forehead. It made me smile.
I don't want to get up, I decided. It was Saturday and I didn't need to be at the warehouse until 3. I kicked the covers into a more comfortable shape and rolled over.
The laptop slammed shut. I heard Angela get up—so quietly—and tiptoe the two steps from futon to shelf. Her breathing was fast, like she was scared.
Like she doesn't want me to be awake.
I held perfectly still. Went through my breathing exercises. In… two… three.. four… Out… two… three… four…
She stood there for a second. Maybe looking down at me. I didn't peek. Then she tiptoed back to the couch.
The laptop opened. The tinny sound resumed. It was too quiet for me to tell what it was.
Weird.
It wasn't a big deal, but it felt like a little itch in the back of my mind. I imagined pushing it out, like my therapist told me to. Shoo! Poof!
I drifted back to sleep.