Between the Ice [h.s]

06 || Waffles & Pancakes

-Eulalia-

Laying in Harry's guest bedroom, the sun rising through the white curtains, I haven't slept a single hour in this room. The creaks and cracks come every so often. My body shifts and turns in the soft blankets, and my mind hasn't been able to relax and focus on trying to sleep.

It isn't helpful that I'm somewhere that I'm not comfortable or used to. Also, I sleep with headphones as the music plays in the background. And my stomach has been growling for food till the point where I am pulling the covers off my legs and walking to exit out of the bedroom door.

As I slowly open it, the living room comes into view, the stairs in the corner on the left, the kitchen on the right, right below where Harry sleeps. When I make my way to the kitchen, the tile below my feet is cold.

The coldness of the fridge handle sparks my skin when goosebumps slowly rise to my right arm. The fridge light glows up the kitchen and my eyes search the mediocre-filled fridge, quite surprised at my options for breakfast.

Pulling out the carton of eggs and a water bottle, I turn around. My eyes reach to the cabinets, and I'm searching for a pan when I find pancake mix and a waffle maker. My intrusive thoughts get the best of me and I'm taking both items out and setting them on the counter. Still wanting to cook my eggs, I search for the pan, it's in the last cabinet.

Once I have put my ingredients together I plug in the waffle maker and slowly pour the batter on the warm shape, closing it shut to let it bake. I crack three eggs, the sizzle making me punch myself mentally cause I could accidentally wake Harry up, and for God's sake, he'll be in a mood. I grab a wooden spoon and push the yoke around the pan. Lightly seasoning my eggs with salt and pepper.

I turn my attention back to the waffle, lifting the handle to see its finish. I take it out, setting it on a plate. I pour some more batter on, closing it shut to make the perfect waffle.

Now that everything is made, I am sitting on a barstool, eating my breakfast. I even decided to cook some small pancakes with the little amount of batter I had left. To my luck Harry hasn't woken up yet and I hope it stays that way.

It is around seven in the morning, the sunrise has finally risen and it reflects onto my back. I cut my waffle, drowning it with syrup and shoving the piece of food into my mouth, the flavors all hitting my taste buds at once.

"What are you doing?" The rasp of his voice makes me turn around, midbite, my eyes look down, and I'm staring at his torso. The ink on his body makes me weak in the knees. A butterfly lies printed on his tanned skin, a beautiful piece of art.

"Eating." I mumble, chewing the soggy piece of waffle. He walks around, passing me and stands across, leaning forward with his elbows balanced on the kitchen counter. His eyes focus on my food, switching back to my eyes.

"Eating?"

I nod, playing with my eggs. Catching a glimpse at him, he's walking around to where the rest of the food sits. Takes an extra plate from his cabinet, and is throwing food onto the plate he just grabbed. I look away, diving right back into my food.

"You know, I have never had a girl make me breakfast." He informs me, taking a seat next to me and putting a piece of egg straight into his mouth.

"Well, make it your last..." I mutter, shoving another piece of my waffle into my mouth.

"Are you not a morning person?"

"Oh I am..." I shove the food into my mouth, "I just didn't sleep well." I be honest, looking him in the corner of the eye.

"Why didn't you leave?"

"I don't know..." I say, finishing my food and pushing the plate forward. I lean against the chair, crossing my arms over my chest, "I'm leaving when I'm done cleaning up."