the journal - h.s.

64

[amber's pov]

He kept hiccuping as I dragged him out into the kitchen. While searching for a glass the only sounds were of me opening cupboards and him hiccuping every now and then with that steady rhythm.

"You know," hiccup, "you could also ask me for," hiccup, "help," Harry carefully stated as he looked at my try of locating a damn glass. Were they hiding them in the bathtub or something?

But he was right. I stopped the search and moved a strand of hair back into place, as he sent me a small smile and took two steps - to a glass cupboard I had missed on the other side of the room over the microwave, which was of course filled with glass. He handed me two. It seemed all of them were of different cheap designs.

It sounded adorable. And with each hiccup I looked sideways up at him to see the way he jumped a little each time, as I filled the glass with tap water. It was so stupid but I couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't stop my heart from feeling fuzzy and warm.

"You should try to drink it with your head down," I handed him the glass and watched him take a sip.

"Are you serious?" He hiccupped as he stated the last word, so it came out sounding strange. I tried to ignore the signs of how truly exhausted he was. Here in the lit up kitchen it was so clear to see the dark circles under his eyes, and how he just seemed to be less simply. Less lively, less energetic, less Harry, there was absolutely no trace of the usual blush housing his cheekbones or the usual lines in his skin that would tell the history of how much he smiled.

I nodded and leaned the small of my back against the counter, as I casually grabbed his hand. I had released it in my desperate try to find the glass for him - that was when he had broken the silence.

It felt nice. He was always so wonderfully warm. His skin was surprisingly soft though his fingertips were more rough probably from playing the metal strings on his guitar so often over time, but I loved the feeling of his hand against the skin on mine. I loved tracing his weird little lock tattoo and the cross one. I loved following the lines and shapes, feeling the warmth he always radiated like my own little hiccuping sun.

Wasn't it something about planets always being dragged towards their sun? I knew I did anyway.

"Just try it, bend over and put the glass to your upper lip. I promise it'll help," he didn't even seem to doubt my words for another second, as he took a look at my eyes, which were filled with seriousness - and bend over tryingly with the glass in one hand.

Chuckling I jumped onto the counter, while he managed to get the glass emptied. I had let his hand drop so he could hold the glass with both, and meanwhile I curiously sought through the cupboards again - this time looking for something else.

"Did it help?" He rose from his bended position and to my joy he had gotten some color in his cheeks from having had his head down like that.

"I think maybe it," we both waited for the usual hiccup which would come now. But there was nothing. He sent me a soft smile, "I think maybe it did."

"I'm gonna miss it though," I sent him a goofy smile, as he finally noticed the box of cereal I had in my hands, and I sent him a questioning gaze as if I could take some.

"I'm sorry about the cereal thing," Harry stated as we were back in his room.

"I actually happen to love dry cereals, and the most important thing is we cured your hiccups!" I was seated on his bed as he had insisted on, with my back up against the wall, as I watched him go around and pick up clothes, papers, and other misplaced objects which didn't belong on the floor. Not that I mind.