meraki.

Shake It Off!

If there was something Anna hated more than the peaceful silence she had experienced at Mrs.Orlando's home - which was considered a blessing by the general public - it was the awkward, filled with  a rather weird tension silence that was looming in the air the following morning, when she walked into the kitchen, still in her pyjamas. 

She felt it as she silently padded to the counter, trying to act nonchalantly about the fact she was only wearing her fuzzy socks that reached way past her knee, and not slippers - which was one of the main rules Harry had set when she had spent her first night in his house; she felt it as she opened the fridge, looking for something to put in her stomach and settling on the artificial orange juice - which, she realized, had been bought specifically for her, since Harry didn't drink the already bottled ones, preferring to make them himself; she felt it as she poured herself a glass of said juice, her back to the kitchen counter, debating whether or not making herself a sandwich was a good idea or not - she ended up deciding to make herself a small sandwhich, knowing it would've gave her a heartburn paired with the orange juice; she felt it as she padded around the kitchen counter, silently climbing on her stool after putting her plate and glass in front of her, producing a rather loud and clinking noise - even though it was the atmosphere that made it resonate more than it would've on a normal day. 

The worst part of it all was that that atmosphere radiated from only one person in the room, who was sitting opposite of her at the kitchen counter, his gaze locked on his phone screen, his breakfast half-eaten in front of him - the inevitable five almonds silenltly judging Anna and her sandwich - his jaw clenched as he scrolled his thumb over the phone screen. 

He hadn't looked up to acknowledge her presence when she had got out of her room, he hadn't flinched when she had made herself her breakfast, and he hadn't greeted her when she had sat down at the kitchen counter, nor minded the loud clinking of the plate and glass. 

His posture was tense as Anna brought the sandwich to her mouth to take the first bite, almost as if he was trying his best to ignore her presence. 

To be fair, Anna didn't know what had gotten Harry so pressed - both her and Dom had noticed his change of attitude the previous night and how he had slammed his bedroom's door when he had finally departed from them. Dom had just shrugged, saying that whenever he would've felt comfortable enough to talk about whatever was troubling him he would've, and that trying to force him to give them informations at that time would've been of no use and would've just pissed him off even more. To that, Anna had to agree, because she understood perfectly, being like that herself. 

But, right in that moment, sitting at the counter, slowly chewing her bite, being careful to not bite her cheek in the process, Anna started to feel like Harry's mood was her fault, and no one else's. Him not greeting her had been a small clue pointing in that direction. 

But why would he be angry at me? she thought to herself, glancing at her dangling legs. Could it be about the socks? was the sudden idea that struck her, but she quickly shook her head, deeming herself as dumb for even thinking about that. She refused to believe that socks could get Harry that pressed. 

After all, perhaps, Harry wasn't even irritated with her and she was reading too much into the whole situation: perhaps he had had a bad night out and hadn't slept well, and wasn't in the mood, and that was all. 

There was only one way to find out. 

Trying to discreetly clear her throat, Anna placed her sandwich on the plate and took a deep breath before rehearsing what she planned to do in her head, step by step. Then she bit her bottom lip, counted to three and finally went on.

"Hi, goodmorning." - she said, doing her best to give Harry a small friendly smile. 

Harry swiftly raised his gaze, finally acknowledging her presence, gave her a curt nod and went back to scrolling through his phone without a single word.