VIOLET'S POV

I woke up early the next morning in my own bed, next to Harry. I started to panick. I noticed then that he was a safe distance away from me, and all our clothes were on, so my panick evaporated. The sunlight was bright but comforting as it bled through my white linen curtains. I decided I would let Harry sleep longer, and went to the living room to cleanup the mess I was sure still existed.

The heat kicked on in the night, so despite the blinding blanket of snow outside the window I was comfortable in shorts and a Tshirt. To my surprise everything was where it belonged. The blanket was folded and placed neatly on the left arm of the sofa. The movie was placed neatly on the coffee table with the remote next to it, and the TV was off. In the kitchen, the gummy bear bag was wrapped up and on the counter. The dishes were in the sink, rinsed, and the ramen wrapper I left out was gone. Oh how I loved that boy.

I decided to make a big breakfast for us to show my gratitude and love for him. I made pancakes and eggs, and bacon. The eggs were done, the bacon had two minutes left, and I was finishing up the pancakes when I felt a hand on my right side.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Well, you cleaned up my living room last night, carried me to my bed, stayed with me, took me out, and are just an amazing person so I thought I'd show you how thankful I am it have you," I told him, trying to keep it joking sounding, but I suspected he knew I wasn't joking. "Oh, and when I'm not around other people I eat enough to feed two grown men."

He laughed. "Well thank you." He sat down at the small table. I plopped a plate full of food in front of him.

"Thirsty?" I winked.

He laughed. "You know it." I went the the fridge and pulled out a half gallon of orange juice. I poured him a glass, and then myself. I made myself a plate about two thirds the size of his. I sat down and started to eat.

We ate in silence for a while, the sound of forks hitting ceramic plates a calming serranade. Just sitting their eating wasn't at all awkward, which I was thankful for. No words really needed to be said at the moment, but my subconscious was nagging at me to ask about the strange incident on the swing. I desperately wanted to make sure he was okay. I had never seen anyone look like that before. His face was horror struck, ghostly white and sheeted in sweat. His eyes were dull and lifeless, like he was witnessing something of the most unholy torture. I hoped I wasn't the cause of that. And then, when I asked him, he immediately silenced me. Was he afraid to tell me? How could I get it out of him, and soon? What if next time it was worse. Maybe it was a seizure? I knew different people experienced them in different ways. Why would he be afraid to tell me about that? Seizures were serious and if we were planning to spend time with eachother, I needed to know how to help him if that were to happen again.

I was scared of his reaction to my asking though. He wasn't the Harry I knew when he silenced me. He was short, angry, and lifeless. What if next time he really snapped? Or what if I chased him away? I cared about him, and I wanted him to be okay, to be able to trust me.

All the while thinking this, I realized, do I trust him? We really have only met. What if we were taking this too fast? I know I had held myself back last night, and that was out of fear. What if I couldn't trust him yet? I couldn't possibly expect him to confide in me his deepest secrets without knowing if I were to share my own.

I was now very nervous. I knew what happened to people who rushed into love. It didn't end well. People got hurt, or gave their all to the other, only to receive nothing in return. What if we were like that?

But, what's the harm in simply dating him? As long as I didn't shove my tongue down his throat and rip off his pants I could ease into this. I wouldn't let him do anything to me either, not that he would. He's a good person, and I'm nothing special.

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