His Wild Blue Air

Day 4

Thursday

She woke up, alarmed. Something was off. Terribly off. It was seven in the morning, the usual time she was awake. But...something was off. She looked around her, trying to place what was wrong. She saw nothing out of order. She saw snowfall again in the morning. She saw the sunlight's illumination, illuminating her room with a warm glow.

Except she knew it wasn't actually warm because it was snowing - she just turned on the heater for the night.

She then pushed herself to sit upright on the bed, still bleary from the morning. She watched as Dog thumped his tail on the bedsheets repeatedly, panting at her, tongue lolling out. Now, that was weird. She had never seen Dog this excited in the morning. She looked around again, seeing if she missed anything.

Nope.

And then she sniffed. She frowned, thinking, there it is.

Food. She smelled food. She smelled food in her sleep and she woke up from the smell. She couldn't believe herself. However, there was another pressing matter. Why could she smell food? Who would make food in her house except her?

"Can't be him," she muttered when she remembered that she had a guest.

She threw her covers back and hurriedly pulled on a robe, slipping on her slippers with bunny heads on it and swung the door open. She descended the stairs and headed into the kitchen. It was him.

Ethan was laying out breakfast as she entered the room. He looked up, alarmed at first, but quickly replaced by a cheerful smile. He flourished at the plates on the table.

"Breakfast is served!" he announced in baritone.

She blinked, and blinked, and blinked. She tried to overcome the shock plaguing her but she just couldn't. She stared at the eggs and bacon and porridge and she just couldn't say anything. She just exhaled a disbelieving breath and ran a hand through her hair.

She wondered if she was dreaming. She wondered if she was seeing things wrong. After all, she wasn't wearing any glasses. She pinched herself on her forearm and felt the pain. Okay, she was seeing things right. So Ethan did actually make breakfast.

"In all of five years, I haven't had anyone make me breakfast until today," she whispered in disbelief. Ethan looked curious but he pulled out a chair for her wordlessly. She sat down obediently. "Wait, I think I should walk Dog first." She stood up but Ethan pushed her back down.

"Dog can wait," he said patiently. "Now, it is a belief that food doesn't taste good once it goes cold. So, tuck in."

She held the utensils in her hand but didn't tuck in. She stared at him with caution. "What is your intention?" she demanded.

He sat down opposite her and sent her an innocent look. "I have no intention."

She narrowed her eyes at him and he just shrugged and dug into his food. She figured she wouldn't be able to pry anything out of him so she started anything.

The blanch was on her face before she could stop it. His face dropped when he saw it. She figured she couldn't hide it anyway so she dropped the utensils and forced herself to swallow. She then leaned back, sending the man a disbelieving look.

"It is not that bad," Ethan protested.

She released a teasing laugh and nodded her head. "It is that bad."

He frowned and looked down at his fork which had eggs pierced to it. He then cautiously placed into his mouth. A roar of laughter sounded in the room when he instantly spat it out, coughing exaggeratedly. She covered her mouth as she shook with laughter. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, a scowl on his face. She sighed with a smirk and stood up, gathering the plates and loading them all in the dishwasher.