(DISCONTINUED)

○ 3.4 :: Early Mornings ○

Dedicated to Caroline (idk I'm guessing that's your name bc i forgot to ask) because it's her birthday and that's really cool because she was born the same day and year as mine :)

I'm officially fifteen today woooo

I was supposed to wait until it was exactly midnight here to post this bc I finished it early and wanted to post this on the 30th but I fell asleep and now it's nearly 4 in the morning so... :)

There is nothing exciting about being fifteen but whatever bc if I was hispanic I'd be celebrating my quinceañera so l8r h8rz

Quite a few people guessed right so congrats and thank you to all the people who wished me a happy birthday :D

*

It was dark, practically pitch black. The only thing I could really see were the shadowy outlines of Harry's furniture, but the quiet sound of Harry's slow breathing made me feel safe and protected even though he was asleep. It was ridiculous considering everything I knew, but I didn't think there would ever be a time when I didn't feel safe around him - even when he was mad. Now all those times he'd been angry and had avoided looking at me, or tried his best to calm himself down made perfect sense. Everything Harry ever did was with the intention of protecting me, even if it was from himself.

I had woken up back in the bed I'd so desperately escaped from earlier and I'd been sat up since then, just staring into the distance at nothing in particular and thinking over everything that had happened this afternoon. Although it hadn't been nice to hear, I was thankful for Harry's honesty; I knew that he would do anything to save whatever relationship it was that we had, but it was sweet that he was willing to put that aside to make sure I knew what I was dealing with.

I still hadn't the foggiest idea what I was dealing with.

Hearing the entire story had changed a lot of things. Whilst it gave me a much wider perspective, I was also at a bigger loss on what to do. I wanted to be with Harry the Big-Softie-With-Walls-and-Trust-Issues - be it romantically or as friends - but I didn't wanted to be with Harry the Cold-Blooded Killer. I couldn't lie and say that I hadn't been about to give in after hearing Gemma's story, because I had. As soon as he'd finished telling me about the time he'd accidentally killed his sister with a power he hadn't asked for nor known about, I had been completely ready to forgive him and jump into his arms like the pathetic romantic I was. I guess that was why Harry had forced me to listen to the rest, whether I liked it or not: it was easy to romanticize the killing of his sister, but neither of us could deny that every death after that was completely unforgiveable. I understood that an event like Gemma's death could have traumatic effects, but how could you simply not care? How could you listen to somebody's cries of panic and fear and kill them in cold blood without a second thought? How could I ever look past that?

"Are you okay?"

I jumped slightly, then glanced down to find Harry blinking up at me. Sighing, I returned my gaze to the wall opposite us.

Although he'd been careful not to touch me and put some space between us when were sleeping, now Harry's hand fell to my knee, easily made accessible to him by the fact I was sitting with my legs crossed. "Kat?"

"I don't like when you call me that," I said quietly.

Harry sat up, so he was next to me against the headboard. "Sorry," he apologized. "What's wrong?"

Everything. "Nothing," I sighed, tugging at a stray curl. "Just thinking."

He hesitated. "About today?"