good heart | r.h

• seven •

A yawn escapes my lips as I turn away from the sun shining through the blinds, the bright light waking me up from the minimal amount sleep I got last night. I snuggle deeper into my blankets, my eyes reluctantly opening to focus on the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. 7:23 AM.

Pulling my hand out from the sweet warmth of my comforter, I reach over and grab my glasses off the nightstand. I sit up from my sleeping position, slipping my glasses over my eyes to only then notice the sleeping figure next to me.

I look down, my teeth already nibbling against my bottom lip as I see Grayson, his hair a floppy mess on his head, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling so peacefully. Grayson was his best when he wasn't awake. When he went to asleep at night, I'll just lay next to him, absorbing the blissful silence and take in the few hours I had to just think without being interrupted.

After a moment, I let out a small sigh before throwing the blankets off of my body, carefully slipping out of the bed so I wouldn't wake up Grayson. My feet land against the cold hardwood, sending goose bumps across my skin as my arms wrap around my waist for some kind of warmth.

I shuffle over to the bedroom door, slowly pulling it open to prevent the hinges from creaking before walking out. I make my way down the hall and into the kitchen, my hands finding their way into my hair as I pull it into a ponytail. As I wrap my hair tie around the tangled mess, I walk over to the cupboard where the baking tools were held.

I pull the cabinet open, grabbing some pancake mix, measuring cups, and measuring spoons before shutting it. I place my supplies on the counter, turning on the stove as I pass by to grab the pan hanging up above the island. 

Every Saturday, when Grayson and I are both off, I made him breakfast in the morning. It was a tradition that started early in our relationship, but as the years have gone by, it feels more like a rule I'm held to then something nice to do for my love. Nevertheless, it made Grayson happy, and cooking helped me relax so it was a win win situation.

I hum quietly, spinning from the fridge and back to the counter as I collect my supplies, dropping them into the bowl in front of me. After measuring out all the ingredients in the bowl, I stir the pancake mix for a bit until pouring my first circle into the pan. 

The mixture sizzled against the hot surface, the smell filling my lungs with delight as I hear the shower in the other room turn on. I feel my stomach turn in my gut, but I simply shove my anxiety into the back of my mind, knowing I had about fifteen minutes to spare before he would be entering the kitchen.

I found myself becoming lost in thought after more and more pancakes slid off the pan and onto the plate sitting next to me. My hum slowly turned into a singing softly under my breath, my weight shifting from beneath me because it still hurt to stand too long in the same place. 

It wasn't until the last pancake slid off the pan I heard the chair to the island screech across the tile floor, causing me to jump. I quickly turn around, seeing Grayson take his usual seat at the island, running a hand through his wet hair. 

"Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?" I ask, quickly placing the pan into the sink before grabbing a hold of the plate of pancakes. 

"Good, how about you baby?" He asks, his eyes staring up at me as I place the pancakes in front of him, my other hand placing the silverware down next to the plate.

"I could've slept better, but it is what it is." I say, a small smile curving my lips as I walk back over towards the fridge, grabbing the cup I had laid out as I passed.

Pulling open the fridge, I grab the milk carton and twist off the cap before pouring the liquid into the glass. I quickly twist the cap back on, placing the carton back into the fridge before walking back over to Grayson, who already dug into pancakes.