consume ; h.s ✓

7

⭒ October 18, 1997.

Bliss was bathing when a great epiphany came over her while she was traveling on a train full of thoughts as the hot fake rain slid down her bare skin.

She was falling for Harry.

Hard.

She felt curious, scared, anxious, excited, happy, many feelings that she would spend more than a lifetime trying to find the perfect words to describe how she feels.

But, why?

Could it be because he was the first one to make her laugh in such a long time?

Or the one that almost effortlessly made her come out of her little cave at her house?

How illecebrosus that he was?

Maybe because he was the first person to allow herself to be vulnerable again?

There were so many questions but very few answers.

Bliss simply had no idea how to explain that, perhaps, she would leave everything for him. She would give everything to him.

She would give him her strength for him to use whenever he doesn't have it.

Her arms so that he stands up whenever he falls.

Her legs for him to lay his head on.

She would give him the pieces that he put together, the pieces that make up her soul so that he never lacks anything.

Man, she would give him even a fucking kidney if he needed it due to the —kind of— alcoholic past Harry had, the one that he told her a day when they didn't slept all night because they wanted to wait to see the sunrise and have breakfast together with it.

How can you explain that to someone without sounding like a obsessive maniac?