Fervor.

eight.

***unedited; sorry***

Vanessa's POV

My alarm wakes me up and I groan in exhaustion; I didn’t sleep well. Slowly, I become aware of noise coming from the kitchen, forks and plates scraping. Instantly, I rush out to the kitchen in a panic, confused as to who has invaded my apartment.

As soon as my eyes land on the man placing omelets and bacon on two plates, waves of my memory flood my mind. Clearly, I’d completely forgotten that I, now, have a roommate. Nonetheless, I’m still bewildered by the sight.

I yawn and stretch, “Harry…what are you doing?”

“Good morning,” he looks up and shoots me a dimpled grin “I’ve made breakfast.”

I eye him wearily, “Why – Harry – you didn’t have to do that,” I tell him and he shrugs before taking a seat.

The curtains of the living room are pulled back and the bright sunlight shines over his tall frame, dressed in a forest green jumper. Disappointment fills me for the simple reason of not being greeted by his smooth inked chest. Seeing his tattoos and hard chest would be a great way to wake up in the morning. I mentally slap myself for having such a thought. Stop it, no Van, no.

I grab the plate he prepared for me and begin eating. Much to my surprise, it’s delicious, “This is amazing, Harry,”

Harry goes back into the kitchen, “Thanks, I learnt from my mum.” he smiles proudly, reminding me of the grouchy old woman and I’m surprised they’re related.

“How do you like your coffee?” he questions as he pours two cups

“I…I don’t drink coffee” I say guiltily. He already made the drink; I should’ve just downed the cup just so his effort doesn’t go to waste. What? “It’s okay, though. I’ll just make myself some hot chocolate” I add

He raises a brow, “You’d rather hot chocolate?”

“Yeah, coffee never appealed to me,”

“I’ll remember that next time,” he says, and I smile. Maybe having a roommate isn’t so bad…if it means having them make a delicious breakfast every morning.

It’s quiet for a few moments, and I can’t help but speak as I stir my drink, “How come you’re so…nice?”

He’s basically done his meal while I’m nowhere near done, “I made breakfast; not a big deal. Plus, I figured I must do something else other than pay for groceries”

I sigh, “Harry, you don’t have to. Really.”

“I’m not having this conversation again.”

I roll my eyes and check the time; we’ll be late if we don’t hurry. I head to my room and throw on warm clothes, and then I put light concealer under my eyes – like every day – and brush my hair, “Harry, we have to go now,” I call as I finish up

I step out to the living room and once again, Harry manages to knock the air out of my lungs. Of course, he’s in a fucking suit. A dark charcoal one at that, with a crisp white button up. His hair is perfectly gelled back, and his rings are missing from his delicate long fingers. He’s busy fixing his tie, not acknowledging my presence, his face hard in concentration, and I gulp. Why did I end up with this guy for a roommate? Why does he have to work where I do?

“Harry,” I squeak, “Um, you know you don’t have to wear a suit. They don’t really care in the department that we work in”

He nods, “I know. I just don’t think it’s professional.”