melt with you || h.s

.01

It was just after one in the morning when the entire building was evacuated and the emergency vehicles with their flashing lights and piercing sirens had pulled into the lot. The air was cold, the wind whipped around, biting at any exposed skin, and the tenants’ annoyance was clear.

 

Willow hadn’t intentionally set her microwave on fire and almost burn down her kitchen. She surely didn’t mean to fall asleep while heating up some leftovers and wake up to her apartment filled with smoke. And she definitely wasn’t trying to cause the entire building to despise her the second week she moved in.

 

“You know, burning down the building is no way to introduce yourself,” someone said with a laugh, causing Willow to turn too quickly and fall into a pair of tattooed arms.

 

Looking up and pushing away from the man, she laughed, “Sorry, I’m a bit drunk.”

 

“That’s all right,” he grinned. “I’m Harry, by the way. I live across the hall from you.”

 

Willow pointed her finger at him and poked his chest, “You’re the one who’s got girls leaving your place at all hours of the night. Some older ladies were talking ‘bout you in the elevator.”

 

Harry chuckled and ran a hand through his messy hair, “Nice to meet you, too.”

 

“Oh, right. I’m Willow,” she said with a drunken smile as she held out her hand.

 

He shook her hand, and Willow couldn’t help but giggle at the way his hand practically enveloped her own. It was warm, though, and she almost forgot to pull away.

 

“Willow Tate?” A fireman said, clearing his throat.

 

“That’s me,” Willow’s smile brightened as she straightened her back and dropped Harry’s hand.

 

“You’re very lucky, Ms. Tate. Your apartment suffered minor damage, and the apartments adjacent to you suffered none. You are going to need some repairs, though. And you probably don’t want to stay the rest of the night in there,” he said, showing the slightest bit of grief.

 

“Well, fuck,” she pouted, crossing her arms over chest.

 

The fireman didn’t really know how to respond to Willow and Willow just stood there with a pout on her lips and eyes trained on him.

 

“She’ll be fine,” Harry cut in. “Thank you.”

 

By the time the emergency vehicles and their lights and sirens had departed and the crowd had started to make their way back inside, Willow and Harry were lying on the grass looking up at the sky.

 

“Everyone’s gone inside,” Harry noticed as he propped himself up on his elbows.

 

Willow mimicked his movements and too, propped herself up on her elbows, and looked over towards the apartment building where not one person stood outside. “They hate me already. Usually takes a month or so. Never the second week.”

 

Harry smiled at her, “Don’t worry about it. They’re a lot of grumps, is what they are. Don’t know how to have a little fun.”

 

Willow laughed, “Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.”

 

Harry stood, brushed off his pants, and pulled a now slightly more sober Willow to her feet. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”

 

As soon as she was at her door, Willow could smell the smoke and burnt plastic. She turned to Harry who was trying his best at a smile. “Wish me luck,” she laughed, pulling her shirt over her nose.

 

Inside, her light was on and her windows were open. The smell lingered and Willow stopped and leaned against the wall at the entryway of her kitchen.

 

Where her microwave once sat, was a pile of melted plastic and wires. The counters and the wall, which were both once a clean white, were now a burnt black. The stove was blackened by the fire. The left side of the fridge was slightly melted, but otherwise untouched by the flames. She opened it, but it was off, unplugged to prevent further fires. She closed it and walked out of the kitchen.

 

The smell followed her to her room, even after she closed the door. It clung to the duvet on her bed and the clothes in her closet. It was sour and it stung her throat. She ran from her room, and ran from her apartment.

 

When Harry opened his door, wide-eyed and confused, Willow’s hands were shaking.

 

“Willow?”

 

“I can’t be in there. It’s suffocating.”

 

“Come in.”