Flowers In His Hair - H.S

H.S. Flowers In His Hair - 21

But I know, yes I know we'll be alright.

Aliza

I wake up to a blood-curdling scream. My eyes shoot open, I look around disorientated. I fell asleep on the couch. Harry yells again, and my body moving before my mind can register. I fling myself into the kitchen.

I gasp in a breath. Oh wow, okay. My heart calms down when I see Harry in one piece. He's standing in the corner, palms pressed against the wall on either side of him. He's on his toes. I look at him helplessly; he has a very anxious look on his face. It seems like he's trying to push himself into the wall like he wants to disappear. "Harry." His eyes snap up. 

He points at the kitchen sink with a shaky finger. I walk to the sink slowly and peer inside, still standing away. I burst out in laughter when I see it; the little tentacles rub together as it stares at me. I turn my head to Harry.

"Is it about the living thing in the sink?" He nods in affirmation. "Harry, it's a cockroach." He gags, pushing his palm over his mouth. Why is he afraid of bugs?

 I turn back to the cockroach; it's still staring at me. I push the dustbin with my toe towards Harry without making eye contact, and I hear him scoff.

It doesn't take long until I hear him dragging the dustbin in his direction. I smirk but still don't look at him. I take a tong from the drying rack, one we used earlier cause we don't have salad spoons. I hold it in my hand, keeping it sturdy. 

I move slowly, trying to grasp the cockroach between it. It doesn't work. It moves away and speeds past me onto the counter. Harry squeals from the corner, and my shoulders are shaking from trying not to lose it right now. 

He's almost six-foot, afraid of nothing, except little critters. "Fucking kill it!" He yells; he kind of sounds possessed right now. "No, Harry, it's a living thing." The cockroach runs closer to him when I try to grab it again. " No, it's called a CREEPY crawly for a reason! Aliza, please, I'm serious!" 

He cuts himself off with another high-pitched yell, Jesus, he's got pipes. The dustbin falls over when he runs away from the corner. He jumps onto the barstool and crouches down, holding his knees. I go for the cockroach again, but it suddenly becomes airborne. 

Did it have to be a flying one?  Harry shoots onto the counter as it flies to the light. He takes his shirt off and starts swinging it towards the bug. He hits the light fixture, and the room goes dark. "No, I can't see it!"

Okay, now it's just tragic. The light flickers a couple of times and go on again. The cockroach is inches from Harry, hovering around him, and with the last swat, the bug and Harry hit the floor. I rush around to see if he's okay. 

He jumps up, still on alert, and find the bug on the counter. He grabs the closest thing to a weapon, which happens to be a spatula, and repeatedly hits the bug. "Devils fucking soldiers." He spat, not taking his eyes off the squished bug.

He turns to me and breaths for what I think maybe the first time since this whole thing started. "We're burning this place down, right now." He states, pointing around the room in a circular motion.    

I can't control my laughter at this point; it's just totally ridiculous. He's not laughing with me; Harry has a sad expression on his face. "Harry, since when are you afraid of bugs?" I ask him a little more seriously. "Since I use to sleep in places where they crawled over my skin at night." My heart walls cave in.

"Shit, I'm so sorry I laughed." I go to him and hug him. He's staring at the void, his arms limp as I hold him, and a ghostly expression covers his face. Goosebumps erupt on his skin; he's pulled into memory.