Flowers In His Hair - H.S

H.S. Flowers In His Hair - 4

Hi! Please enjoy!

Also, maybe a slight trigger warning?

***

Oh momma, don't fuss over me. - Cherry wine. Hozier.

I wake up gasping. I let out an agonizing scream that leaves my throat raw. No...NO, please NO!

The dream is still clinging to me. I still smell the roses in my hand; I see them fall to the ground. I feel everything all over again, the unsuspected sadness that washes over me.

I know what's coming. The impending doom creeps closer; it has me by the throat.

I can see lips moving, but I can't make out the words because my ears are ringing. I can't do this anymore, Harry; it's not supposed to be this serious. It was for me.

I shoot up into a sitting position, slamming my palms over my ears; please go away. I rock back and forth from the force of the memories because that's what they are, memories. I was such a fucking fool back then.

Sweat is dripping from my hairline, soaking into my neck.

You don't know what love is. I do; I'll fucking show you. I shoot from my bed and stalk to the bathroom.

I walk up and down in the small space, my eyes land on my reflection—Jesus, what happened to you. There are only dull orbs staring back at me in the place where sparkling green eyes use to reside. They're cold as ice, and I recognize them; it's the same eyes from four years ago that's staring at me again.

My damp hair is pushed back out of my face; it's not the golden mane she promised. My cheeks are hollow, and my face is pale. Is this what people see every day. You're going down that road again.

I step closer, coming nose to nose with myself. Look at you; you're already dead. I grab the counter for support and look down, breathing in short gasps. When I look up, my reflection is gone, replaced by my worst nightmare. Tell me you're mine, Harry. "I'm yours always, and you're mine? " It always comes as a question because I never know.

The ghost in front of me is silent, just like I expected. My palms are open, but I never get the same grace back.

I close my eyes, ready for the blow. Blood is rare, but it leaves a taste of cherry wine. I inhale sharply. I drift to another memory.

Baby... Cherry blossom, come here. I do it because I'm in love. I grab the first thing I can, a vase my mother bought me, and hurl it into the wall.

The ceramic's shatter disperses the last haze of my dreams, and I fall back with a sob. I cover my eyes with the back of my hands; my body shakes from the cries that escape my mouth. I should have known. I slide down the counter.

It's over; for now, I breathe in slowly. It's over. I palm my cheek; it's wet from tears. I'll never be able to love someone like I'm supposed to.

I get up after a while and walk to my room, falling onto my bed. My body is tired, I lay in ashes, and the tide washing over me confirms it.

I've been lucky these last couple of months. I took extra hours at the bakery to exhaust myself to the point of passing out, and I have Lisa; she's my calmness.

She smothers the darkness with her melodies. I also didn't have the chance to get drunk enough last night—rookie mistake. I shudder as my body starts to calm down; I take a couple of deep breaths and roll on my side.

I blindly reach for my phone; it's 6 am in the fucking morning. I throw it next to me on the bed and fold a pillow around me. The chance of getting another nightmare is slim, and I'm not ready to face the day.