“Come on, please cooperate.” You whined, fumbling through your purse for your apartment key. Shifting the bags hanging from your arms, you tried one more time to reach your key. Closing your eyes, you felt your fingers graze against the familiar feel of metal. Snatching them from the confines of your purse, you slid the key into the lock and twisted the knob. Pushing the door open with your foot, you threw the bags on the counter and rested your forehead on the surface and closed your eyes, only to feel the crawling sensation over your skin again.
“Oh, no.” Shooting upright you ripped open one of the bags and retrieved a Lysol wipe to clean the surface you’d just touched. Satisfied that it was decontaminated, you threw the wipe in the trash. Shaking your head, you itched at your arms fighting against the sensation on little legs crawling across your body. “You didn’t even touch her, Y/N.” Reaching into one of the other bags you grabbed the lice shampoo and made your way towards the bathroom. Yes, but what if one of the lice was on that chair you sat on. You might have brought it home. The thought ground you to a halt and sent you instead in the direction of the laundry room. Shucking off your ‘contaminated’ clothes, you tossed them into the machine and closed the lid. If you don’t start the machine now, it might crawl out, and you don’t want Steve to get headlice, do you? Wringing your hands, you reached for the laundry detergent, and pouring a cap full in, pushed the start button. Satisfied that you’d averted that crisis, you grabbed the shampoo again and headed through the bedroom.
Flipping on the light switch in the bathroom, you placed the shampoo on the counter and looked in the mirror. Leaning forward you inspected your scalp. Was it just you, or had your scalp begun itching horridly. What if a lice jumped off your head and is now on your bedsheets? Stiffening, you peaked into the bedroom and narrowed your eyes to the bed. Again, the sensation of tiny legs skittering over your skin had you clawing at your arms. “I should wash my hair first.” You mused to yourself, itching your scalp with your nails until you winced. Turning on the hot water, you opened the shampoo box and hopped in the shower. The instructions had said no more than 15 minutes. “At least 30 minutes to be safe.” You wrinkled your nose at the scent of the shampoo you were lathering in your hair. not many minutes had passed when you felt a tingling sensation on your scalp.
“Much better.” You closed your eyes and embraced the pungent scent of chemicals. “Chemicals are a girl’s best friend.” You muttered to yourself, leaning further into the water stream. Reaching for your favorite body wash, you began to lather and rinse. Your phone alarm went off, informing you that 30 minutes had passed. Running your fingers through your wet hair, you rubbed your scalp thoroughly to prevent residue build up on your scalp. Yes, but what about all that fabric and upholstery. Reaching for the towel, you happened to look down at the shower floor and gasped. A red substance that had looked like blood was under your nails and running down the bath drain. Running the towel lightly over your scalp, you hissed at the pain. A glance in the mirror showed the angry red blossoming over your scalp. There might be lice in the living room.
“No, no, I came straight to the bathroom.” Muttering to yourself, you nonetheless hopped into action, stripping not only the bed of it’s bedding but also stripping down the curtains. “The washing machine’s still going.” If you leave them on the floor, the lice might crawl out. Shaking your head, you instead head towards the fireplace where you deposited the bedding with an exasperated huff. Lighting one of the matches you two left on the mantle, you threw it in and watched what was left of your laundry shrivel and crackle. There still might be lice. The itching sensation spread from the crown of your head to the souls of your feet. This drew a sob from deep in your chest and drove you to your knees. Folding your arms around your legs, you stared into the flames and cried. At least when you looked at the flames, you didn’t feel like the walls were closing in on you.
“Sweetheart?” The front door creaked open slowly. So lost were you in your spiral, that you failed to hear your boyfriend’s voice. “Darling?” You flinched when the overhead lights were flicked on. Turning you saw Steve standing behind the couch, takeout bag and flowers in hand. He was always a sight for sore eyes.
“Steven.” You breathed, trying to hold in another sob. All it took was for Steve’s expression to soften and you could feel your resolve crumble. Dropping your face into your hands, you began sobbing uncontrollably. Placing the bag and flowers on the counter Steve rounded the couch and knelt next to you.
“Are you alright, darling?” He whispered, reaching out a hand to touch your forehead. If he touches you, he might get it. You jumped back and wrapped your arms more firmly about yourself. “Did something happen at work?” Steve leaned back on the balls of his feet and cocked his head to the side. Resting your forehead against your folded arms, you merely nodded. Steve’s eyes flickered to the deep red scratches running up and down your arms. “I’ll be right back, angel.” Steve walked into the bedroom and closed the bathroom door. Before you knew it, the sound of running water had dissipated and Steve reemerged from the bathroom in a faded pair of jogging pants.
“Come on, sweetheart.” Steve scooped you up into his arms and carried you back to the bedroom. He gently laid you on the freshly made bed. “I’ll be just a minute,” You reached out a hand to stop him. Steve paused and looked down at you.
“Please stay.” Your bottom lip trembled on the plea. Steve sighed and climbed onto the bed. As soon as he slid to sit against the headboard, you clambered into his lap and curled against his chest. Steve wrapped his burly arms around you as if he were trying to block out the world. Exhausted from the crying and anxiety, you felt your eyes getting heavy.
“Get some sleep, sweetheart.” Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” You found yourself being lulled to sleep by the steady beat of his heart. Whether it was just a few minutes or several hours later, you woke and reached out a hand for your superhuman heating blanket, only to find yourself alone in bed. Rolling over, you opened your eyes and adjusted to the dim light. The strong smell of the chemicals had been all but annihilated by the candles Steve had lit. Taking in a comforting breath of the vanilla scent, you stretched your arms over your head only to realize that you were now wearing one of Steve’s biggest sweatshirts.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Steve entered the bedroom with the takeout bag.
“Hi.” Giving him a weak smile, you shuffled back against the headboard and made room for him to climb onto the bed. “From that Thai place you like.” He pulled a white carton out of the bag and opened it for you. Steve held out the carton, but you motioned for him to place it to the side. As soon as the carton left his hands, you tackled him in a bone crushing hug. “I missed you.” Steve wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your neck.
“I missed you too, sweetheart.” Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his and sniffled. “Do you want to talk about it?” Closing your eyes, you shook your head. Cocking your head to the side, you regarded Steve. “Is there something on my face?” He raised a brow at you. Shaking your head again, you looped your arms loosely around his neck.
“I’m a screw up, Steve, you deserve better.” You watched as a muscle ticked in Steve’s jaw. With a surprised squeak you were unceremoniously placed on Steve’s lap.
“Darling,” Steve gently took your chin between two fingers and turned your face to look at his. “You’re not a screw up, sweetheart, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Oh, Steve.” Winding your arms around his neck you pulled his face towards yours.
“We fight our demons together, Y/N.” He said resolutely, searching your eyes before pulling you in for a kiss. Fisting the material of his shirt, you wove the fingers of your free hand through his hair and angled his face to deepen the kiss. You allowed this to go on until you could not longer breath. Pushing against his shoulder, you motioned towards the take out and settled for curling against him and hitting play on a movie.
“Steven?
“Hmm?” He hummed around a mouthful of pad thai.
‘I don’t know what psychosis brought you to me, Steven, but I’m not letting you go.”