Work Text:
Da-da-DING.
I'm ten minutes into an hour long Kool-Aid hair dye session when my screen lights up bright. Michael?
I peel my plastic gloves off carefully, black cherry staining them an evocative shade of red, toss them in the toiletside trash can.
xmrXmoonlightx:
"I'm outside.
Come out."
I raise an eyebrow to this, type out a reply.
hollowhills:
"Uh I just got my dye in
50min to go
can you come in? or"
Barely thirty seconds go by, before.
xmrXmoonlightx:
"You can rinse it at my place."
I furrow my brow. Something must be up. I checked the time. Eleven pm. Did he just get off work? My heart hammers dully in my ribcage. Was something wrong?
I sighed softly. I wasn't going to make him wait in the car for me for long. I slapped a shower cap on, covering it with a ratty beanie, before pulling a sweater over my head. Tugging on black jeans and boots haphazardly, grabbing my backpack, I crawled out my bedroom window, doubtlessly knocking over a pile of books and CDs on my way out. I'd worry about that later.
Dead leaves crunch under my boots as I trot over to Michael's car, autumn giving way to winter soon enough. The perfect season. I tap on his passenger side door before opening it.
Michael blinks up at me, huge dark eyes rimmed with darker lashes, and snatches a black plastic bag up off my seat. Sneaky motion, but a crinkle of mischief lights up his eyes. A hint of a smirk as I sit down, nestling myself in gratefully, fitting there perfectly. It was like this seat had already molded itself to the shape of my meagre ass over the couple years he'd been driving it.
"Hey. Cool look. Very avant garde." He nods at my hair dye containment measures, precarious on my head.
I snicker to myself.
"Yeah. We're going clubbing, right? Gotta look my best, lest someone mistake me for common folk."
"Oh for sure. Hell forbid someone think you're part of the rabble." His eyes glitter in the streetlight nearby, his smile wolfish and toothy with private delight. His hand reaches across, grasping my thigh before linking his bony fingers between mine. Possessive and sweet, we starve for the touch of the other. I smile, a secret, just for his eyes.
He turns off the gravel edge of the road, guiding us back towards civilization. The Chameleons on the car stereo, comforting. They always make me think of him, after all. Surprising me somewhat, we pull directly up to his house, parking at the curb as usual. I look over at him, curious, and he quirks an eyebrow at me.
"What did you expect? C'mon, I have such sights to show you."
Quoting Hellraiser? Christ, what was he planning?
Dutifully, I follow him out of the car and into the house. Familiar dinner leftover scents, spice and fish sauce and soy, waft over me. Before my stomach can growl and give me away, Michael says over his shoulder, "We can eat soon. She made enough for you, anyways."
Up up up, the stairs feel like they stretch forever, but before we reach the sanctity of his room, Michael stops me by the bathroom and hands me a black towel.
"Go rinse your hair first."
I look at the towel, then at him, perplexed.
"I've still got like...forty minutes left on it, though."
"Trust me. Just....go do it."
I cock my head. He's being so fucking cagey. For what? But I sigh and take the towel and nod, handing my backpack over to him.
"Fiiiiiiine. God forbid I get my sweet juicy hair mess on your carpet."
He snorts a laugh and disappears to his room. I watch his retreat and feel my expression soften at the faint glow of candlelight coming from within.
I turn back to my task at hand and gently push the bathroom door open. There's something sitting on the counter, the jar a stark contrast to the otherwise light-colored bathroom.
Hair dye. Manic Panic Vampire Red.
Fuck, man.
I feel my eyes well up a bit. Glad he can't see me, I pick it up and unscrew the lid, huffing it a bit. He knew I couldn't afford it OR get to the store anytime soon. Did he run there right after work? When else would he have had the time?
"Angel," I mutter under my breath. His sarcastic pet name less sarcastic now, whispered with the same conviction as curse or prayer.
I smile in secret again, knowing only he can see.