I groan, gripping Arlo’s hair tightly. He whines, though he tries to act nonchalant. It’s about time we tackled his outgrown roots, and since it was peaceful yesterday, why not do it today while we’re having some semblance of peace?
With a deep sigh, I finish adding the last bits of bleach to the bottom part of his scalp, and the outgrown roots have processed already. I put the dirty brush into the bowl, then into the sink, and run my fingers throughout his hair, massaging the bleach in.
Arlo’s eyes close, and he hums in appreciation. AsI drag my fingers down gently, I can’t help but notice how long his hair is. When we met, it was neatly trimmed, with the top part of his hair longer. Now, all of it is long. If he were to straighten it, it would reach his shoulders.
“Your hair really grew a lot.”
“If it bothers you, grab scissors and chop it all off.”
I chuckle. “No, definitely not. I love it. I think this length suits you.”
He tilts his head backward, looking up at me. He grins, the diamond tooth gem shining under the bathroom lighting. My heart skips a beat at the expression, and I bend down to peck his lips briefly.
Arlo all but pouts when I pull back. Amusement fills me, and I take off the gloves, toss them into the trash can, and turn toward him, straddling his hips. He’s sitting on a small stool in the middle of the bathroom, and I don’t even want to know how the small chair is supporting both of our weights.
His hands immediately land on my hips, and he’s looking at me like he used to. Before all of this mess officially started. I press a soft kiss to his cheek, hands curling around the cotton shirt.
The little peace of mind we’ve had since yesterday won’t last forever. There are too many things we need to discuss, and I fear bringing it up first.
“What’s on your mind, butterfly?”
“A lot of things,” I sigh, half-exasperated.
“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
A blush creeps up to my cheeks, and I clear my throat, trying to act unaffected by his words. Arlo smirks in response but doesn’t tease me. Well, not verbally, at least. His eyes tell me everything I need to know.
“Well… How are you doing? It’s tomorrow.”
Arlo’s face turns somber at the reminder. Tomorrow, we’re burying Luna. She deserves a proper burial, and since Luna’s bodywould’ve decayed, Aria had her cremated. The funeral is more of a symbolic nature, for all of them to get a proper goodbye.
Sadness fills Arlo’s eyes, and he smiles, though it’s forced. My heart aches at the sight, and I know there are no words in this world that would lessen the pain he’s feeling. The guilt ripples through me, and yet again, I feel like I’m just fucking his life up more.
Everything started because of me. Luna’s dead because of me. Noelle’s not waking up, and her state isn’t improving. Hudson’s in prison, and I hear that he’s slowly losing his patience. Not that the man ever had any; he’s the least patient person I’ve ever met.
“I’m alright.’’ Arlo lies, and I can tell the facade is crumbling. “The worst part will be telling Mom. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it.”
My hand reaches for his, and I intertwine our fingers together, giving him a firm squeeze. “You’re not alone, Arlo. I’ll be right there, every step of the way.”
“I know.” He kisses my forehead, and something in me melts. “Thank you, butterfly.”
“Don’t thank me,’’ I mumble, watching as Arlo makes some distance between us. His eyes dart all over my face, soaking me in. If anyone else were to look at me like that, I’d either be extremely uncomfortable or get self-conscious. But when it’s Arlo, all I feel is being seen.
He sees me for who I am, for what I need, not for my past. It’s thanks to him that I learned not to let the past define me. Fucking hell, I’m whipped for this man, and I’ll never get tired of the look of pure softness he’s giving me.
“I should wash this off,” Arlo comments. “It’s getting itchy.”
“Alright,” I smile, kissing the tip of his nose, then getting off his lap. The window’s slightly opened, letting the cold, winterair in. “I’ll fix up your toner.”
Arlo bends over the tub, eyes closed as he washes out the bleach from his hair. I don’t think my hair would’ve survived being bleached as many times as his. The ends of his hair are in pristine condition. There’s not even a slight breakage. I’m jealous.
I follow the instructions on the box carefully, humming a soft tune as I stir everything in a clean bowl. Silence surrounds us, but it’s the comfortable kind. Silence used to wreck me, haunt me, and kill me on the inside. Now, I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of eternity with Arlo in silence. Because there’s no need for us to speak, the actions are speaking for themselves.
Arlo finishes washing his hair, rubbing the excess water off with a towel. He slings it over his shoulder, then wraps his arms around my waist from behind. He pulls me into him, his face buried in the crook of my neck. My body heats again, and I remind myself that there’s no time for any of the dirty thoughts that are sneaking their way into my head.
We barely slept last night. I don’t even want to think about the amount of times we did it, and I’m still pretty sore.
“Arlo.”
