DARK GANG

Chapter 121: Slay

[SLAY]

LUNA'S P. O. V

I found myself standing in front of Panotchi after barging into his office. He opened the door just as I was about to knock it down with my persistent pounding.

"What are you doing here, Ms. Velasquez?" He asked, bewildered, following me as I barged in, searching for scissors.

"Pahiram ako ng gunting. Wala akong mahanap na gunting sa kwarto namin," sagot ko sa kaniya habang nag-iikot-ikot sa office niya. Just as I was about to grab the cabinet handle, he was already in front of me.

"Aanuhin mo ang gunting?"

"Magpuputol ako ng buhok," simpleng sagot ko.

"What?"

"Baka kakalbuhin ka," I answered sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"What?!" He yelped, his eyes widening in horror as his hands instinctively flew to his hair.

"Pahiram na ng gunting! Dali na!" I tried to push him aside, but he braced himself, planting his hands on either side of the cabinet. "No way! You're not shaving my head!"

"Shunga nito! Buhok ko ang puputulan ko, hindi 'yang natitira mong buhok!"

"Sabi mo—"

Frustrated, I raised my clenched fist in the air. "Shhh! Scissors. Now."

"Why do you need to cut your hair?" he asked, stress evident in his voice.

"This is what you do when you're broken. You go for a short haircut," I explained, my eyes now focused on his hands still gripping the cabinet.

"Are you broken?" he asked, finally stepping aside, concern softening his tone.

Wow, alam niya ang tungkol dito? Amazing! Tangina hahaha.

"Yes," I answered quickly, not wanting to elaborate. Eunice's heart is broken, so I'm broken too. And where do the heartbroken go? To the salon, or in my situation, to Panotchi because we don't have scissors in our room.

We should all be cutting our hair together since I'm about to suggest it, but I'll go first to set an example.

"Huh? Who broke your heart?" Panotchi asked, his curiosity piqued. Napakatsismoso nitong panot na 'to.

"Shhh..." I shushed him as I opened the cabinet. A smile spread across my face when I spotted a pair of scissors. "Akin na muna 'to," I declared triumphantly before facing him, suddenly remembering something. "Do you have a comb?"

He didn't answer immediately, so I frowned. "You still have hair, that's why I call you Panotchi and not Kalbochi, so of course, you must have a comb. Akin na."

"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He was clearly stressed out. Boom! Stress ang lolo niyo.

"Huwag kang magmura riyan. Just give me the comb," I said, extending my hand. He blinked at my outstretched palm and walked to his desk. He opened a small cabinet behind him and placed the comb on his desk. "Umalis ka na."

"Ayan, papahiramin mo rin naman pala ako eh." Kinuha ko ang suklay saka naupo sa visitor's chair niya at sinuklayan ang buhok ko. "Dito na lang pala ako maggugupit."

"Oh, God. Wait!" Panotchi suddenly shouted, raising his hand as if to stop me, panic written all over his face.

"Huh?"

"Plastic! Get some plastic!" He shouted, panicking. His eyes darting around his office as he paced back and forth. My brow furrowed in confusion when I saw him transfer the remaining cake from its box to a plate and grab the empty box.