She needed something different. That craving feeling was usually easy to blame on her art. However, even changing that hadn't satisfied her.
"And when did I become a guinea pig in this plan of yours?" Jamie said as she pushed his head forward, making sure every tip of his hair was saturated in a purple-hued toner.
Her mind was elsewhere, somewhere she wasn't even sure she'd be able to find it. Her body moved on its own, stirring the powder and the developer together, and somehow or another got Jamie to be a part of her antics.
"There's no plan, that's the fun of it," She hummed her words as her face came close to his, coating his hairline once more before pulling back with final satisfaction. It was then she blinked back to the moment with humor of her own, "What? Don't tell me you're not having fun."
"Depends," His lip tugged up naturally, "How long do we leave this on?"
"'Bout thirty or so," She moved away from him, eyes still scanning for any missed spots.
"Then no," Jamie joked, pulling her back by her wrists to stand between his wide-spread legs. He gave her a look that caused him to pause with introspection. He knew he hadn't offended her, but her spirit had been dejected from the start.
She knew the look well while she looked from one eye to the other, "Jamie, I'm fine."
"I didn't say anything," He promised, letting her go.
She was deflecting and he knew better than to push her. Instead, he led the two out of the cramped bathroom once everything was cleaned up. They moved in tandem while waiting for his hair to turn the lightest shade possible. It was a long time coming to spend time unrelated to art together. It felt nostalgic in all the best ways possible.
While sitting at the kitchen counter, she watched Jamie move through her home with familiarity, putting on the kettle for some late-night warmth. His shirt hung on him loosely, highlighting the tattoos that scattered his arms and hands. She could still make out that punk of a kid she'd met, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't like the way he'd grown into himself.
As if thinking the same Jamie broke their comfortable silence, "I haven't touched my hair since we were kids."
"...And you didn't have those tattoos," She nodded to his body as he leaned back on the counter next to her. The noise of the boiling water helped her concentrate on a tattoo that was new to her, "I don't remember you getting this one."
"It's a few months old."
The crease of her eyebrows twinged with slight annoyance, as she now reached for it, "You didn't tell me?"
Jamie's smile grew as she traced over the top of his hand, a clear excuse to put hers in his. He turned their hands over to have the back of hers facing up. With his free hand, he pushed her sleeve up to mock her, hands trailing her arms as if tickling her.
They both could see the trail of goosebumps that he left in his wake, causing Jamie to laugh, "You got any more?"
She pulled her hand back, frowning at his behavior. He knew just the way to crawl under her skin, but the last thing he wanted was to upset her. Instead, he continued with his task of providing them with the barrier of a cup of tea. With his back to her, she let out a muted exaggerated breath to herself, wishing for calmness.
It wasn't until the tea had fully steeped that Jamie dared to break the accidentally stretched blanket of silence, "I was thinking..."
"That's never good," Her words tumbled out of her mouth, desperate to converse again. Jamie slid a mug identical to his over the counter. Once it reached her Jamie raised his eyebrow with teasing encouragement for her to ask him only to shake his head out of feigned embarrassment.
