What? All I said was 'You're Pretty' || Miles G. Morales E:42

Ay Caramba *Insert Bart Simpson's voice*

↪...Fuck || Johnny Rain is now playing...

I hate Thanksgiving. I fucking hate Thanksgiving. 

I sat on a Shirly Temple red spinning bar stool in the bathroom that I took from the island in the kitchen, sitting in front of the sink while I stirred my hair dye mixture together with the hot pink applicator brush. When it's smooth and shiny and there aren't any (big-ish) clumps, I start sectioning out my hair with hair ties and clips then skip a song I didn't want to listen to. I slip on the shitty plastic disposable gloves that came with one of the dye containers, already spotting holes in the flimsy plastic, and begin coating my head in cherry red dye. 

The process was a mess, red was staining the marble countertop of the poor bathroom sink, my skin, somehow it got on the walls, the floor under me. Who knows how I managed that. When I'm finally done, I pull back all of my hair into a short, minuscule ponytail and clean off all the stains to the best of my very poor ability then set a timer on my phone as I walk to my room to crawl out into the fire escape. "It'll be Christmas soon, huh?" I whisper as I peer down at the street to see lights twinkling in the 'dark'.

I scroll through my phone as music spills out of its speaker, quietly murmuring the words of songs as they come and go, glaring at my refection on the screen for a spit second before sighing. I turn off my phone and rest my chin on my arm as I watch the cars zoom past, harshly running through half frozen puddles, the people interacting with each other as they walk, it all looks small, well, smaller than usual. Being all the way up here made me feel bigger than everything and everyone else. It was extremely intoxicating, but also terrifying. I love that word; intoxicating.

"Y're up 'ere a lot, huh? Well, usually, haven' seen ya ina while." What? Were you looking for me or something? Miles had snapped me out of my trance when he spoke from the open window above me, head peeking through to look down at me. It was baffling to me that he was talking to me at all. "'cept this time y'r tits aren' out, tha's too bad I liked the view." I stared at him with a burning hot, red face.

"Cállate, I was... out." Out. I bury my face in my palms as I watch him walk down the stairs of the fire escape and sit next to me, his legs dangling down the stairwell opening. "Do you need somethin?"

"Didn' we go ta the same middle school?" I shift so I'm crossing my legs facing him, resting my chin on my palm. "I think I remember you wit that green hair. Weren't you at my house one time when we were younger too?" How the fuck did he remember that? I barely remember that.

"Yeh, we moved here summer after 3th grade year and then I stared 4th here, your mom had us over about a year after we first showed up." I shrug and look at some guy drinking a plastic bottle of water under us then at a dog running from a little girl, acting like it was racing her. "I think I dyed it green 'cause me and my ex-girlfriend broke up, the color before was fadin anyway. Actually, I dumped her, but tha's not the point." Why do I always fucking overshare? 

"Whasit gonna be this time?" I suddenly felt self-conscious and awkward because parts of my forehead, ears and neck were stained pink.

"Uhh it's a lot," I skip another song, it was always so hard for me to find the words to talk to him, "'S gonna be dark red and magenta on top, then underneath it's gonna be really dark purplish blue."

"Pretty," I heard him mumble under his breath then turn to look at me, "Come out when 's done, I wanna see." My alarm started blaring and I jump, my eyes widening at the loud sound, then turn it off.