Moon of Misfortunes

15

I tug up a pair of shorts, tying the strings in front of me. I look in the mirror, focusing on my hair. I let out a dramatic sigh. Rubio smirks, following my line of vision to the unruly mess on my head. It looks horrific in the growing morning light. I frown deeply, almost feeling my face sag with it.

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad," Rubio tosses out.

"It is," I huff out, attempting to comb through it. "It's a total nest."

"Be careful, a bird might fly out of it," he teases. 

I narrow my eyes at him before throwing the comb at him. He catches it and laughs loudly. He grabs my hand with his free one, pulling me out of the bathroom and into the larger room until we reach the couch.

"Sit on the floor," he states, motioning vaguely at the floor with the comb. 

I oblige, plopping down on the floor and resting my back against the front of the couch. He walks over to the bed, grabs part of the sheet, and rips a strip off it. My eyes widen as I stifle a laugh.

"So much for respecting the Council's property," I giggle as I tease him. "You might get another 20 years."

"Fuck the Council and their ugly ass bed sheets," he bites back, smirking.

"What are you even doing? Are you going to tie me up?" I flirt lightly. His eyes darken for a moment before he closes them and shakes off the thought.

"You'll see," he says, moving to the couch. 

I hear him place the plastic comb in his mouth, his teeth clicking onto the back of it. Gently, he pulls my hair back over my shoulders, allowing it to flow down my back. He takes the comb out of his mouth and starts softly brushing the knots out from the bottom. He slowly works his way up to the base of my hair. His movements are extremely gentle, causing me to relax into his legs. I lazily place the pits of my arms on his thighs, letting my arms dangle by his legs. Once he is satisfied, he starts French braiding my hair. I almost jolt in shock.

"Who taught you how to braid?" I ask. 

He chuckles at my curiosity. His fingers continue to glide through my hair. With each brush of his fingertips against my scalp, a pleasant shiver dances down my spine. I bite back a blush.

"My mom. I had to learn how to take care of my own hair and put it in protective styles. I didn't get this beautiful overnight," he jokes.

"You had longer hair?"

"Many times," he confirms. "I like it like this now. Give it a century, and I'll be back to the long."

I laugh at his comment. I feel him stop braiding for a moment, then he begins tying my hair back with the piece of bedsheet he found. Excited, I run into the bathroom to look at the braid.

"Oh my, it's actually good," I say, surprised at how well done it is. 

I lean in towards the mirror, hoping to get a better look. Rubio props himself against the door frame by the peak of his shoulder, crossing his arms over his still bare chest.

"Of course it's good. I'm the master at everything."

"Yeah, because you're old. Ancient even. Shouldn't you be in a nursing home by now, Grandpa?" I tease him.

"You know what?" he growls playfully, a smile plastered to his face. 

He strides over to me, grabbing my waist firmly. He lifts me onto the bathroom vanity. My hands grab his shoulders instinctively. Smirking, he grabs my chin before smashing his mouth to mine. I instantly kiss him back, my legs wrapping around his hips.