𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

1.0

MILLILES POV- 2 weeks later

Finn and I decided that it would be a good idea to dye our we didn't know why. He really wanted to go purple, and I wanted to go black—we decided that we would do each other's. I was pretty nervous, but I would just have to take the risk.

It wasn't that I was nervous for the hair dye to actually dye my hair, it was more of the fact that Finn was actually dying my hair rather than somebody else. He didn't really have steady hands.

He had told me that he should be the one not trusting me because I had to bleach his hair to blonde before actually putting on the purple dye. He had a point, but I actually sort of knew what I was doing, whereas he didn't have a clue.

"Can you go first? Your hair won't take as long as mine will." He said, I took a deep breath.

"I guess, but if you go wrong I swear I'll use hair removal cream instead of bleach When I do yours." I warned.

"Okay, psychopath." He giggled, shaking up the bottle of black dye.

"I'm serious, Finn. This is my hair and everyone is gonna see it so please try your best." I said.

"I'm serious too, baby. I'll do it as best as I can, just chill out." He said, opening the bottle. "Ready?"

"Just go." I said, he nodded.

Then, it was no turning back. He squirted the black liquid on my hair, and rubbed it around with the plastic glove he had on his hands so he didn't get the dye on them. He turned my head, making sure he got every spot possible.

"You're gonna look so different with black hair." He said, squirting the last bit on. "It says you have to leave the dye on for twenty-five minutes... so you have time to do mine."

"Okay." I said, standing up. "I can't believe I'm bleaching your hair."

"Just do it, don't even make me think twice. Just squirt it on so I can't change my mind." He said, determined to dye it.

"Do you not want to change your sweater? It's one of your favourite sweaters and if you get bleach on it, it'll be ruined." I reminded.

"Oh yeah, I'll change." He said.

He walked into the bedroom, which was connected to our bedroom. He came back in one of his black shirts that he had around one hundred of so it didn't matter if he ruined one.

He sat on the white stool which I had previously been sat on, and I started to put the bleach on his hair. His curls were soft, like they always were. I remember when I first met him—I wanted to touch his curls badly.

Of course I couldn't of asked him 'can I touch your curls please?' Because we probably wouldn't be dating right now with a child if I had of said that, he would have been straight on the plane back to Canada and told the police he was weirdly attacked.

I was so deep in thought that I forgot I was still rubbing the bleach into Finns head, I gasped and pulled my hands back. His hair was already lighter. We jus needed to wash it off and then we would be able to see the full colour. Then i would also be able to put on the purple dye.

"Are you done?" He asked, I nodded.

"Looks just about done to me." I said.