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He knew, that probably, he was pretty stupid.
It was a warm afternoon after work. He calmly walked home, having in his mind what type of dinner he would prepare before Koujaku’s arrival. But today, he didn't feel like cooking, so he could do something simple or he could buy something, anyway he wasn't good at cooking.
Keeping that in mind, he turned in the opposite direction, to the nearest supermarket.
While he was there, he took the opportunity to buy some essential things. Some fruits for dessert, some vegetables for cooking another day, and for today, instant noodles, boiled eggs and onigiris as they usually ate light at night.
Before leaving, he remembered that his bottle of men 13 in 1 was running out, and at the moment he took it he saw it.
Bleach box dye.
His eyes were caught in the hair’s platinum color the woman was showing as well as the design of the box with pink big letters, hearts, flowers and an exceedly use of sparkles.
He was tempted. How bad could it possibly be the result?
Well, he took exactly three second staring at it before putting it in the basket with all the other products and ignoring the blue blaming eyes that stared at him peeking out of his bag.
He was home, and with an excited laugh, he stored the food, put the noodles on the stove, and prepared himself with an old t-shirt.
On his way home, he thinked how he could dye it, maybe some white highlights? But that was very old woman style for him… everything? But only with one box? He had short hair, but he didn't think it could cover everything with one box. Well, so half of his head, and if he didn't like it, he could do the rest another day.
He opened the box, took the dyed and the plastic gloves out, and threw the box away. He wouldn’t read the instructions, he had a hairdresser’s boyfriend, he surely knew how to do it properly as he watched him work sometimes.
He put the gloves on, opened the cap, and spreaded all of it in half of his head like he was shampoing himself.
The alarm rang, so he went to prepare the plates with the noodles and egg in it. He was proud that he took less time to do his hair than the noodle to cook. He was, until someone arrived, looking at him with horror.
Koujaku arrived home, being welcomed by the big smile of Aoba, but he didn’t smile back.
“Are you okay?” Aoba asked, feeling shy all of sudden. Was it for his hair?
“Aoba, what’s that?”
“Bleach?” He was almost questioned by the grimace Koujaku made.
“Aoba! Your neck is fucking red!”
Quickly Koukaju took Aoba into the bathroom, opening the shower and removing the bleach away.
Aoba looked at himself in the mirror, seeing how he had some parts white, yellow, blue and mostly pale green.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned.”
“Did you plan it?” Koujaku asked, and instantly laughed as he watched the plain expression of his boyfriend. He looked away, picking up a pink monstrosity resting on the bathroom floor. “What brand is pupuri ? Aoba, why did you pick this?”
“Well, I was shopping and I just saw it.” Responded hesitating, as he didn’t have a good reason for it.
“And you decided that it was a good idea to put something in your hair named pupuri ?” Said Koujaku, marking the name brand as it had caused a big impression of such a ridiculous name.
“Ah..It’s not..I just..It had glitter in the packaging!”
Koujaku laughed out loud, bending his stomach. He forced himself to stop, looking at how his boyfriend was irritated but mostly, embarrassed, with his arms crossed over his chest and a slight pink on his cheeks. He approached him, and, hugging him from his back, they looked to themselves in the mirror. Taking advantage of his closeness, Koujaku left multiple kisses on the reddened back of his boyfriend's neck.
He was slowly cradling Aoba with his own movement, smirking at their reflection. It was not that bad, he could easily fix it. He tightened his arms over his hips, resting his head on his shoulder. His embarrassed expression was now relaxed, beaming smile and lovely eyes, caressing his hands and resting his head over his. It was just the way he was glancing at him that made him almost choke up on his own throat.
“Want me to fix it?”
“Please.” They talked practically in whistles. Some minutes passed. They didn’t move.
“Now?”
“After dinner?”
Koujaku smiled back, and before pulling away, he turned Aoba and let a kiss on his forehead as he took his hand gidding him into the kitchen, ready to eat.
“I’m stupid.”
“My stupid.”
