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“Come on, I could finish it in like, thirty minutes!”
“Yeah, after ripping all my hair out in the process.”
Miles didn’t take his eyes off of his monitor as Margo stood eagerly in the door frame, a clear makeup bag of hair supplies in her arms. The room was dim, the blinds having been shut to avoid any glare on the screen.
Miles wouldn’t budge the first five times, but she’d get him today.
He sat with his knees pulled up to his chin in an old but sturdy leather swivel chair. Certainly not a traditional ‘gaming chair’, but he called it that.
“I’m real gentle, I promise!”
“I’ve seen you do your own braids,”
Miles executed a winning combo on his controller.
“and I told you I want no parts. Pun intended.”
Margo pursed her lips, and thought for a moment.
“You still looking for a copy of ’Dandadan’?”
The boy paused the game, and gave her a sideways look.
“How did you know that?”
She shrugged, “Context clues. But that’s not important. I can let you borrow mine–”
Miles lit up. “Really–?”
“–If you let me do your hair. Capiche?”
He paused, glancing at the sharp rat tail comb sitting in Margo’s bag. Miles had blown most of his allowance for this week at Game Stop, so any new manga purchases would have to wait until Monday. Unless…
He sighed deeply, running a hand over his face.
“Fine.”
Miles came to regret this decision as he sat in front of the living room couch between Margo’s knees, wincing at every tug and pull.
“Is this the last section–ow!”
“Stop moving,” Margo waved her wide-toothed comb around threateningly like a weapon. “You almost done, anyway. See?”
She put down the comb and grabbed a small mirror for him to look into. Save for a small tuft of un-braided hair, his entire head had been neatly cornrowed and shone with grease. There were about four total, and it had only been twenty-ish minutes or so.
After ten minutes more of pain and accusations of 'tender-headed-ness’, Margo was finally done.
“You look so cute!” she chirped, clapping her hands together. “I'mma go wash my hands.”
Miles rolled his shoulders and reached for the mirror to assess Margo’s work. The braids tugged at his scalp as he turned his head at different angles, trying to get used to the look. His brows furrowed.
Miles’ hair had stayed in more or less an afro since he could walk, with the exception of his mother’s only attempt to sit him down and braid it when he was six.
…It did not go well.
The mass of hair became almost a part of his face. The cornrows made it feel like half of it was now missing. Weird stuff.
“D'you like it?” Margo asked, having emerged from the bathroom.
“It’ll have to grow on me. I only did this for the free manga, remember?”
Margo’s eyes widened, as if she just remembered something.
Very matter-of-factly, she said, “Oh, I lied about that.”
“…What?”
Miles’ face fell immediately as she knelt down and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“But you’ll forgive me, right? I made you look cooler!”
Margo pulled him into a tight bear hug. He rolled his eyes.
“You might be right, but I’m gonna get you back for that. Better keep a close eye on…what’s her name? Kimi?”
“Kuromi, dumbass,” she picked up the comb from before and gently smacked him with it. “And don’t touch my figurines. You won’t walk outta my room alive.”
“Count your days, man.”