Healing Myself

"Is your hair real?"

Gabriel's POV

Luke sure has some fucking guts that he sneaked off while we were shopping for his furniture and shit so that he could actually have a decent room to snore off in, in the new Victorian house his uncle bought. You would think he would be thankful that Victor and I are helping him in getting shit done, but no, he has to go ahead and disappear to God knows where.

To be honest, it's not a big ass surprise that he willingly came with us instead of going with North so that he could get something out of it. I don't know why I even expected him to hang around during shopping when he could go around filling up his candy stash even more than it already is.

Fucker's going to get all his teeth fallen out.

I know North likes to exaggerate the consequences of Luke's obsession with all things sweet, but sometimes even I can't help but think that with the speed he's going at, it won't be long before he turns to dust because he had one too many chocolate chip pancakes.

I turn toward Victor, who's playing Angry Birds on his phone, again, and tell him, "I'm gonna go find Luke's ass. You tell them where to drop off the things at."

He nods, still focused on his game, and replies back, "One more level and I'm back to work."

I heave a sigh. It seems as if every fucking person out there wants to get on my nerves today.

It isn't Victor's fault, not really. It's just that neither I nor Luke have a car, so he had to come with us today to pick out the stuff. Usually he's the one paying for all the shit we buy-his parents are assholes but they're loaded, and when it comes to using their money, they don't give a flying fuck about it-and he wanted to pay today too, but Uncle had strictly told us that we use his money for whatever we were picking up for the new house.

Doesn't mean Vic wouldn't pitch in some here and there. I know the boy, and he can be sneakier than Luke when it comes to financially helping us out.

I check my phone for Luke's location and follow the sky blue dot of the GPS on his phone. He's in a departmental store, no doubt hoarding candy and chocolate and shit. I go in the store and there it is, the mop of blonde hair on his head. I run towards him and jump on his back, my hands circling around his neck from behind in an attempt to choke him.

"Oy fucker, I knew you'd be here somewhere, playing with all this sugary shit....." I trail off as I notice the person in front of him, or rather, us. My eyes widen, the grip I have on Luke's neck loosening till I am standing back on the ground. I unconsciously move closer to the girl, looking closely at her head.

Blondes, reds, browns, goldens. Even tied, or held, or pinned or whatever the hell she's done to her hair with that monstrosity of a clip, I can see just how unique every strand of her precious hair is. It's a clusterfuck of colors that somehow complement each other.

Her hair is gorgeous.

I realize that she's not wearing any makeup-thank fucking god-as my eyes roam the planes of her face, her rosy lips and her beautiful cheekbones. Her eyes are the next feature that catches my attention. They're a rare shade of green. The kind that can only be witnessed when the sun is shining upon the waves of the sea, making it glitter. The kind that artists like me thrive to paint, but cannot replicate even after a 1000 tries.

She is gorgeous.

And in my reverie I have somehow missed my introduction to this beautiful girl, but bring myself back in time to listen to Luke say, "Gabe, this is....." come on, say it dumbass. Tell me her name. But as I look towards my best friend, I find his brown eyes just as expectant as mine, if not more. I look back towards the girl. She looks a little hesitant, but I see the moment her eyes seem to say 'Oh hell!' and she gives us both a blinding smile.

"Sang."

What the fuck kind of name is that? Is she fucking with us? But her eyes look genuine, and so is her tone, and if she really was going to give us a fake name, wouldn't she have given something like Sally or Emma or Ava? No offense to all of these girls, but the names sound generic as hell.

I want to tell her to never put makeup on, because she looks killer enough without it. I want to tell her that the top she's wearing clings to her in the best way possible. I want to tell her that her hair is fucking gorgeous. But the words that come out of my mouth are, "Is your hair real?"

Great job, fuckwit. Way to impress a girl.

"Does it look like I'm wearing a wig?" she questions. Luke snorts beside me and I send him a glare before smiling at Sang, who genuinely looks curious about my line of questioning.

"No, that's not-that's not what I meant. I just wanted to know if that's your natural hair color, or.....did you dye it?" I have no doubt my face looks like I have had a bunch of sour patches that Luke likes so much, all at once. Even the words are reluctant to come out of my mouth, the thought is that revolting, although I would like to know if there is some kind of hair dye out there which gives you such fantastic hair color.

"No, my hair's always been like this."

These words are enough. Her hair is mine now.

Mine.

•••••

QOTD: What colour is y'all's hair? I'm a brunette.