𝕊𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 - { ᴅᴏᴜᴍᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ }

27 - { ʟᴏᴛᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛ }

Second POV:

As you take a seat on the wooden chair, Douma stands behind you, ready to work on your hair. He peers down at you and asks, "(Y/N), what approach would be best to start with? To...fix my apathy, I mean." 

His voice is softer and more gentle than usual, as though he is trying to make you feel calmer. You tilted your head to look up at him, thinking for a moment about his question. There was a moment of peaceful silence, when the only sound were the birds outside. Soon enough, you spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Well, I believe that the best starting option is to save someone's life." You wince as he tugs on your hair slightly. He stays quiet, clearly considering your idea. You knew he had few reason to say no to this, since there was always conflict going around at the temple, whether it be two members fighting over something petty, or a new person seeking help.

"Hmm...that's a clever idea. The entire reason of the cult, as much as the followers are aware, is to shelter people in their time of need." Douma paused, hesitating on his next words. "Lord Muzan would not be so fond of the idea, though." You sigh, knowing he would say that. You drift away, the feeling of Douma doing your hair lulling you into your own thoughts.

How could you work around that? He was likely sick of seeing Douma's face, since you two had been to the castle so many times, so it definitely wouldn't be that much of an issue. Although, you would still have to watch out for him just in case he somehow finds out. It was strange; he always seemed to know exactly what was happening at all times around demons. Especially Uppermoons...

He pats you on the shoulder. "(Y/N), are you alright?" He asks, noticing your lack of response to his question. You snap out of your trance, and you blink several times. "Oh, I'm completely fine. I was thinking of a way to get around that." Your intention was definitely not to get him on bad terms with Muzan, so how would you do it...

"It's fine, he's sick of my face. He'll be avoiding me for quite some time; it happens every time!" Douma lets out a chuckle. You sweatdrop, not sure whether to laugh or to feel bad for the poor guy.

"I'm done with your hair, by the way." Douma said, reaching his hand into his pocket and leaving the hairbrush there for future use - you weren't even going to ask at this point. 

"Thank you!" You gratefully smiled at him and stood up from the seat of the wooden chair. You reached your hands around the sides of it and picked it up, placing it down in the corner of the room where you had originally found it. The sun was streaming inside from the window, and it was practically lighting up the entire room. 

"Should I cover up the window so that it's darker inside?" You turn to where you thought Douma was, but he wasn't there. You heard his voice from the opposite end of the room, in the darkest area. "There's a curtain next to the window, you may use that."

Oh. He was over there because the sun was rising outside rather quickly, and he would prefer to avoid any unnecessary burns. You caught sight of the navy blue - now brown, because of dried blood - colored curtain and grab onto it, the silky material simply feeling expensive in your hands. 

"Erm, are you sure this is okay to use? It feels expensive." You say aloud. Douma doesn't answer, giving you your response. You stretch the curtain and hang it over the window, blocking much of the sunlight. 'Of course he would have blackout curtains.' You think, internally laughing.