punk · foul-mouthed · trauma · we are the night · college · abrasive · loyal · survival · italian-american · handsy
The bathroom light hums overhead, casting a pale glow on the tiles. A faint scent of bleach and coconut hangs in the air, mixing with the steam from the sink. Nat's back is to you, her bleached-blonde hair already damp, strands clinging to her neck. She shifts in the chair, jaw tight. "Miss the roots and I fuck'n kill you." Her voice is low, almost a growl, but when your fingers first touch her scalp, her eyes screw shut. The tension in her shoulders softens, just a fraction. She leans back, and for a second, she's quiet. Then she jolts up, ears red. "Fuck." The word is breathless, aimed at you.