娇娇 [51%]

His lips appeared to curl into a pleased smile at having caught your attention with ease. “I’d like to request your assistance in a certain matter,” He began, taking a step towards you. “If, you’re not busy at the current moment, that is.”

That request sounded far too earnest, far too innocent, hardly befitting someone like him. Your eyes narrowed as you eyed him warily, his words ringing small alarms in your head instantly. If that didn’t raise immediate red flags, his smile definitely did. It was akin to a predator that was lurking behind a mask of innocence—or in this case, it was that damned smile of his. There was something so very odd about it, that you couldn’t help but doubt the sincerity behind it. 

Plus, he was from the Index, a Proxy no less. That ‘request’ could very well be a Prescript, and its unpredictability wasa a risk on its own. It could range between maybe just him requesting you to do a specific motion, like maybe waving your hand for three seconds, which would be fine—really, it would be, if what lies on the other end of the spectrum wasn’t your possible demise at his hands. Upon killing you, he could so easily just dispose of your body by throwing it into the middle of some Backstreets, as it’d eventually be swept away by the Sweepers—leaving not a single trace of your existence.

Your expression likely betrayed your thoughts, as you spotted the briefest hint of amusement in his gaze. “It’s nothing like the scenario you’ve created in your head, do rest assured.” He added, “If I needed someone to torture or kill, I wouldn’t make you my target of all people, dear.”

His words sounded innocent enough, and as it is, you would’ve been easily fooled—but this was Rien, you were talking about, and you weren’t going to ignore that last part of his statement. So, you stared him down for a little while longer, attempting to find even the smallest crack in his composure, which resulted in utter and total failure, as his expression—as always—concealed all his possible hidden intentions. Reluctantly, a defeated sigh escaped your lips. “..Fine, lead the way.”

…Although that was what you said, you wouldn’t refute that—now you realize that you really should’ve asked what it was first. Now, perhaps as a consequence of your actions and terrible decisions, you were in his bathroom, standing behind the Proxy who had seated himself in front of the mirror with a brush in your hand. Initially, the moment he pulled that box dye out from his shelf, you were fully prepared to scurry off. However, maybe it was just something in how pitiful he looked when he apologized and said something along the lines of ‘The Prescripts told him to do so’, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him there. So, out of the kindness of your big heart, you swallowed down all your complaints.

..You think you really should’ve just swung the door open and stormed off without so much as a glance back, but it’s too late for that now. At least the instructions were simple though, merely consisting of a few understandable paragraphs on the back of the box itself.

You had slipped on the disposable plastic gloves that were provided and were now beginning to run a brush through his hair. They had instructed to ensure that there were no tangles and the like, but so far.. Not a single knot had been encountered. Was it because he does, in fact, take good care of his hair? For some reason, you find that rather hard to believe.. Well, no matter. 

You only snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed Rien staring at you through the mirror, and you immediately removed your hand from his hair—you hadn’t even noticed when it was that you tried to experimentally run your fingers through it. That look, although you couldn’t make out what it was exactly, still had you feeling the shame a child would upon being caught sticking their fingers into the cookie jar. 

So, with averted eyes, you picked up the mixing bowl from the counter and pretended as if nothing of the sort just happened. It was fortunate that he was kind enough to mix the dye for you beforehand, but it didn’t make it any less nerve-wrecking for him to have his eyes on you the whole time. Nonetheless, with a firm hand, you began applying the dye to his roots. 

However, as you dyed his hair black, you found yourself wondering—“Is your hair originally white?”

You hadn’t realized that the question slipped from your mind and escaped the traitorous cage of your head until it was too late, and it was met with a hum from the recipient himself. “Yes,” He affirmed softly. “Is there a specific reason as to why you’re asking this question?”

You lifted your gaze from his hair to glance at him in the mirror for a moment before you returned it to his roots. “I’m just asking,” You retorted sharply. 

…Not like you’d ever admit to him directly that you thought he was just starting to grow white hairs like old people do—he probably was, though..

Rien didn’t say much else, but you could feel his gaze on you as you worked your way through his hair. It sort of felt as if he knew you were thinking those very thoughts. 

..Hope not.

Thankfully, you were quick to finish with his hair, which wasn’t all too shocking considering you only needed to touch up his roots a little and dye the stray white strands of his hair black. All that was left now was to let it sit.

…

Which was rather awkward, really. You were already aware that Rien wasn’t the talkative type, only speaking usually when spoken to.

That’s why it took you off guard when he was the first to break the silence. “I’m glad you were willing to lend me a hand.”

It was so uncharacteristically nice of him to say that you almost mistook it for true sincerity without any hidden motives—that was all it was, almost. “It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be; it’s just a dye job.” You murmured, placing the bowl back atop the counter. “Plus, it’s not like you’re asking me to bleach your whole head and dye it pink, or something.”

An airy chuckle escaped his lips, “I guess you’re not wrong.”

You couldn’t help but remain silent, staring at him through the mirror. You’ve seen this same man kill countless people mercilessly, yet he was here now, willingly turning his back to you and allowing you to dye his hair for him. Rien looked like someone who’d probably keep people locked up in his basement, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Why didn’t you go ask someone else?”

He paused for a moment at your question, contemplating on an answer quietly. “Mm, who would I choose if not you?”

Who could you propose, if not yourself?

You opened your mouth to retort, but no name came to mind that wouldn’t likely result in an attempted murder. Valencina was too busy drinking her life away, Matthias was probably out there spoiling their project baby rotten, Callisto would probably secretly pluck out strands of his hair and use it to make some grotesque artwork with it somehow, and that Dihui Star lady would probably first have his head severed cleanly from his torso before ever assisting him in such a mundane task like this.

A moment later, you replied hesitantly, “..Someone at the barber’s?”

“Quite a long way to go just to touch up some roots.” He chuckled, “Dear, is it so unfathomable that I’d trust you with this task the most out of everyone else in this building?”

Yes, it was. But you didn’t speak your mind this time, instead choosing to mumble something quietly underneath your breath. He smiled.

A few minutes passed this way, before you ordered him to turn around so you could properly rinse his hair. He complied smoothly, without any complaints, shifting on the chair to face away from the mirror. However, now you realize how awkward it truly was, with him now being able to watch you directly. You were able to ignore it previously because it was hiding just in your peripheral—but not this time.

Unable to bear it any longer, you sighed, “...Could you close your eyes?” 

It seemed as if he was about to tease you about it, but ultimately chose to refrain from doing so. “As you wish, love.”

You were about to snap at him, but he had already shut his eyes per your orders, and it’s not like you could complain when he was technically obeying your commands. So, with a huff, you turned the faucet’s handle and allowed the cold water to run.

Gently, you began combing your fingers through his hair. Whilst doing so, you allowed your thoughts to drift for a moment.

You never got much of an opportunity to observe Rien so closely, but you noticed this time that he seemed to be enjoying this position he was in. You were no expert, and it wasn’t like you were blessed with the ability to notice the near atom-sized changes in his body language and facial expressions, but you weren’t so blind as to not notice the way he seemed to hold himself together in a much more relaxed manner, albeit only slightly. Not to mention, how was it possible that he had such long lashes? Should you cut them off—No, that was a low blow, even for you.

You had half a mind to bring it up if only to get back at him, but alas, the pacifist route is the one truly good path. Really, he should be grateful that you weren’t taking advantage of the situation to dye his hair hot pink while he wasn’t looking.

A few minutes later, you finished it up and closed the faucet, allowing the water to die down swiftly into a small trickle before coming to a full halt.

You watched as he sat up properly once more, picking up the towel from his lap as he dried his hair. He directed his gaze towards you, “Thank you, [Name].”

You nodded in return to his words, not too focused on them as you were more focused on slipping the now dirtied plastic gloves off your hands, throwing them into the trash can once you had successfully gotten them off.

Suddenly, that familiar beeping sound pierced through the silent, alerting you immediately. In contrast, Rien didn’t seem too bothered as he was already accustomed to the unpredictable nature of his God. He fished it out of his chest pocket, checking what Prescript he had received.

Beep. Beep—

With each beep, you watched his expression morph more into that which resembled amusement before he returned it to its rightful place. Whatever it was, you did not want a part in it. Thus, you prepared to make your escape immediately. “Well, you’ve got a job to do now, so I’ll be taking my leave–”

However, you were promptly interrupted by the placement of his hand right by the side of your face. He didn’t quite cup your face, merely letting it hover just an inch too close, with his fingers just barely grazing your skin. Before you could tell him off, however, you felt him press his lips just briefly against your temple.

That wasn’t the most infuriating thing he did in that moment, rather, what he whispered next caused you to merely stare at him in utter disbelief.

“I lied, by the way.” He murmured, before pulling away as if nothing had happened with a smile.

As he left, you heard the distant sounds of his Device beeping, signalling its completion.

..

So, he made you help him dye his hair just because he wanted to?

“Asshole..” You hissed, immediately turning on your heels to get back at him for that lie. Why did you just believe that sly bastard, anyway?!

♬ . . . Additional Notes:

Maybe the white hair was because of old age all along… Maybe it wasn’t because his original hair was white but because he’s just That old… think about it… nods nods anyways there is a specific reason why he specifically refers to reader with endearments like ‘my love/dear’, without the ‘my’. The answer’s pretty obvious methinks (unrelated to his late wife blinks)