London's Guard Is Falling Down

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐘

[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒]

𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖
me how to use the washing machine and how to wash my clothes, since he believed I didn't know-how.

"Use hot water for whites and cold water for the colors."

"London, that sounds like segregation. Are you really sending us back in time?"

He sighed and smiled, ignoring my joke. 

"Anyways, we put the liquid detergent into the little slot, it doesn't have to be up to max, but I like it up to there. Then, you add the scent boosters and tide pods. Clothes go in and then you start the machine. Do you want to start with the whites or colors?"

He also wanted me to try it on my own to check if I was doing it right.

"Colors," I said and took my dirty clothes out of my laundry bag.

I poured the detergent into the detergent slot, then added the scent boosters into the washing machine.

"There are no more tide pods," London stated when he saw me looking for them.

I had an idea. "Hold on, wait here."

I went up the basement stairs and went to the kitchen. I looked under the sink where there were plastic bags and cleaning products. I took the box that the dishwashing pods were in and took two. Then I went back downstairs.

"We can use these," I said.

He covered his face with his hands. "No, sweetheart, we can't."

"Why?" They were basically tide pods but for the dishwasher.

"I know they look like laundry pods but they're not, they're not the same thing."

"Yes, they are."

"Okay, then put them in there."

"Okay." I did as he said, though I would've done it anyway, even if he told me not to.

I started the wash correctly as London stood by and watched. I smiled at him as I did so.

"Want me to braid your hair now?" I offered.

He shook his head yes.

"If you're going to do it can you wash, condition, do all of that?"

"Yeah, of course."

We went upstairs and I gathered all of the hair products and tools I needed. London changed into a black tank top and sweatpants. I put on comfortable clothes too, and wrapped my hair into a silk scarf, then covered it with a bonnet.

I decided to make the conditioner I made for myself, using an egg, coconut, olive oil, avocado, and honey, then blending it all.

The two of us then went to our bathroom. I removed his durag and made him lean forward so that I could rinse his hair. The next thing I did was apply the conditioner and a plastic shower cap.

I set a timer for twenty minutes. During those twenty minutes, my clothes in the wash were ready. London went down to put them in the dryer with me.

When I took out one of my graphic tees, I noticed there was this clear gunk on it the armpit.

"Ew, what the hell?"

"That's why you don't put dishwashing pods in your laundry," London stated smugly.

Damn, I should've listened to him!

"How do I get it off?" I asked.

"I suggest maybe washing it again or soaking it in hot water."

The conditioner alarm on my phone went off. "I'll deal with this later," I disregarded. The two of us went back upstairs. I rinsed the conditioner out and applied the shampoo then rinsed that out. I dried his hair and split it up to blow dry it in my room.

His hair was about the top of his ear length when I stretched it out.

"London, where'd you get this hair from?" I teased.

"It came from my scalp."

"Don't lie, I know you got this shit from Brazil."

He chuckled, I liked the sound of him laughing.

I was sitting on my bed and London was sitting on the floor as I braided his hair.

"Can Shannon and I sit at your table from now on?" I suddenly asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Just until Darion apologizes," I muttered. He would apologize, he always did.

"So you're going to be his friend again if he apologizes?" London questioned.

"I'll be petty and make him beg for forgiveness, but eventually yeah."

"No, Paris." He turned around, his eyebrows furrowed in anger (if I'm not mistaken). "Why would you ever forgive him?"

"He's my friend."

"Was, he was your friend. Friends don't let other people call you a 'whore.' "

"London, he was mad at me."

"And the reason was invalid, am I wrong?" He wasn't. "Darion is a pussy. Don't associate yourself with a pussy, because that makes you a pussy, too." He turned back around so I could continue.

I had no idea where this possessive or protective side of London came from.

"I have a pussy, so I'm already associated with one," I reminded.

"That's fine, there're exceptions to everything."

I couldn't keep my lips from twisting up, eventually, I started laughing.