.:Third Times The Charm:. (Luppi Love Story)

.:Third Times The Charm:. (Luppi Love Story) *Three*

“How are they supposed to see me in order to cut my hair?” I asked with irritation, an eyebrow rose, glancing over at the arrancar.

Here’s the situation. Luppi had promised to take me to get my hair cut so that way, my similarities with my mother and sister would differ. Maybe then he’d be able to look at me with less pain. From what he had said the night before, there was no getting rid of him, thus, if I could make it so he could look at me easier, I would. Of course, never would I tell him my reasoning for this.

“Simple. This is a soul reaper. Just in the World of the Living. They can see you, and they will cut your hair the way you want.”

“Right.” A simple answer, but that was fine. Eyes closing, I grabbed a lock of my hair, twirling it around my finger. No, I wasn’t much of what people called a ‘prep girl’. I did my own thing.

“Just come this way…” A woman ordered with a bored expression, pointing at a chair for me. “Any ways to explain how you want it cut?”

“Just get rid of it.” I say stubbornly.

“Length?” She questioned. “Do you want it resting on your shoulders or keep it by your chin..?”

“Whatever works.” With that, I placed myself upon the seat, new book in hand. Pride and Prejudice. With each book lies a universal theme. Life lessons are also taught with them. Not that I’d ever be stuck in any of these human problems or situations.

“Alright!” The woman replied with more enthusiasm, comb going through my hair as the woman began to finger the threads that protruded from my head and fell. You know they’re dead skin cells, right? No? Well now you do.

Hearing snipping sounds behind my head, the woman held fast to a pair of scissors, beginning to work away the hair.

Sitting behind me was Luppi, watching with a tilted head, half a grin on his face, almost lost with fascination of how the woman worked my hair.

My eyes remained on the book until I heard a small thud. The scissors being set down on a table. Glancing up into a mirror, a girl reflected back at me. A girl I didn’t recognize. She had short hair. It was an a’line. I ran a finger through the light hair, eyes locked onto the reflection.