There you were, strapped to a leather-bound chair, with escape non-existent. Thin drops of sweat slowly trickled down your forehead, tracing the creases in your eyebrows. Silence continued to fill the room, your fidgeting form with (e/c) eyes darting this way and that, anticipating what was to come. Then, after an endless wait, she came. Your captor. Casually, she made her way towards you, her ice-blue eyes narrowing, a sadistic sneer inching across her plump face. Though she looked kind as a grandmother, inside she was cold, and very cruel, wanting nothing now but to see you writhe and wither in her grasp. But being the stubborn person you were, would not allow her that satisfaction, and yet, there you sat, the nervousness getting the best of you, forcing tremors throughout your body. Despite this, you still refused to show weakness, but not wanting to crumble under her gaze, your head lowered, locks of (h/c) covering your face. Still she crept toward you, fury at your mannerisms building. Glancing across the near barren counter, her wrinkled fingers wavered for a moment, then clutched something in her palm, a smirk of satisfaction resting upon her face. Her hand then rose, the object in hand shone, it's steel blade then fell. Shutting your eyes tight, you bore the full brunt of the attack, then the next, and the next after. Feeling a warm liquid trickle down your neck, the nausea within your stomach began to churn once more. A few times in your hour of pain did you feel faint. But you couldn't. Afterall, you still had things to live for. Family, friends, your manga. And him. Yes. Especially him. That handsome sandy head with eyes of sparkling blue and immature smile. His open, energetic personality and childish attitude that annoyed so many but you. From his enjoyable chuckles to his warm embrace, ah, it brought comfort to your troubled brain. And, as cheezy as it might sound, you (y/n) (l/n), were completely in love with that fool called a man known as Alfred F Jones. Not that you could admit it. Why? Well, he was your best friend of course. And why didn't you admit your feelings of affection towards him? You were scared. Of rejection, of mockery. Of a ruined friendship. Oh, but despite all these pessimistic thoughts, you also did not want to have regrets because of your silent fears. In fact, you wanted change. And that was what you were going to do; starting from today forward. Until you wound up in this...predicament anyway. Anyway, by this time, that...woman had left you, only for a moment, till she came and stuck you again. You wanted to cry out in agony, you wanted to crumble before that demonic old woman. You wanted to, anyway. But you didn't. That woman would never have the pleasure of seeing you weak. And that's the way you stayed... ~Time Skip, brought by...WEIGHT SCALES! NOOOO!~ Ages had past (in reality, only a few minutes), and you were still trapped. The woman had left, though you knew she would be back. Still, despite her absence, the time spent tied to a chair felt like ages though, in this chamber of torture. Now, it felt like an eternity of torture that would neverend, but , for you anyways, it finally did. After all the indecencies done to you, you were ready to break free. And that was what you were gonna do. But then, she came back. For the first time since you entered this place, your blood ran cold. Slowly, that already flushed face of yours began to pale. This was it. She was ready for the final blow. And you couldn't save yourself. (E/c) eyes began to water, tears pricking in the corners. Though you wouldn't show that. The woman crept across the room, her shadow looming on the walls. Then, after so long, she stopped. At your feet. You flinched, shutting your eyes. Then you felt something. Air. Your bonds slipped off your body, falling to the ground. In shock, you looked up. "Your done." was all she said bluntly before she left, once more, into the depths of the prison. Not believing this to be true, yet not taking this opportunity to be a dream, you fled. ~Another Annoying Time Skip, Something Hours Later...~ Finally you were back home. Ah~ freedom never felt so good. Especially after your ordeal. Unfortunately for you, there was still one obstacle left. Alfred. ' How will I tell him?'you asked yourself. As though it were an omen, the doorbell rang. ' Eh? Who's that?'you thought, perplexed. ' Better see who it is and tell them to go away'. You walked to the door. Cautiously you turned the knob. The door opened, revealing the figure behind. " ALFRED!" The perpetrator of the door...was Alfred. Looking down, a sheepish smile crossed his face. "H-hey dude, what's u-WHAT THE HOLY MCDONALD HAPPENED TO YOU?!" he shouted, eyes now wide and alert, staring at you. ' Why is he here? Oh...that's right, I called him over.' Having calmed down from the initial shock, you began to chuckle, not bothering to hide the smirk touching your lips, you replied a bit snarky " Oh, this?" shaking your head with and air flaunt " Why, I got my haircut of course. Glad you noticed." "...Haircut?" " Yes? Uhh...i-is something...wrong? Is it too short?" worried now, you looked at your feet, hands in desperation trying to fluff your hair as though it would appear thick and long like a few hours before. " Oh-NO, uh, I mean, no, actually..." he paused, pink coloring his cheeks. Wanting to know what he had to say, you began to urge him " Alfred, actually...WHAT?" Apparently your curiosity came out more intimidating than you thought, because he started to avoid eye contact. "...A-Alfred?" you said, this time feeling guilty about "scaring" him. "...(Y-y/n)..." Suddenly you felt something on your chin, tugging your head gently upwards. " A-Alfred?" now it was your turn for your cheeks to be painted. "...Uh..." within a split second, his head bolted forward, his lips connected to yours, closing the sacred gap between you. Your head was in a whirl, not knowing, failing to comprehend what had been done. And just a quick as it had began, it...ended. Your heart screamed for more, while your mind was still in shock over what had conspired. "...That cut looks cute on you, (y/n)." Looks like that "torture" in the hair salon was worth it. Author's Note: ...Yes. This whole story was about...A haircut. Yes. Why? Cause I can. And because I wanted to re-practice writing creepy stuff. And because I got my own haircut a little over a week ago. For the first time in years. Who knew it felt so good?! Ahem, but seriously though, the hairstylist I got...was a (forgive my french) bitch. It was so awwwkwarrrd. Anywho, what I really meant to say was that...hairstylists are EVIL. I mean, once you let them, they have complete control of your hair. THEY are the difference between good-looking hair and being BALD. Oh well. And once again, I'm sorry if America is OOC, but for some reason it is fun making him awkward. Those sentiments are the same as writing crappy kiss scenes. All fun. Although it is more embarrassing when you finish writing this in a local brewery-surrounded by your aunts and uncles and mom. Annd the waiter peeking too... Oh well. ...Okay, I'll shut up now. Good night. And thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.