𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 — i'll make you pretty

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 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 approached swiftly and unexpectedly. The chill of the night air drifted in and weaselled its way towards the sleeping quarters, climbing the student's bones.

 Emilia was one of the many to wrap herself in her jumpers and blankets, it was quite a sight to see the bubblegum pink blanket trailing behind her like a veil as she wandered through the corridor on her way back from a rather long night slouched over books inside the library; that is, until her eyes caught sight of a light still on, and a door cracked open.

 Of course, it would be Stephen's door open at such a time. It was surprising that the man hadn't collapsed the moment he stepped out of the shower; from the repeated failures during his training, to being stuck atop mount Everest to freeze until he gave in and surrendered to the mystic arts... It had most certainly been a day indeed.

 Light, soundless steps carried Emilia towards his door, eyes drooping as sleep threatened to drag her into the darkness, and yet she persisted, unwilling to hear the screams and see the raging, billowing flames that plagued her mind every night.

 The door slowly opened as her hand pushed it to the side, it didn't creak or make even the slightest of sounds, and Stephen, standing before the mirror in his room, clear of a shirt and with a razor clutched within shaking fingers, wouldn't have noticed her had she not have spoken up.

 "You can ask for help, you know." She muttered softly, shoulder hunching as she buried her face into the blankets that swarmed her hands, "I've given enough for free, it's about time you ask for it."

 His head ducked as a single chuckle parted his lips, and slowly he lowered the razor, "I thought I could do it on my own."

 "You conjured a portal and saved yourself from freezing, I'm certain that letting me help you clean up that mess doesn't make you any lesser."

 "I'm sorry, mess?"

 A tired hum left her as she started forwards, a hand reaching out to swipe the razor from his trembling fingers, "You heard me. Mess. Don't worry, I'll make you pretty."

 "Yeah, if you don't fall asleep and slice my face off."

 "Whilst I might throw books, I wouldn't dare carve you with a razor." With a light pat to his bare shoulder, she gestured for him to take a seat on the stool that had previously been tucked away, "Sit, you giant."

 "It's not my fault you only grew enough to reach the lowest shelf.

 "Do you want me to make you bald? Because I'll do it."

 Now that made him finally close his mouth and the smug upturn of Emilia's lips hadn't been concealed to him, for he shook his head. Emilia hovered over him, the man still as tall as a tree even despite him taking a seat.

 His hair was an utter mess, strands of raven-black were tangled with those small pieces of grey that had begun to grow just above his ears; it took a short second for her to untangle everything before she took a pair of scissors into her hands and trimmed away as light hums fell from her lips.

 She was beyond tired, and Stephen was right, she probably could fall asleep whilst cutting his hair, it would be a sight to wake to indeed; a man who she had known for just a couple of months bare of a shirt, with half of his hair missing and a rather gross beard smothering his face.

 It had been a comfortable silence, Emilia's eyes were glued to her task and she was rather good at it, after all whenever she had visited... Whenever she had visited her parents, she would give the children of the neighbourhood haircuts when their own parents couldn't quite afford them.

 It was a lovely memory, children lining up before her, giggling and pointing at the child with scissors at their hair before being subjected to their own haircut, promptly wiggling and squirming in their chair, and huffing as strands of hair fell down their face.

 But it was yet another memory that had been tainted.

 She couldn't think of such times without the scene becoming doused in red.

 "How long have you known about..." Stephen trailed off, his eyes still firmly stuck on the concentrated look upon Emilia's softened features.

 "My abilities?" Emilia supplied, pausing in her task to meet his eyes through the mirror. Her mouth opened once, and then it shut again.

 "You don't have to say anything."

 For that she was grateful. She had thought Stephen of all people would have been the one to poke and prod her with question after question; it was something he often did, after all. And yet he looked as though he meant what he said, he was curious, of course he was, but he didn't seem as though he'd spout an insufferable amount of questions at her.

 It took a moment for her to respond, she had returned back to her task and carried on snipping away at his hair, "Quite some time. They..." She cleared her throat, a pained look contorting her face, "They were completely out of my control at first, to the point that I didn't even realise they were there. They moved objects in my lab, and I, of course, thought it could be anything else, anything other than what it truly was. Some... Things happened and I had to leave my home and my job to make sure I didn't hurt anybody else."

 Stephen continued to stare at her through the mirror, questions burning his tongue and yet he reigned them in for her sake. She was trembling but with a sharp intake of air she steadied herself and continued to clip away at the mess atop his head; whatever had happened, whatever her powers had done to lead her to leave her entire life behind must have been terrible.

 Her eyes had lost all of their usual light, fading into a dull green rather than the bright emerald that usually shined with either mirth or mischief. He had seen that look before, on the nights and days she never showed to their usual meetings. He would seek Emilia out, and from afar could see just how tired and broken she looked; so he usually settled into leaving her be.

 "Are you scared of them?" Stephen finally questioned after a few more beats of silence.

 "I am. I'm terrified of them, of what they entail and what they could become. That's why I'm here, to seek help. The Ancient One is doing her best, no matter how hard I make her job, and she's helped me gain some control over them, but even still, they have a mind of their own. I'll wake up some nights to my room in disarray, I'll walk through the library and hear books fall from their shelves. During training I've destroyed furniture, almost hit Mordo with a damn table... I let my fear control me, at least that's what the Ancient One says."

 Stephen nodded, aware of the way her voice grew ever quieter as her sentences continued on. It was strange to hear such words from her, to see her the way she was. The Emilia he had come to know was bright, strong, and from what he had seen thus far, she had always been in control over her abilities, when it came to the mystic arts at least. She could conjure portals with ease, it was odd to think that she couldn't tame the other abilities that had landed within her lap.

 They settled into silence once again; Stephen didn't know what to say. He didn't want to stir memories that were better left forgotten, he didn't want that look of shame and despair to stay on her face when he had gotten so used to the light flush in her cheeks, the light in her eyes and the upturn of her lips.

 Emilia however, didn't quite trust her voice. The tightness that clogged her throat every night after her dreams had appeared rather rapidly during her conversation with Stephen, and she was unwilling to let herself fall apart in front of him.

 It was strange, the amount of trust she had for Stephen, and it was more than strange that despite the short time they had known one another, just how much comfort he brought her. Perhaps it was like calling like; two people with dreams of being fixed. Two people whose lives had been turned on their heads.

 It didn't take long for Emilia to finish her rather wonderful job of cutting Stephen's hair, and she did have to clear her throat to avoid laughing at the way the man's eyes would flicker shut when she ran her fingers through his dark tresses.

 It was more than a job well done; she had shortened his sides, leaving the top of his hair fairly long, slicking a majority of it back. He looked clean, well, apart from the tangled mass of hair that covered his cheeks and chin.

 She reached a hand around, poking a furry cheek, "Can I please get rid of this as well?"

 The side of Stephen's lip curled upwards as he furrowed a brow, "You think it's that bad."

 She said nothing and instead just looked at him with a look that said something along the lines of 'it looks horrible, either let me cut it, or let me perish'.

 Rather than reply, a chuckle rang out, vibrating his chest as he slowly turned on the stool, facing her so that she had better access.

 Gentle fingers slid down the sides of his face as Emilia took on yet another concentrated look; her brows furrowed, lines appearing between them as she lightly pouted her lips, "Any particular style?"

 "I trust you."

 "Oh, famous last words." She drawled out with a grin, eyes flicking to meet his; their close proximity making neither of them uncomfortable, and just as his lips parted to make some kind of rebuttal, Emilia shook her head, "You can't take it back now."

 "Oh, good."

 Ever so carefully did Emilia graze his cheeks with the razor, twisting it here and there for sharper edges... Perhaps it was a little cruel to be carving out Stark's beard on Stephen's face... But their ego and arrogance were all too similar that she simply couldn't help it.

 "Just so you're aware...." Stephen began, his head as still as possible as his eyes travelled over Emilia's face, "You're smiling like a maniac."

 "Am I now?" Emilia muttered back, amusement mingling in her words as she finished her work, leaving Stephen with a sharp moustache and goatee; the two being connected with a thin strip of hair that ran down the sides of his mouth.

 The second that the buzzing of the razor ceased, Stephen turned his head back to the mirror, leaning forward as Emilia observed him over his shoulder. Her lip was pulled between her teeth as he scanned his own face before she finally questioned him, "What do you think?"

 Stephen trailed a hand through his hair, slowly bringing it towards the hair that still resided on his face before meeting Emilia's eyes, "What do you think?"

 "I told you I'd make you pretty, I think I succeeded." A coy grin spread upon her lips as she tilted her head to the side, "I like it."

 "Are you saying that you think I'm pretty?"

 "And there is that insufferable arrogance again," Emilia rolled her eyes, though her smile still rested upon pink lips as she turned towards the door, "As much as I'd hate to boost your already inflated ego, I do think you're pretty."

 Stephen faltered for a short moment as he watched her leave; that hadn't been expected whatsoever. The two of them joked, mockingly insulted each other, and here and there their jokes might have had somewhat flirtatious undertones, but they were just that, jokes.

 Stephen wasn't an idiot, nor was he entirely humble; he thought he was attractive, and he thought Emilia was too; though to hear the woman outright compliment his appearance when she had shown such restraint in praising anything other than his intellect or capabilities with the mystic arts was rather indulgent.

 Whilst Stephen finished readying himself for a night of deep sleep that was sure to come thanks to such a trying day, as well as having lingering thoughts on the short, sweet and fleeting compliment, Emilia dragged herself back to her room and slumped on the bed.

 The covers were strewn about, and cushions tumbled to the floor as she fell onto her side. Sleep was calling her, and the moonlight that drifted into her room was taunting her; she needed to rest, but she couldn't.

 She feared her abilities, and she feared her own mind.

 During the day and beneath the light of the sun, there was a multitude of things that could distract her terrifying thoughts; she'd train with Mordo, with the Ancient One, or she'd help Stephen with whatever he needed her for. She could focus on her abilities, or help other students.

 But at night when her head hit the pillow and she released all control over her mind, there was nothing to keep those thoughts at bay. There was nothing to stop her from waking up in a pool of her own sweat as she gasped for breaths and sobbed at the lingering memories that would forever live in her head.

 The short moment with Stephen; it was so easy to switch from a conversation about her past, and slip into a teasing and taunting battle of both insults and compliments with the man. She felt human, for what little time it had lasted for... Though she truly did fear what her little compliment would do for Stephen's ego, no doubt he'd bring up time and time again.

 Then again, she supposed she didn't mind the thought all that much.

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17-08-2021

this is just a little filler chapter; i didn't plan for the haircut scene to be so damn long, but i loved how it turned out and didn't want to shorten it. it also didn't make sense to include another scene with it so i left it alone and used it as a way to develop their relationship a little better. i hope you all enjoyed.