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Whenever Pomni threaded her gloved fingers through Ragatha’s rosy-red curls, it became a quiet little ritual they both looked forward to. She would patiently unravel each rope-like curl, separating it into delicate strands before weaving them into tiny, intricate braids. It took hours, but Pomni never minded. She would happily lose herself in the gentle rhythm of it until every inch of Ragatha’s head was adorned with dozens of neat little plaits.
And Ragatha loved every second of it.
She had almost forgotten how comforting it felt to have someone play with her hair—to simply be cared for without expecting anything in return. The faint, familiar scent of Pomni surrounded her like a warm blanket, easing every anxious thought that tried to creep into her mind. She rested against her girlfriend, listening to the soft, steady thump of Pomni’s heart. Neither of them was truly human anymore, not in the way they once had been, yet somehow that heartbeat still existed. Still warm. Still reassuring. Still proof that, somehow, they were alive together.
More than anything, Ragatha wanted to return the favour.
She wanted to sit Pomni between her knees, gently brush her dark hair back, and make her look every bit as lovely as Pomni always made her feel. But Ragatha’s stitched mitten-like hands simply weren’t made for such delicate work. Her fingers—if they could even be called fingers anymore—were too broad and clumsy to separate tiny strands or weave careful braids the way Pomni’s wonderfully nimble hands could.
She stared down at her own hands with a wistful little sigh.
“My hair’s a bit short for braids anyway,” Pomni said with a soft laugh after Ragatha confessed her worries. “But… thank you. It means a lot that you wanted to.”
Ragatha smiled, though it carried a touch of disappointment.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel pretty?” she asked quietly. “Because you deserve to feel beautiful every single day.”
Pomni’s expression softened into something impossibly tender. She reached up and gently cupped Ragatha’s cheek, her thumb brushing lovingly across the stitched fabric.
“You already do,” she whispered.
Ragatha blinked.
“Just knowing you love me for who I am…” Pomni continued, her smile growing warmer, “…makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.”
Ragatha’s stitched smile seemed to brighten all on its own. She leaned forward until their foreheads rested together, holding Pomni as though she were something unimaginably precious.
“You are,” Ragatha murmured. “And I’ll spend forever reminding you.”