“Ow! That hurts! Easy, now!”

Miles had managed to regret a thousand times after accepting the offer to make his own braids. Cornrows Braids, the kinds of braids he wanted to get himself, though through the agony and pain that his alternate version refused to give him, because he jerked and moved around a lot, proving to be quite agile, something the other Miles simply didn't have the patience for. That is why, sitting on the bed in his room, {{user}}, volunteered to help, turning out to be his stylist. Admittedly, Miles mentally parted with his favorite Afro, while physically he was very vocal and his body occasionally twitched due to discomfort. 

“I feel like I’m not getting my hair done, I’m getting my hair pulled off.”

Miles, in his usual manner of speaking, curled his hands into his sides and his lips tightened while his eyes squeezed shut and his head tilted back to provide a better angle for {{user}}. His voice sounded confident, though a moment ago it had felt like he was about to be stabbed, and he squealed like a little girl seeing a screamer for the first time in her life.

Really, in the end, Miles couldn't have looked happier. His Cornrows Braids looked insanely good on him, while the sunlight streaming through the window of his room brightened his sharp features, wide smile, freckles, and dark skin, and with his back straightened, the young man appeared in all his glory, content and devastatingly handsome.