Work Text:
Kite is standing in the hair product aisle of a grocery store at 12 am. They are flickering in and out of reality with the fluorescent lights. Their joints ache. They exhale quietly.
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Ging was the one who bought their last bottle of leave-in conditioner: something expensive he saw at a salon in Yorkshin.
Kite was freshly showered with their hair in a wet clump down their back, soaking the neckline and back of their nightshirt. Ging stretched, stood up, and walked over to their bed.
“I got something for you. Stay still and let me brush your hair.”
Kite let him.
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It has been 3 months since they last saw Ging, when he left in the early morning and they visited Pariston’s office.
Since then, they have spent a few nights in Pariston’s suite in the Hunter’s Association building. Sometimes in the morning before Pariston leaves for work, the two shower together. Pariston washes Kite’s hair with his expensive shampoo that smells like toasted coconut and vanilla. Kite kneels and exfoliates Pariston’s skin with dead sea sponges that he imports from the eastern Balsa Islands. The morning light hurts both of their eyes.
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Kite is trying to decide if it is more painful to purchase an off-brand bottle of leave-in conditioner and feel the absence of Ging even more acutely or wrestle with the shame and self pity of trying to purchase the expensive hair product online somewhere. They don’t want to deal with this. They don’t want to go back to their empty apartment that used to be Ging’s empty apartment before they forced their way in.
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Paris said this would happen. They fucking hate when he’s right. Bile burns in the back of their throat just like every other time they think of Paris, except when it doesn’t. They are so exhausted.
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Someone in a polyester vest coughs lightly. Oh. They are in the person’s way, probably. Perhaps they will forego the leave-in conditioner this time. They nod politely at the employee, pick up an almond oil hair mask, and walk towards the check out.