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“You requested my presence, Harukawa-san?” Kirumi’s voice was as pleasant and demure as ever, hands folded neatly in front of her. She was standing just inside Maki’s doorway, clearly unwilling to venture deeper into the room until she was invited to do so. That made Maki a little sad, tugged at her aching heartstrings, but she’d never admit it.
“I did,” she said, trying to keep it cool and casual. “Could you help me with my hair?” As she tilted her head questioningly, damp bangs fell into her face. Her hair was loose from its scrunchies and wet, dampening the baggy t-shirt she was wearing and the sheets beneath her. The hot shower and cozy pajamas had lulled Maki into a more relaxed state than usual, even her expression gentling from its typical resting scowl.
She could relax around Kirumi, sometimes even more than around Shuichi and Himiko. That was one of the things she loved about her. That was why she’d called for her, in fact. She was more than capable of combing through her own hair, though it took forever. She wasn’t the lazy type either. It was just an excuse, because she knew that asking to just spend time together made Kirumi restless. She needed a task.
“Certainly.” Kirumi inclined her head, and then glanced towards the dresser. After fetching the comb sitting on top of it, she walked over to the bed, sitting behind her.
She was gentle and methodical, undoing the occasional tangle so easily that Maki could barely feel it, much less be bothered by it. That touch was so intimate and impersonal all at once, tender without letting her forget about the professional boundary between maid and client. Things went on like this for a few moments, the silence suffocating. Maki hadn’t requested conversation, after all.
The beginnings of tears stung at her eyes. She wiped them away in what she thought was a discreet enough way, considering that she wasn’t facing Kirumi anyway. Apparently she was wrong.
“Are you alright, Harukawa-san?” The comb stilled in her hair. Kirumi’s voice was concerned, but still so damn distant.
“Call me Maki,” she replied. Keeping her voice steady was a herculean effort.
“Of course. As you wish, Maki-san.” A gentle hand rested against her back, rubbing at the knots of tension between her shoulder blades. She didn’t need to look to know exactly what kind of smile was on Kirumi’s face.
“No.” Speaking up this time took even more effort than before. The Maki of months ago, the one who stumbled out of the killing game, might not have been able to make herself this vulnerable at all. “Just...Maki. No honorifics. Please.” Holding her breath without meaning to, she tacked on an experimental “...Kirumi.”
There was a momentary pause, and then, “Ah...Okay. Are you alright, Maki?”
She never had answered that question, she realized, but how the hell was she supposed to? Of course she wasn’t. At the same time, this was the most alright she could possibly be. Explaining all that was too much. Too much of a pain, as Himiko would say. So she just shrugged helplessly, half-turning to bury her face in the crook of Kirumi’s neck, wrapping her arms around her.
“I just miss you,” she whispered. “All the time.” It was foolish of her to open her heart to someone in the middle of a killing game, but how could anyone resist Toujou Kirumi? Their time together was painfully short, but it was more than enough to get attached. Maki’d never had a girlfriend before.
She still had vivid nightmares about Kirumi’s execution, more than any of the other deaths. She didn’t even try to tell Shuichi or Himiko about them, choosing to give them comfort instead. She didn’t want her friends to hold her and coo well-intentioned platitudes about someday, someday, someday.
That was their hope, but she wasn’t so sure it was hers. She wasn’t sure if she could believe in someday.
“I’m sorry,” Kirumi murmured. She returned the hug at least, comb set aside and forgotten. She didn’t smell like the perfume she used in the killing game. She had her gloves on, as always, but even through them, she felt just a little too cold. Maki shivered, but didn’t pull away.
“Don’t. It’s not your fault.” Not precisely, anyway. It was a philosophy problem she didn’t care to puzzle out at the moment.
“What can I do to help?”
“Stay with me tonight,” she said, face warming in embarrassment. “Not as a request, just...like you want to. No one ever needs your help overnight anyway, right?”
“Alright.” Kirumi kept rubbing her back in slow, easy circles, and Maki felt the barest hint of a kiss being pressed to the top of her head. “I’ll do my best. Shall I finish your hair, and then we can get settled for the night?”
“Yeah, okay.” She gave her a faint smile as she broke the embrace, turning around again to let her finish. It was embarrassing, being taken care of and doted on like this, but nobody had to know. She was always the one taking care of and protecting other people. Shouldn’t it be the other way around sometimes?
Once she finished combing through it, Kirumi started braiding her hair so that it wouldn’t get tangled as she slept, all without asking. It was a sign that she really wasn’t treating this as a basic request, and that didn’t go unnoticed. Staying quiet, Maki smiled to herself as the plait was tied off with a ribbon.
She could hear a faint whirring sound coming from Kirumi. Maybe she felt happy too.