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As affectionate as he is, he doesn’t let just anyone touch his hair. Hell, he can’t even trust barbers anymore. And yet, here he is, trusting Yeonsu with the task of giving him his beloved punch perm. The bench at the piano now serves as a makeshift barber chair.
“Where’d you even get this stuff?”
All the equipment laid on the piano cover looked like brand new, top of the line equipment. Yeonsu continues to mindlessly fluff Ichiban’s hair upwards, planning on where would be best to start.
“Saeko-san was a Cabaret manager, was she not? She had no problem with letting me borrow this... so long as I don’t break it.”
Ah, he didn’t spend a single yen. That’s even better.
“Heh, I always knew you were a fashion snob, but I didn’t think you actually did hair.”
It was an offer he couldn’t refuse, and of course the Master didn’t mind that they were using his bar as a barber shop for a short while. Ichiban chuckles, “Did Seung-hui have you trim her ends, too?”
“At times, yes.” Yeonsu can tell Ichiban asked it as a joke, but it’s hardly a joking matter to him. Whatever Seung-hui asked of him, he would do. “I’d have to touch up her roots, too.”
“For real? Wouldn’t it be easier to get a professional to do that?”
Yeonsu smirks, combing Ichiban’s hair with one hand, an electric razor in the other, “Are you doubting my skills, Kasuga-san?”
“Not at all, well…” He thinks a little bit more, nervously glancing at the mirror in front of him. “I am a little nervous.” After all, he went to a professional and she ended up giving him the main he’s been stuck with up until now. Yeonsu is skilled, but a punch perm is apparently that difficult to do.
“Well, don’t worry.” The loud buzz from the razor has Ichiban’s heart starting to race, worried for his hair, but also excited at the potential of having his hair fixed into his beloved punch perm once more. “I assure you, it’ll be the best perm you’ve ever had.”
“Heh, when you say it, I can believe it.” Ichiban leans his head back, but right away, he knew something was amiss.
“Uhm… suppose we couldn’t have gotten a chair with a back on it?”
“You’re just going to have to stay still, for the time.”
“Heh, got it.”
Another part of getting his haircut was the intimacy. Sure, it was surface level,the hair stylist was just doing their job. But Ichiban savored that part the most. Part of him wishes he could have Yeonsu wash his hair out before hand, his hands caressing his hair with a nice foamy lather and warm water, stray drops trickling down the back of his neck. The thought sends a tingle down his spine.
He does feel the very real sensation of the electric razer running over his head, cutting off all the excess hair not much unlike how a sheep has its wool sheared.
“Are you alright?” Yeonsu asks, even if it’s too late to back down.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” Actually, that first swipe had Ichiban feeling more than assured. Despite their surroundings, Yeonsu is treating this with the utmost care, as he goes in again and again. Ichiban can feel his head growing lighter as locks of unwanted hair start to fall onto his shoulders, and the bench, and on the ground below.
Yeonsu sets the razor down on the piano cover, “Hang on a second. Don’t move your head.”
Before Ichiban can even ask, Yeonsu unzips his heavy blank trench coat and drapes it over Ichiban’s shoulder, “Here you go, it’ll work as a barber cover.”
“Oh… uh, thank you.” Ichiban smiles giddily. Yeonsu’s hand cups the side of his head as he grabs the razor once more, and continues to shave his hair down to the perfect length.
“This coat is actually really comfy.” Ichiban says, he closes his eyes, loose hair fluttering down his face, “I can see why you wear it alot.” That, and Yeonsu’s body heat was still radiating off of it, alongside the smell of floral cologne on Yeonsu’s natural aroma.
“I wouldn’t wear it. I aim for something comfortable, fashionable and practical. People seem to think that it’s impossible to find all three.”
The razor glides along the side of his temple, and Ichiban feels like he’s about to purr. Yeonsu’s words blend into the background, mixed with the electric buzz of the razor. Blissed out, Ichiban just loses himself to the feeling of being tended to. Being cared for, inhaling every breath fills his lungs with the smell of Yeonsu that wafts from his jacket. For the first time, he feels his body completely void of stress.
Yeonsu stops talking when he realizes Ichiban isn’t really listening. Normally he’d be offended when his words would fall on deaf ears, but this was for Ichiban’s pleasure, not his own. Yeonsu would be selfish sometimes, but he knows he was made to serve others, even if the choice to do so wasn’t originally his own to make. It’s what he knows best. The original Joon-gi was dead, and Seung-hui never called upon him ever since she took control of the Liuminang.
“I’m going to curl your hair now.”
Ichiban didn’t even open his eyes, “Okay.”
“It’ll take a while for it to warm up.” Yeonsu says when he turns on the curler.
“Oh.” There’s pressure on the side of Ichiban’s head as Yeonsu starts to rub slow circles on his temples with the tips of his fingers. “They never did that.”
“What did I say, Kasuga-san?” Yeonsu asks, “I go above and beyond for whoever I serve.”
“Don’t say it like that.” Ichiban chuckles, “I hate the thought of being served. You’re my friend, you know that.”
“Always so humble.” The massage ends far too quickly for Kasuga’s liking. Yeonsu rubs heat protectant in Kasuga’s hair, and grabs the curler and starts to do little sections.. He moves slowly, bit by bit, but not lingering longer than needed. Kasuga just feels warm all over, the curler, the jacket, the giddy feeling that's filling his chest.
It all feels like it ends too soon. What was actually an hour only felt like 15 minutes of Yeonsu transforming his short cut into the punch perm of his dreams. A few more minutes of Yeonsu cleaning up the sides with careful snips of his scissors, making sure there wasn't a stray hair in sight, and Ichiban’s eyes flutter open to the mirror that was placed in front of him, and his jaw nearly drops.
It was perfect.
He goes up to touch his hair, scrunched up and curled perfectly into that tight, tough haircut he’s been missing for 20 years. Yeonsu’s lips curl upwards with pride, watching Ichiban’s reaction in the mirror, “Is it good?”
“G-good? This is more than good!” Ichiban stands up. He feels ecstatic, like a piece of him long lost was finally given back to him. For all the things he lost, he feels so joyus to have something as simple as his hair style back.
He turns around and wraps his arms around Yeonsu, still wearing his jacket loosely draped around his shoulders. Yeonsu just smiles and wraps his arms around Kasuga, looking him right in the eye as they hold each other. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I-I love it.”
“Hmph.” Yeonsu leans upwards, and presses a kiss where Ichiban’s hairline ends. “I have to say, a punch perm suits you better.”