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“You need to stop moving too much, Mizu, or else I’ll chop your ear off.” The earnestness of Kiriko’s voice made Mizuki want to laugh, but the weight of the scissors against the side of his head as she trimmed the edges of his hair made his mouth stay firmly shut. Knowing his luck, she would somehow cut it off anyway.
“Sorry…” He mumbled immediately, fidgeting with his hands. A kiss was laid onto the crown of his head.
“I’m not upset.” She replied quickly, tone soft and compassionate. His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he resisted the urge to lean backwards and kiss her as he’d so often done whenever he found she was standing behind him. A love this gentle was something Mizuki never thought he’d find.
Gentle snip after gentle snip, he felt as his hair fell softly down onto Kiriko’s varnished floor. It had grown long, by his standards, in the time he'd spent scarcely going outside. Trimming and shaving it had once been a weekly ritual for him, but he found that recently he no longer had the energy for it.
Kiriko had noticed. Kiriko always noticed.
Her hand was now carefully splayed across the side of his head as she began to delicately shave the bottom of his hair. It tickled. The soft, gentle beginning of a dreamy Perry Como song drifted into his ears, along with the comforting humming of his lover. Moments like this, no matter how doubtful he was of his deserving of them, were proof that it'd all be okay in the end.
Kiriko’s thumb began to rub along the side of his head in a slow rhythm. As carefully as if she were bathing a sickly, scared animal.
“I love you.” It came out abruptly. A bright flush overtook Mizuki’s cheeks, and he had to fight in order to not duck his head down and avoid looking at anything but his hands.
She laughed. “I love you, Mizu.” His nerves began to relax a little. The buzzing of the razor faded into the background, replaced by the steady thudding of his heart and a dreamy instrumental. Everytime Kiriko came into his peripheral vision, he couldn't help but smile.
She was the only one in Kanezaka he'd let see behind the mask.
“I think,” she trilled, “that's it all done!”
He looked anxiously about him for a mirror, and Kiriko made a panicked face. “What?”
“Mm, you might not wanna look in the mirror.” A forced, awkward grin that twitched at the edges spread across her face. His heart dropped as his hands instinctively reached into his hair.
Suddenly, she exploded into laughter. “I'm joking! You look fine - no - great, actually. If I do say so myself.”
“Don't scare me like that!” Mizuki chastised half-heartedly. There was a smile on his lips.
“Oh, you should have seen your face, Mizu,” she chuckled, “it was cute.”
He pinched her cheek gently. “I know who's cute.” Kiriko stuck out her tongue in response, before grabbing his hand and leading him into the bathroom. She was right: he looked good. Hair-wise, at least. As she wiped the chopped hairs off him, he stared at himself in the mirror.
The rest of his appearance was gaunt. He'd always been naturally pale, but now he resembled a sheet of paper. His muscles had began to lose their definition, and the Miko beside him rubbed his thinning wrists tentatively.
“I'm gonna have to fatten you up, aren't I?” The tone was light, but her eyes were dark and heavy. He nodded silently. “Are you into donuts again yet?”
A grin pulled at his lips. “I can be convinced.”
“Well… Lucky for us, there's some in the fridge.” She cupped his cheek in her hand. “But you'll need more than that.”
“I can cook dinner.”
The definition of incredulous flashed across Kiriko’s face. “You mean you can cook more than ramen?”
“Hey! You know I can.” He swatted at her playfully, enjoying her giggles.
“Cooking might be a stretch, actually. I seem to remember that last time you forgot the seasoning for the broth.”
“That was one time, Kiriko.” He sighed, shaking his head.
“One time, last week.” She beamed, dancing past him to leave the bathroom. She was right, of course, he had in fact forgotten the seasoning for the broth in a pack of instant noodles. He was also a very talented chef when he had the time and presence of mind for it. But he'd pretend he wasn't if it meant she got a giggle out of teasing him.
It took Mizuki a minute or so to realise they were still in the bathroom. He could feel Kiriko’s eyes on his back as he stared at himself in the mirror. Something was off. Something easily fixable. He blinked.
Eyeliner. Right.
The only makeup by the sink was Kiriko’s.
“Fuck.”
“Something wrong?” Her hands rested on his shoulders, warm and reassuring.
Slightly ashamed over his extreme reaction, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Um... I've run out of eyeliner.”
“... Use mine?”
He paused. “No, Kiriko. It's yours. And I'm not saying you're dirty but that's the easiest way to get an eye infection that I'm not looking for.”
“I've got an unopened one.” She shrugged, reaching beyond him to grab the bottle.
“Yeah, but… That's yours.”
“Yours now.” It was pressed into his hand. Smooth. Round. Something steady. He tried to not let his watery emotions get the better of him.
“Are you sure?” There was the slightest of cracks in his voice.
“Positive. It's yours now, Mizu. Use it all you like.” She planted a kiss on his cheek, and sashayed back out of the bathroom. The way she had so simply given what was hers to him filled Mizuki with feelings he daren’t try to analyse. There'd been a lot of feelings like that recently.
His hand closed firmly over the small bottle. “Kiriko?”
She popped back into the room, a whirl of blue swirling around her. “Yeah?”
“Can you do my eyeliner for me?” He hoped his eyes did not look like they were begging. “Please.” He added.
A grin spread across her face. “I'm giving you a real makeover tonight, aren't I?” She pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bathtub, immediately lifting his chin to let his eyes catch the light. Her grip was comfortingly firm.
“Just no glitter, please.”
“Aw…” There seemed to be genuine disappointment in her tone.
“You can paint my nails if you really want glitter.” At that, Kiriko immediately perked up, the eyeliner bottle nearly flying out of her hands as she shook it all too excitedly. He smiled softly at the reaction, the image imprinting itself into his mind as he closed his eyes.
A familiar coldness wrapped around his eyes as she applied the eyeliner. It felt far more precise than anything he could hope to achieve. But it would make him feel at least somewhat like himself again.
“I'm so jealous of your skin.”
Mizuki spluttered a little. “That sounds really creepy.”
“You know what I mean,” he just knew that she was rolling her eyes, “it's so clear! And you only use sunscreen, not even moisturiser.”
“That stuff gets expensive.” He shrugged. There had only been one time he'd bought moisturiser, and it was for Kiriko.
“You'd look cute in a face mask.” There was mischief in her voice. He braced himself for the next round of what was turning into a spa night. “Y’know, I have a few spares.” She had more than a few spares.
“We still need to make dinner.”
“... What about a takeaway?” He wasn't going to say no to that.
~~~
When Kiriko finally deemed her work good enough to be shown to him in the mirror, Mizuki was apprehensive. It felt like it'd taken her ages to even do one eye. But when he looked, there was nothing but relief. His eyes were now black-rimmed, with the shyest of wings attached. A smile pulled at his lips.
“Is it good?” Her voice perked up from behind him. Turning, he took her hands gently.
“More than that.” He finally felt a little more like himself again. The eyeliner had been something he'd started doing as an edgy teenager, when he'd been too afraid of any other act that could be seen as rebellious. But he'd ended up continuing with it for so long that his face always seemed a little empty without it.
Kiriko pulled him into a hug, laying a soft kiss on his shoulder. Her warmth enveloped him. “Ramen for dinner?”
“Isn't Gozan about to close?” He murmured into her ear, hesitant to pull away.
“Ryōta owes me a favour.”
Mizuki didn't reply, only giving her a kiss to the forehead and a nod as she reluctantly moved out of their embrace.
The phone call Kiriko made was brief, and it seemed like the next minute there were two hot bowls of noodles nestled in her hands. It was just as she set them down on the counter that the loud rumbles of thunder erupted in the distance. “What perfect timing.”
“Surely that wasn’t the favour?” Mizuki said, picking up his bowl and moving over to the sofa.
She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. “Ha ha. Even if it was, would you complain?” Within an instant, she appeared beside him, head on his shoulder and blue wisps gently tumbling as they faded. He kissed the side of her head whilst she picked out a trashy romcom to watch.
“No, “ another crack of thunder, “I would not.”