"I know you are stupid," Saruhiko said flatly, dead fish eyes with no emotion whatsoever. "but you always manage to be even stupider than my prediction."
"Shut up! It's just an accident!" Yata grumbled, hand rubbing over the back of his head. There was still a somewhat stinging pain nibbled at the roots of his hairs. Sucks. "It's not my fault that I fell against a goddamned wall!"
Saruhiko just raised an eyebrow at him, totally unimpressed.
Fine, okay, maybe he had been just a tiny little bit dumb, whatever. He was too focused on talking about the newest video game to pay proper attention to the ground. God dammit, to slip on a banana skin in broad daylight and in the middle of a crowded street, just how fucking embarrassing was that? And that wall just had to be there!
"I hope you didn't kill off the already small amount of brain cells you have."
Yata stuck a to tongue out. "Hell no. Having a hard head has its benefit, don't you know?"
"What is 1+1?"
"Hey!"
"What is the plural form of puppy?"
"Stop making fun of me already!"
The teasing were annoying, but Saruhiko was smiling and playing with Yata's hair from behind, so it was fine somehow. Gzee. He was aware that it wasn't a fair tradeoff by any mean. You monkey think everything can be solved just by putting on a little happy expression, huh? Huh? W-Well…technically you ain't that wrong. Still. Bleh.
"Turn this way, Misaki." Saruhiko's voice was gentle, so Yata obeyed without resistance, turning his head a bit to the left as he was guided by the slender fingers on his head.
"What is it?"
There was a slight pause as the taller boy stared at Yata's head injury and stroked some stray hairs near it. Then, a soft, amused laugh escaped the Saruhiko's pale lips. It was a melodious sound, rare and precious like a crystal gem. And Yata couldn't help but feel like the richest person alive in this entire world.
"I think you need to do something about your hair. Your injury makes it look like you're going bald."
"What! Give me a mirror! Where's the mirror?" Scrambling over the bed to pick up the cheap hand mirror that he'd brought from his family home, Yata twisted his neck painfully to get a good look at the supposed hairless spot. "Uwhoa, it's true! I can see some head skin t-there. What the hell!"
He made a terrible mistake of imagining himself ten years later with a bald head.
…
…
"Kill me."
"Don't be so dramatic, Misaki."
"Just kill meeeeeeee."
"Tsk. It's just a spot. If you trim your hair right it'll be fine."
Okay, a haircut sounded like a reasonable solution. His hair was getting way too long anyway. Hm. But he had always had his hair cut by his mom - the idea of having a stranger approaching one of his most vulnerable body parts with a sharp object wasn't a comfortable thought. Furthermore, the snip snip clacking sound of the scissors was hella irritating, to the point he wanted to break free and ran off for whatever stupid reason.
"We don't have money for that stuff, though." Yata muttered instead while looking away, red face and narrowed eyebrows. Lame. So lame.
As expected, Saruhiko saw right through it as a glint of amusement flashed in his blue eyes. Yata held his breath, waiting for another mocking smirk or a teasing joke coming his way. Somehow it had become a conditional reflex – one of the (many, many) cons of being friends with such a smart but sharp-tongued person like Saruhiko.
He didn't expect being given a light pat on the top of his head, though.
"I am used to fix my own hair. Your hairstyle is quite common, it can't be that hard to cut."
"E-Er? Wait, are you saying-!?"
"If you want to, that is." Saruhiko's voice switched to defensive with just the tiniest amount of sulkiness, somewhat like a stubborn child attempting to act tough.
Yata tried to imagine Saruhiko standing behind him, scissors in right hand, left hand brushing through the locks right above his nape. If it was any other person, he would feel a wave of annoyance crashing over his chest. Yet, now there was nothing but a blanket of warmth wrapping him all over from head to toe. Maybe he had already been cured? Huh…when?
Whatever, not like it was a huge matter anyway. More importantly, Saruhiko really could do anything, couldn't he? Amazing!
"Ah, yes! Of course! I want to, please!"
"…Hm."
With all that said, after a quick shower Yata gathered several old wrapping papers, a ragged towel and a comb while Fushimi dug out a pair of scissors from seemingly nowhere (Yata couldn't even remember if they actually owned it or not – it looked like the kind of scissors used for cooking, however he was sure as hell that he had never seen it in their kitchen ever).
Staring at the not-so-suitable-for-haircut tool, Yata cringed visibly. "That…are you sure?"
"Would you rather like a knife?" A click of tongue, accompanied by a deadpan look. "Or a razor-blade, perhaps?"
It sounded kind of cool, actually.
…But heck no.
"Ugh. Pass."
"Then shut up and behave."
Yata shot back a rebellious glare but sat down as ordered anyway. Saruhiko kneeled down behind him and combed his hair steadily, azure eyes sharpened the way they always did when encountering tough yet interesting problems. On the other hand, the sight of the real sharp scissors made Yata feel a tad fidgety though it was nowhere near as strong as his usual discomfort. It was more like he felt a little nervous of being Saruhiko's object of concentration than the actual cutting deal. He felt the other boy's intense gaze on him and it sent a weird tingling sensation all over his neck, which made him unintentionally tremble a little in appreciation.
The hand brushing his hair stopped immediately. The heavy silence dragged on for about fifteen seconds until Yata got confused enough to glance back.
Saruhiko was looking away, all pouty and sullen and sort of flustered.
Oh.
Haha~
"Idiot Saru." Yata laughed fondly. "Of course I trust you, okay?"
"Sappy. What stupid idea just jumped into your head?" As a childish revenge or something, Saruhiko huffed and cut a chunk of strands at the back of the neck mercilessly in one sharp motion. "Tsk, whatever." Then to apologize, Saruhiko started to nick a clever line through the sideburn all the way up to the ear. Every snip seemed louder and more confident than the last, leaving a trait of red strands behind like falling autumn leaves.
The fingers running through his hair felt really nice, Yata thought lazily. They were everywhere, delicate and careful and their familiar weight gave off such a peaceful aura. Sometimes they would brush stray hairs off to another side, sometimes they would pick a lock up with just the right pulling force, and sometimes the deft digits kissed along his scalp like loving guardian angels. It was as if Saruhiko was playing piano on his hair. A soft, tender melody, that of a lullaby.
Before Yata knew it, his eyes had closed in order to savor the wonderful sentiment. A feathery happiness enveloped his mind and sang him to sleep, as sweetly as a touch of warm honey drops on dry lips.
"Misaki?"
Somewhere inbetween fleeting dreams, Yata thought he sensed Saruhiko's fingers grazed through his fringe, playing the final chorus. How strange, he would never pick a piano as his representational musical instrument, but Saruhiko always managed to cast unknown magic upon him, making him feel like he could be everything and more and better.
And then, the last note came with the briefest weight on his right eyelid. Something, so soft and pure it almost ached, was placed upon there like the most precious crown being laid into the king's last treasure chest.
Yata smiled and mumbled a sleepily thank you.
.
.
(The haircut was indeed great, as Yata woke up an hour later to see for himself. "You're officially my barber from now on!", he yelled on top of his lungs to Saruhiko who also had just roused from a nap beside him. Saruhiko's answer was a cocky smirk, so the deal was settled.)
.
.
.
(A year and a half later, Yata tried to learn how to cut his own hair despite Totsuka's offer of help – because even Totsuka's deft hands felt so uncomfortable and awkward and just wrong. His hair ended up too messy, if not plainly stupid, so he threw the scissors to the wall and went out to buy a beanie.)