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e T E R N A L
kairiku collection x;
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ii . hair-cut ;;
One of the first things Kairi wanted to do upon returning home was to cut Riku's hair.
She came armed to his house the next day, scissors in hand. When Riku opened the door, he was tangled between two instantaneous conclusions: either Kairi had suffered from mental illness while they were away and converted to regularly practicing psychopathic rituals, or he had agreed to some kind of project yesterday without meaning to.
Whichever one it was, he didn't open the door a crack wider than the tenuous fissure that revealed only his face and a line of body to the girl standing on the porch.
"Kairi, what's up?" He felt his palm beginning to grow moist on the round doorknob. It was highly likely that he was perspiring because of what he (secretly) dreaded Kairi was plotting, but that was not the only thing on his mind. It had been a while since they had been with each other on a regular, normal basis. Now it was just like the old days whenever she came over to his house – except following puberty.
Her eyes fixed on what was up: his hair. It had become much fluffier, along with lengthier, so that it was almost poofy. The tumble of blue-tinctured hair gnawed on her nerves and to herself she saw it as remarkably feminine. She could barely see his iceberg eyes behind the curtain that was his bangs.
"Come in." The moment of groping silence made up for an 'er' or 'um' before that statement. The door opened. He was safe; for now.
He stood back to let her by (it wasn't exactly necessary, as her frame was so slight that she could have passed as a specter gliding through a wall into the room) and curiously ducked into the hallway.
In a quiet way, they mutually agreed that it had indeed been a long time.
Kairi, however, was partially used to seeing Riku's household at its current state. During the two boys' absence she began to visit their houses, at first to simply comfort and reassure their worried guardians. Then she started to come over more frequently and roam the hallways where they had played for so many years, in rooms that were collecting dust and forgetfulness. Her visits soon became sleepovers with herself and the phantasms of the male keyblade wielders, their parents allowing it though with worried looks plastered on their faces, or quiet, sympathetic tones in their voices.
Kairi liked Riku's place the most, with his tranquil room of soft blue hues by the ocean, always kept immaculate with or without his mother there to fret over it. Her trips to the other missing boy's house ceased, mainly because her memory of him had likewise: but now she was beginning to become convinced that she preferred the platinum-headed teen's residence more so than the brunette's after lying on his covers countless times and staring up at the ceiling without really seeing it. Instead, she'd see all those times spent in that room that she could remember and count in her head if she wanted to. All of this was done without Riku's knowledge, and who knew – perhaps it'd stay that way as her little secret (though she wanted to tell – girls weren't good at making promises to themselves).
His parents weren't home. As much as they wanted to be with their son who was gone for more than a year, they had to eventually succumb to more necessary tasks. Such tasks included clothes shopping for a boy who has grown nearly a foot taller than the rest of his friends, and grocery shopping for an extra stomach to feed once again. Riku pushed the going to the mall offer for later and stayed home instead to basically snack on what was available (which wasn't much). It was as though he somehow foretold Kairi's visit.
In fact, a small crinkled bag of potato chips had appeared in his hand, and he crunched noisily on the paper-thin slices of salt-and-oil goodness. After a moment of consideration, Kairi revolved around to face him, and in turn he offered her some Lay's. Her crystalline blue eyes blinked for she had not expected this act of kindness, and then she simply classified it as inevitable. With a delicate shake of her head and wave of her hand (still holding the lethal object in it – Riku ducked as its sharpened point swung past his skull), the one dressed in pink refused.
"You never used to like junk food, Riku," She hoped he hadn't transformed into Sora, the King of All That Provides Cavities. Candies, desserts, snacks; you name it, he ate it. It was a wonder he remained so thin, all though the credit most likely went to a high metabolism and his strenuous journeys. "It makes you fat."
"You never used to bring knives to my house without explaining their purpose here." He quipped, anon glancing down at his slim stomach. "Wait, fat?" Albeit the truth would come fifteen years from now, a smile was attained on her face at Riku's incredulous expression, cheeks still full of half-grounded and processed bulbous root.
She waved her hand once more in attenuate impatience. "Oh, this?" The harmlessness was not quite reassuring. Kairi's visage suddenly turned sneaky, stepping back down to business. "C'mon." Little warning or no, she still snatched his wrist and dragged him towards his bedroom, guiding and steering him through the corridors, the knotty action reminding him of a cattle drive. His feeling of apprehension increased. On the way he left a trail of potato chips as they dribbled from the up-turned sack onto the cream-coloured carpet. Maybe the trail of breadcrumbs would aid his escape. Half-way to their destination, Riku eventually gave up and dropped the bag, simulating kissing the hope of redemption goodbye.
He paused outside the doorway, heels sinking into the rug and forcing Kairi to halt with him, as she could no longer pull weight that was determined to remain at rest. "What is this about, Kairi?" His suspicion was nearly made out into a snarl that caused her to recoil. She frowned in return, trying to match his very masculine sneer though only succeeding on contorting her face in contemplative anguish. She raised her hand; it reached out and yanked a lock of his silvery hair that was past his shoulders.
"I'm just going to cut your hair." When he griped, she whined. Her innocuous statement was intertwined with incorruption; but one could never be too sure. Especially Riku, as he thought, drinking in the threat of sharpened objects made into projectiles shooting towards his way. Though, as he recalled, he had been the one who had given her a keyblade.
Feeling a little regret?
The 16 year-old pondered blurting out more incredulous denials – What hair? Why does my hair need cutting? – Yet decided both of them had had enough of announcing the apparent. Once more he allowed himself to be led by the redhead, and sat down on the edge of his bed which was currently unmade (and would be for as long as he remained in this household, again). Kairi crawled up behind him, tucking her long, thin legs beneath her as dainty as a cat. She kneeled, poised and ready to snip, snip away all of Riku's troubles – at the moment, his hair.
Riku still looked annoyed while his friend was content at him succumbing to her newly acquired skills in hair-cutting. Truthfully, it did not take much to be able to cut hair – as long as it got shorter, then everything was okay.
She nearly had the steel blade touching the cornflower blue cascade when Riku twitched his head a little to talk, ruining her position. With a soft and vaguely frustrated sigh, she had to start over again.
"Are you cutting Sora's hair after mine, or has he already been checked off of your to-do list?" Kairi shook her head as a no, remembered he couldn't see it, and spoke up.
"Sora's hair doesn't need to be cut. It's fine as it is. Yours, on the other hand, looks like Christina Aguilera's old 'do." Those two outspoken claims aroused a more heated reaction from Riku, causing the girl to further pause her work.
"What! His hair defies gravity. Those spikes could be as lethal of a weapon as your scissors. And I do not look like that singer chick." His brawny arms folded over his chest in a stubborn, final way, and Kairi lifted her other hand to muffle a giggle.
"I never said you did. Be quiet, please, if you don't want me to accidentally nick you." Riku could have sworn he heard visual italics on 'accidentally.'
Eventually the crescendo of whispers made from the scissors in motion induced relaxation onto the two of them. Riku shed his tension of animosity similar to how he was shedding his hair and Kairi shed her caution of actually hurting the former as she dug herself further into the art of hair cutting. Along with the tentative then more sporty music of the composition, Riku imagined the flicking of her fragile wrist, the clicking of her delicately curved thumb and index finger as they held the complex machine that was both wedge and lever in a teacup grip. Snippets of hair like flower petals drifted down, dead, blending in with the pale coloured sheets of the bed and vanishing.
Not ten minutes into the performance, Kairi's movements gradually slowed. Her brimming cobalt eyes were fixed on the back of Riku's head, tracing the lines of each strand of hair that gently swept out at the tips, due to her fancy thinning technique. She was suddenly in love with his hair.
"It's so fine, like silk . . ." She murmured, as if in a trance. Her fingers extended to touch it.
"Done?" Riku inquired, obviously having not heard her fawning. His voice seemed to make her snap out of her reverie.
"Oh." Blink. "Yes." The girl turned her shoulder slightly, rummaging through the black pack she had slung over her other one and found a mirror (since Riku lacked one in his room and at her own courtesy she would not make him walk to the bathroom when he was full of digesting potato chips). Halting protest, her arm curled around Riku's to hold it up in front of him. He examined his new hair with a brand of satisfaction (it was slightly longer than how he had it a year before, but not by so much). The mirror's lens switched views, now showing Kairi's smiling face behind him. He smiled back ever so slightly, provoking her lips to stretch wider than his could probably ever reach.
"Do you like it?" Her question was dribbled with maple syrup, drizzling over his ears, sensitive to the high concentration of sugary sweetness.
Riku wasn't focused on his hair now. He was still watching Kairi's face in the other half of the mirror. Her pale, pretty face.
"Yes. Very much."
"See," She giggled just like when they were younger, "I knew you would."
He somehow knew it too. Maybe just gazing upon that cherubic façade had been proof from the beginning, before it was seen hovering above his doorstep, even back to its very origin of existence.
I could love you forever, Riku thought.
I always thought the same, Kairi's expression read.
He felt fingers trailing down the locks of hair at his shoulders, and then weave into his hand. He held onto it soundly, like life support, as they silently observed how much they had changed – and in the end, remained the same, after all.
a.u thor 's n.o te;;
I know the sentence structure of this is horrible – dreadful – and confusing. I believe I was either lost or was trying to prove a point (to which is unknown to me at the moment and will most likely be forever until I am 80 and apparently still playing Kingdom Hearts, which by then will be KH57 or something along the lines of that). The whole thing is even more devastating, since the dialogue was bland and… well, just lame. But what the hey. The pairing makes up for my writing incompetence.