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The mirror was a hunter, and Korekiyo its prey.
Whenever he met his own eyes in the reflection, they flinched, ashamed of what they saw there. There was no explanation for it--they simply couldn't. All those things that had come easy before were now sisyphean tasks without rhyme or reason to their purpose. The mirror betrayed the weariness in his eyes, the unending dark circles that seemed to pop up even on those days when he slept for twelve hours at a time.
He began to hate those dull, lifeless eyes.
Not that the rest of him was any better.
His skin, pale and breaking out, his clothes, disheveled and sweaty, his hair, tangled and matted, all of it embarrassing and awful and endless--
It wasn't long before Kiyo stopped attending class. He couldn't stomach being seen in public like that, and he somehow couldn't pull himself together enough to take care of it.
Instead, they stayed inside, and laid in bed, and hated themself more for it every day. He avoided looking at himself at all. It would just make things worse. It was hard to keep away from the mirror entirely in his tiny, cramped dorm room, but when he never left his bed, that wasn't much of an issue in the first place. Classes that used to be the highlight of Kiyo's days were skipped without a second thought. Books laid open on his desk, unfinished and neglected. Their phone vibrated endlessly with check-ins and dinner invitations from friends and emails from concerned professors that all went unread and ignored.
Kiyo didn't even know why. None of it made any sense.
And every day, their hair just got more and more tangled.
One day, Korekiyo's stark avoidance of the mirror twisted into something entirely the opposite; a magnetic yet hate-inducing attraction. Instead of looking away every time he had to walk by, he stared at himself for minutes at a time. He hated it, but he couldn't ever rip his gaze away. All he saw was everything that was wrong. And, good gods, there was so, so much of it.
His hair, his eyes, his clothes, his skin, his hands, his neck, his--
Kiyo ran his thin, spindly fingers--too long, too ugly, too everything--through his dark hair. Almost immediately, his hand caught painfully in the tangles that had been working into themselves for weeks. Kiyo yanked their fingers through the strands, forcing it to pull all the way through, and winced as a few hairs were pulled from their scalp. Kiyo bit his lower lip to stop himself from whining at the sharp bit of pain. This was simply too much.
An energy that was somehow both lethargic and manic rushed through Kiyo, and before he could lose it, he scrambled for the medicine cabinet mounted to the cinder brick wall. He pulled out his cheap, plastic hairbrush that had been neglected for far too many weeks. He bashed it against his head, the bristles instantly getting caught in the tangles and ripping out even more of his hair. The first stroke got stuck just inches in. Kiyo just forced the brush through, bit back tears, and stared at it in horror when there was a huge clump of hair stuck between the bristles when they pulled it away.
Had he really let himself go this much? How humiliating.
In a fury, and almost as an act of defiance against some undefinable foe, Kiyo just kept going. The hairbrush was his weapon and his own scalp was the enemy to be beaten into submission. Every stroke was more painful and every motion hurt, but Kiyo just kept going until their head felt raw and red and swollen.
He should have been used to it by that point, but how was one supposed to adapt to something so painful?
When his roommate Kaito walked in, Korekiyo was practically in tears and sprawled across the floor by their dorm room’s sink.
“Hey, bro, how’s it…" Kaito trailed off when they caught sight of him, his concern quickly leaking into his voice. "Whoa, Kiyo, are you okay?”
Kaito rushed over and rested a strong, comforting hand on Korekiyo's shoulder, shaking them slightly to make sure they were alright. The motion jolted Kiyo out of the daze. He resisted the urge to pull away and insist he was fine. He closed his narrow eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling the dull pulse of a headache simmering beneath his skin. Of course.
"Ah... it appears you've discovered me in a rather vulnerable state," Kiyo huffed, trying incredibly hard to make his voice flat and emotionless. He didn't do it very well. Kaito knew. Kaito probably knew everything.
Gods, Korekiyo was foolish. What did he expect?
"Quit talking like that!" Kaito insisted. He slumped down on the floor next to his roommate, crossing his legs in front of him and casually rocking back and forth a bit. "C'mon, just tell me what's going on! I'm totally here for you."
Kiyo forced an awkward laugh.
"I assure you, there is nothing to be concerned abou--"
"Shut it," Kaito insisted, gently knocking Kiyo in the shoulder. "Tell me what's wrong."
That was all it took for Kiyo's facade to unravel at the speed of light.
"I- I... I think I should shave all my hair. It- it's too tangled to save," Kiyo said, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence. They sucked in a harsh, ragged breath and pressed the back of their head against the cool wall behind them. It helped a little bit with the burning, lingering pain from the assault he'd just done to his hair, but in a way, also just reminded him of it. The words sat crooked and wrong in their stomach as they spoke, but what other option was there? It was a bit too late to salvage anything. Kiyo had ruined this with his neglect. Just as he eventually ruined everything he cared about.
They should have expected this, really.
Once again, Kiyo forced himself to speak, resenting the weakness in his voice as he did. "Kaito... can you help me? Please?" Their voice shattered, and Kiyo had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself from dying of humiliation. "I simply don't think I can do it by myself."
Kaito was silent for a long time.
A very long time.
Finally, Kiyo grew impatient and chanced a look at him. To their surprise, he was giving them a soft smile.
"Yeah, sure, if that's what you want," Kaito finally said. He thought for a moment and tapped his chin a few times, then said, almost as an afterthought, "do you really want to get rid of all your pretty hair? You used to be so proud of it, so I guess I just want to make sure this is really what you want. I know it'll grow back, so it’s not the end of the world or anything, but you should be sure before deciding something like that, y'know?"
Kiyo looked at the floor, running his finger between the gap in the linoleum tiles and refusing to meet Kaito's eye. "I'd rather not, if I had the option," they eventually admitted. "But I'm afraid I've neglected it for far to long to be salvageable."
Kaito nodded and hummed. "Yeah, I get it. You've been having a rough time these past few weeks, so who can really blame you for something like that? Tell you what, let me try to untangle it first. If it doesn't work, and you're still sure, I'll help you shave it afterward. But just let me try to get it undone first. Alright?"
Kiyo already knew it was pointless, but he didn't have the energy to protest it, so he nodded silently. What could it hurt? To his surprise, Kaito practically lit up.
"Oh, yay! I'll figure this out, trust me! I can get that hair of yours all untangled, or my name isn't Kaito Momota, luminary of the stars!"
"That's quite the dramatic declaration," Kiyo grumbled, but Kaito didn't hear it, because he was already up and bustling around his side of the room, rummaging through his desk drawers for some mysterious combination of items. When he joined Kiyo on the floor once again, his eyes were shining. In his arms, he clutched a large comb and several different bottles. Kiyo wasn't sure if he should be impressed or alarmed at the suddenness of it all.
"You just... have these items on hand?" They asked incredulously. Kaito smirked.
"You think I can look this cool without putting any effort into it?" He teased, running a hand through his ridiculously- spiked hair. "This takes work, baby!"
At that, Kiyo couldn't help but laugh. "Fine, fine, you make a fair point. In that case, I suppose I am in your capable hands. I... I trust you."
The words came out more vulnerable than he'd meant them, but Kaito didn't seem to care. He just grinned, then looked down at his two bottles of hair product. He eventually chose one and set the other aside.
"Here, this is leave- in conditioner," he explained, lathering a generous glob of it over both of his hands. "This will help it get de-tangled.
He reached out and gently spread the thick cream over Kiyo's scalp.
Kiyo's mind went blank.
No, not blank.
Too busy.
All he could think about was her.
"Sit still, Korekiyo! I'm not asking, I'm telling you."
She pulled at his hair and forced him back into his seat. Korekiyo cried and tried to pry her hands off of his scalp.
It didn't work. She was too strong.
"Stop it, stop! That hurts," he sobbed uselessly. He shouldn't have bothered at all. Defiance just made her angrier.
"It wouldn't hurt if you stayed still like a good boy," she reprimanded, her voice full of barbs. "Now, just stay there for a second longer and let me finish your hair."
Korekiyo tried, he truly, truly did. He didn't want to make her angry, but it was so hard to stay still when all of it hurt so much. He tried to stay seated and not to wriggle or cry out, but it just hurt so, so badly.
She slicked his hair back and pulled it into a too- tight ponytail.
It hurt.
It always hurt.
"Kiyo, you alright?"
The question was gentle, non-judgemental.
Kiyo squeezed his eyes shut and felt a loose tear slip free from each of them. Kaito had drawn his hands back, and was looking at him with a concerned expression.
Gods, he was so kind, so good.
He was nothing like her.
Kiyo exhaled and nodded once.
"My sister is the only one who's ever touched my hair before today," he said, a false calm lacing his voice. "It just... reminded me of her. It's not your fault."
That was all the explanation that Kaito needed. The two of them had spoken extensively about Kiyo’s rocky past previously, and Kaito knew full well how negative Kiyo’s associations with his older sister were.
“Shit, dude, I'm so sorry! Do you still want me to...?" The question trailed off, unfinished, but Kiyo still knew what he wanted to ask.
Slowly, they reached up and stroked a strand of their oily, tangled, disheveled hair. He didn't like living like this. He wanted his hair back to normal. He wanted her gone from his mind... the irrational fear, the bad associations... all of it.
They needed to move on from her.
And who would be better to help with that than Kaito? Kaito, who was Kiyo’s closest companion in the universe, who was so kind and strong and good, who was loud, but always gentle, always sincere.
So he nodded.
"Yes, please," he said to Kaito. "Just... go slow,"
If it were anyone else, the request would have been humiliating. But it was Kaito, for crying out loud! No one else was better at putting Kiyo at ease. He just had that air about him.
"Sure thing, boss," Kaito gave a jaunty, two- fingered salute. "As slow as you want."
Once again, he started to run the conditioner through Kiyo's hair. At first, their mind screamed that someone else’s hands in his hair was wrong and dangerous—pulled hair and yanking and yelling and shoving and screaming—but once they were able to put the surge of panic aside and promise to themself that they were safe, it actually felt... rather nice. Kaito’s hands almost felt like a massage. Kiyo might have been imagining it, but the slow movements started to feel as though they were alleviating his ever- present headache, as well. After a few more minutes of Kaito’s strong but gentle hands methodically brushing through his hair, Kiyo felt the tension in his neck and shoulders slowly begin to melt away. His sister was still there in the back of his mind, but Kaito’s steady presence was so much bigger… so much more.
He was so much more than she had ever been.
When Kaito began to slowly comb through the knots in Kiyo’s hair, his touches still unbelievably light and painless. It was an unfamiliar, alien, feeling, but not an unwelcome one. Kiyo simply didn't know how to react to something so kind and soft.
Kaito started at the bottom, with the ragged ends of Kiyo’s hair. He moved slowly and with intention, always, working at each little snag until it was gone.
And Kiyo was shocked at how painless it was.
Sure, there were still little tugs here and there, but it was undeniably less noticeable than it had been during Kiyo’s previous attempts to work out the knots.
It was all just… so easy.
When Kiyo felt a snag in the comb, instead of flinching away, he knew not to panic. Kaito worked at it gently and methodically until there wasn't anything there at all. With just a few minutes of work, Kiyo's hair was almost completely untangled. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so, in a sudden moment of weakness that even he couldn't have predicted, he did both. Clear tears streamed down his cheeks while his body shook with light laughter, a completely nonsensical combination.
At first, Kaito seemed alarmed. He pulled back frantically, unsure what to do.
"Whoa, dude, are you alright? C -can I do something?"
Kiyo shook their head, the echoes of their laughs still racking through their ribcage.
"No, no, I'm perfectly alright," he assured. "I'm just... well... not quite familiar with this. My sister was always rather rough with me, so it feels nice that you're so gentle. I... I appreciate it. Thank you, Kaito."
Kaito simply stared for a second, then surged forward and practically tackled Korekiyo into a bear hug.
"Oh, Kiyo, of course! I'm so glad I can help you out like this!"
For a moment, Kiyo wasn't sure what to do, but then he returned the embrace with just as much fervor as Kaito put into it. His chin slotted perfectly into the gap between Kaito's neck and shoulder. For a moment, the two of them just sat there, twined together.
When the pair finally, finally, broke apart, Kaito was grinning ear-to-ear.
"Alrighty, want to finish this up?" He asked, gently tapping his plastic comb against Kiyo's head. "Told you I could do it! Your hair almost looks good as new."
Kiyo nodded. "You were right. I'm glad I didn't shave it. I'm absolutely certain I would have regretted it if I did."
Kaito pursed his lips into a small frown. "Yeah, I figured you would. Like I said before, it's not the end of the world, but making a decision out of frustration like that isn't usually the best idea. My grandma always used to say to me, 'never do anything just because you're angry.' She has a lot of sayings like that, actually. Most of them don't make much sense, to be honest," Kaito laughed affectionately. Kiyo nodded.
"I see. Well, it sounds like there's some good advice in there, either way."
Without another word, Kaito got back to work, gently undoing the last of the snags and tangles in Kiyo's hair. It took just a few more minutes of work, and Kiyo's hair was once again smooth and straight as it had been before. They ran their fingers through it and didn't catch any brambles along the way. It was so perfect.
For the first time in weeks, Kiyo was able to look in the mirror without hating himself. At least this was progress. At least he could see definitively that improvement was happening, however slowly.
After that was finished, Kaito took a few strands and began to slowly braid them. That was something his sister had done, as well--pulling too tight and forcing into place and yelling and starting over--but Kaito was nothing like that. His hands were slightly more clumsy than hers had been, but far less strict, and that was a tradeoff that Kiyo would make a million times over. For the first time in his life, Kiyo was able to relax into the repetitive motion of the braiding instead of fearing it. He'd been missing out on this his whole life. They were just glad that they had it now. When Kaito had finished his one, slightly uneven braid, he scooted back to examine his work. He seemed happy with it, breaking into a grin and ever-so-slightly dramatic jazz hands.
"Ta- da! You look great!" He said excitedly. Kiyo's lips worked their way into a smile, almost against his will.
"Th- thank you, Kaito. And once again, I truly appreciate your help."
"Ah, any time," Kaito waved his hand dismissively. "Glad I could help!"
Kiyo stood up and glanced in the mirror once again. They weren't hopeful for what they would see. But to Kiyo's surprise, he found himself smiling once again. Instead of the apathy they'd felt previously, Korekiyo was surprised to find that, this time, he actually liked what he saw.
Was there anything better than that?