It was months before I even saw my lover's hair down. Normally, he would vanish into the bathroom and not come out until it was braided, but one night he apparently decided otherwise.
He reversed a chair and sat down with a comb while I was still gaping at the sight of those waves of chestnut. Facing away from me, he started to yank the comb through that tangled-yet-beautiful mass.
"Can I help you with that?" I offered, anxious to run my hands over that hair. Duo was lovely with his hair braided, but down... breathtaking.
He paused in his combing. "Nah. Thanks, though. I know my pain tolerance better'n you. No offense."
"'Pain tolerance?!'"
"Yep," he agreed. "I've been told I have a sensitive scalp, so it hurts like Hell to brush this stuff." He gestured deprecatingly at his flowing hair.
"Why do you keep it, then?" I was vaguely horrified at him. That hair of his was long, thick, and wavy... a recipe for tangles.
He pulled a coil of hair over his shoulder, unconsciously turning to give me a glimpse of his profile as he tugged through a tangle with the comb. He flinched marginally with each jerk, face contorting. "For the - memories," he said quietly. "Penance, kinda. I told you about the Maxwell Church Massacre before, though."
After a few minutes, I couldn't stand it anymore and got up. "Duo: let me help you..." He eyed me distrustfully, keeping a death-grip on the comb.
"It won't hurt," I promised, not sure if I was going to keep that promise. "Sit on the floor... yes, like that."
He sat at my feet as I sat in the chair, holding the comb. As my hair wasn't that short itself, I'd learned a few tricks to brushing unruly hair.
Taking a firm grasp on the comb, I held a coil of badly tangled hair in a death grip. Bracing myself, as Duo did the same, I pulled the comb through the worst of the snarls.
Duo twisted around at the peculiar sound of ripping hair. "Wha - ?" he asked. "Wait... that doesn't... That doesn't hurt. What are you doing?"
"Brushing your hair the way it SHOULD be brushed."
He relaxed against my shins, accepting my answer. And I finally got to get my hands on his hair...
The End