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you're not the kind that needs to tell me

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Je presse le pas, ce soir j’ai quelqu’un à voir

 Quand la fille aux cheveux de soie reçoit le soir

Je me change en celui qui se laisse renverser

 

  

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“Trust me,” Krystal says, and she asks with such confidence that Veera nods (bad idea, must stop soon) and closes her eyes.

 

“Okay,” she breathes out, and tries to get comfortable on Krystal’s high kitchen barstool.

 

It’s very hard to, however, knowing how badly this has ended before. Hitto. Maybe they should move this, Veera thinks suddenly, but Krystal is already moving and talking and it’s too late.

 

“So, Veera,” Krystal says, and it’s light, teasing, just like the first time she’d been dragged into her salon, except they’re in Krystal’s apartment now and alone together (seventeen hours and counting) and she usually does this herself so she must be a little drunk on Krystal to have agreed to it. Veera feels Krystal pin back her hair, baring her face, and holds her hands still in her lap. “When are you going to let me do your nails again?”

 

That is a real question, though, and Veera feels a corner of her mouth turn up in a smile despite herself.

 

“Soon,” she promises, and wrinkles her nose as she feels her bangs suddenly grow damp from the spray-bottle. She cracks open an eye to see Krystal set it down on the counter next to them, watches her pick up a comb and scissors before she closes her eyes again.

 

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

 

There’s the sound of Krystal pulling her chair closer, the feeling of Krystal leaning in, Krystal's knees bracketing her leg as she settles close (this is not like when Krystal’s thigh slips between her own, she tries to tell herself, her body – no, not at all, not at all), and every cell in Veera’s body is hyper-aware of thoughts she should not be having with a woman holding a pair of scissors so close to her eyes.

 

“Have I ever told you I love your bangs?” Krystal asks, oblivious or perhaps just better at hiding it, and Veera’s aware that she’s dropped the conversation in her moment of temporary panic. Luckily, Krystal’s always there to pick it back up. “I wish I had the confidence to rock ‘em like you.”

 

“Really?” Veera asks, incredulous. Drops of water are combed out from her wet bangs, falling and hitting her nose, which Krystal, attentive as always, whisks away with the swipe of her thumb before they can slide down and collect between her lips.

 

“Yeah, but I don’t think it would look as good on me,” Krystal murmurs thoughtfuly, and there is the metallic snip-snip-snip of the scissors, the feather-light brush of hair falling against her face. “And I don’t get why since we both have the same face, you know?”

 

“You look pretty the way you are,” Veera offers sincerely (and it would make this doubly bizarre, to date another clone with the same haircut), and hears Krystal hum happily.

 

It seems to be over in a moment, and there’s the curl of a brush and the sweep of a hairdryer, and Krystal’s taking out her hairpins. Fingertips brush along either side of Veera's jaw, prompting her to tilt her head up, and she opens her eyes finally, finds Krystal’s eyes skimming over her, not really seeing but searching, before she takes a step back, nods in satisfaction.

 

“Perfect. Take a look.”

 

Veera slips the handtowel off her shoulders, careful not to spill the little hairs that have collected there instead of in her shirt, and leaves it on the counter, slips off the stool and heads to the bathroom.

                                                                 

She flicks on the lights, and it’s amazing what a difference Krystal’s made. Her bangs are level, straight as a die with not a hair out of place, and it gives her hair the look of something someone would pay to have done instead of something she tries her best to trim and straighten out herself.

 

“Super cute, right?” Krystal says, slipping into the tiny bathroom behind her with a smile, and Veera swallows at the hands that rest on her waist, Krystal's hips close against hers as she watches her reaction in the mirror. “Hair isn’t my favorite thing to do," she explains. "But I can do it.

 

"It looks lovely," Veera says, reaching up to touch, to run fingers through her bangs. She thinks as she's doing it that maybe she shouldn't, but too late now. Somehow her bangs feels soft and silky, and Krystal grins hopefully, presses a kiss to her cheek (doesn't recoil), and slips away.

 

"Nails next?" Krystal asks hopefully from the hallway, coaxing, and Veera follows.