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“Hey,” Kristen bumped Gorgug’s side. “Can you cut my hair?”
She didn’t look up to meet his gaze, not that she was sure he was even looking at her. Gorgug had been an empty shell of nothing for a while now; it was hard to imagine him being here after a while. Kristen felt it, felt the way he wandered off without a promise to come back. She was the one to leave first, blood in her mouth and a wound in her chest, and Gorgug who knew nothing. Only the rattle of her old and dusty bones and pinky that they never promised. Why wouldn’t he wander off as well?
“Why?” Gorgug’s voice brought her back in ways she doubted hers could. Why did Gorgug go wander off all alone? They were supposed to go together always. Why did he tread the trees as if he knew where he was going? Kristen had Cassandra by her side now; she knew the forests.
And yet how could she know where Gorgug went when he died.
Kristen shrugged, although the answer was right there. Her hair was a tangled mess, hard to take care of in the midst of their adventure. It was long and unruly, and Kristen hated it. But also didn’t.
“I hate it,” she chose to say, lips chapped and catching onto each other as she spoke. She still didn’t look at him. What if he wasn’t there when she did? Gorgug couldn’t leave her all alone.
Gorgug’s hand was in her view, and he grasped hers; she hadn’t realized her hands were trembling. Kristen looked up at her friend; in the dark night she couldn’t see as much. But he was there, and that was important; he was there because Kristen asked him to be, and despite his own trials, he chose to step around the trees and come back to her.
“I’m sorry.” She sobbed and lunged at Gorgug, wrapping her arms around him. His hoodie was dusty and grimy, but Kristen didn’t care pressing her face over his chest to hopefully hear the constant thump of his heart. To make sure for the final time that he was here.
Gorgug’s arms wrapped around her, leaning down slightly to hold her close. He was trembling, slight sniffles escaping from his mouth. She doesn’t think she has seen Gorgug cry in weeks.
“I’m sorry too,” he whispered into her hair. Maybe the forest wasn’t as dense as she had imagined. She knew where to tread, even in the darkest nights. Especially if she had Gorgug alongside her.
None of this was easier; none of this made the light in Gorgug’s eyes return. But her hands weren’t shaking as much when she was sitting down just outside the Hangvan with Gorgug cutting her hair. Piece by piece, relieving her of her past.
The snips were quiet in the night—actual night as far as her crystal read. Gorgug’s work was slow, but focused, and then he was done, running his fingers through her hair. They got caught up in mall tangles that wouldn’t leave unless Kristen washed her hair in a proper bathroom, tangles that wouldn’t let go of Gorgug.
“All done,” he whispered, his hand falling away from Kristen’s hair. Kristen reached out, grabbing at her hair, eyes widening as it fell away faster than usual, as it settled around her nape and ears differently. Lighter, free.
“Thanks,” Kristen's fingers kept tangling in her hair, ripping out those little spots of dust and dirt because she couldn’t stop. It felt like weight had finally rolled off her chest and shoulders and she could take a deep breath, could fill her lungs full and hold her breath without the fear of suffocating.
“Your hair is pretty,” Gorgug’s hand joined hers, once again fingers running through the strands, carefully untangling anything he could.
“Yours is too,” Kristen twisted her head to catch a glimpse of Gorgug. He wasn’t smiling, but it seemed to have lifted some weight off his shoulders too. She hadn’t cut her hair in a long time, not even a trim, and maybe she hadn’t cut her hair since before they died. Tugging along the memories of forests and heaven gates and all the roads they couldn’t walk together. And it was finally gone, off, on the dusty grass patch they had found not too far from the town they were stopping at.
Their little spot anywhere in the world.
“Want a little trim?” Kristen reached for the scissors, but Gorgug stopped her, a frown on his face.
“I don’t trust you with scissors, no matter what apocalypse we find ourselves in,” Gorgug laughed a little at the end, a tired smile tugging at his lips.
“I trust you,” Kristen smiled back at him. She trusted him with scissors, with her life, with her ambitious. She trusted him because he was Gorgug, her dearest friend.
“And I, you,” Trust. Love. Understanding.
“I love you,” Kristen whispered into the night, carried away by the winds. Reached for Gorgug’s hand to hold it in hers, for once still because Gorgug was there. And they’d walk the forests together, no matter the sharp leaves of the calm clearings.
“I love you too, Kristen,” Gorgug leaned on her shoulder. If he cried Kristen said nothing, if he didn’t then she cried for him. Because they were always together.