“Ugh, yeah, I was rough with you last night. You look like shit, man.” Nathan opened his eye, the one that wasn’t swollen shut. He groaned, looking up at Ryan through the metal web of right angles. “C’mon. Bathroom. Gotta clean you up.” Nathan groaned again, sluggishly disconnecting his face from the pillow while Ryan unlocked the cage door.
“Wouldn’t have to clean me up if you didn’t go overboard, like, every time.” Nathan looked at the smears of dried blood across his thighs and stomach, halfway flaking off. From there, he visually traced the bloody trails that had flowed from his neck the previous night, with his gaze finally landing on his chest, which sported nasty bruises from heavy impacts. Nathan’s heart sunk at the sight.
“Worrrth it,” Ryan said, clearly quite pleased with himself and his work. He turned on the shower and shoved Nathan in, who immediately started to violently shiver. “Tell me when the water gets hot.” Ryan finished undressing and waited for Nathan’s go-ahead to enter, which came soon after. Ryan and Nathan both began to wash themselves. Nathan turned away from Ryan as he washed, which didn’t really prevent any groping and grabbing, but at least made him feel a little better. To distract himself, Nathan watched intently as the diluted orange-red of his blood flowed into the shower drain, swirling and rippling. Despite the traumatic violence it originated from, the look of it was comforting at this moment. Nathan sighed, as he does often; but no lungs have the capacity to sigh as hard as Nathan deserved- no, needed, to sigh.
Ryan finished up and started to dry off while Nathan started to shampoo his hair. Ryan makes a noise of realization. “Ah, yeah, that reminds me- on the topic of you looking like shit, we gotta get your hair cut, dude.” It had been about a year since Nathan’s last haircut, and maybe 6 months since his last missing poster came down. He looked back at Ryan, wearing a confused expression.
“‘Cause, uh, that shit is tangled as hell all the time?”
“I don’t really mind it.”
“Plus it’s always in your eyes.”
“Yeah, well, whatever, don’t do that.”
“‘Don’t do that’? Man, you’ve been down here for like a year, you’ve pretty much stopped resisting the stuff I do to you. Why are you fighting me on this?”
“I don’t know! I just don’t want it! It’s not like it matters, the beating me up gets you off but it’s not like you have a haircut fetish. Don’t you like yanking on my hair anyway? You’re always doing it.”
Ryan scoffs. “What, have you finally come around then? Helping me rape you better… Bet you fuckin’ like it or something. You got Stockholm?”
“You should be so lucky.”
“Pff, motherfucker is funny… That always impresses me. You’re damn funny, even here, even about this sort of stuff.”
“I can’t be anything else.” He looks at the shower floor.
“Mhm. Hey, anyway- get out of there already, bro. Fuckin’ using up all my hot water.”
Nathan exits the shower awaiting the arrival of the ritu-SNAP… There it is. Nathan doesn’t flinch, he’s used to it now. Every shower, the same towel flicking him in the same place, and that same singular beat of shit-eating laughter; “Ha!” Nathan just blinks slowly, exhaustedly, at the captor. “Why are you hugging yourself like that?” Ryan refers to Nathan’s hands holding onto his upper arms. “Don’t tell me you’re cold after spending half an hour in the hot water.” Nathan shrugs. “Whatever man. Dry off, I’ll get the hair stuff.” Nathan resigns.
Nathan sits alone in the bathroom waiting for Ryan. He holds a lock of his hair in his hands, out in front of his face. He twirls it between his fingers, fidgeting, wrapping it around, feeling its texture, looking at its shine. It’s soft and comforting. His hair has always been naturally soft, even here with the stress and lack of proper care. It’s the part of his body he’s the most proud of. He doesn’t want to lose it.
Ryan comes back. Nathan’s gaze does not visit him until he hears the sound of items being put down. He turns to look; there’s a small handheld broom, a dustpan, and- Nathan’s stomach almost explodes. “Wait, wait, you’re gonna buzz it off? All of it?”
“Come on, man, I’m not going to the trouble of giving you an actual proper haircut, I’m just gonna reer, reer, reer, ya know?” He mimics the sound of the electric shaver in his hand, waving it as if along the curves of a head.
“Can’t you just not?” Nathan asks desperately.
“Yeah, I can just not. Because I can do whatever I want with you.” Nathan goes silent. Slowly, with eyes still turned to Ryan for a few seconds as if he may change his mind, Nathan puts his head down and faces the floor, submitting. He flinches as the buzzing begins and stares with dull eyes at the ground directly under his head. Long strands of hair start to fall into his peripheral vision. Nathan wants to cry, and in his eyes there’s a feeling of pressure that might suggest that tears were in fact about to burst forth- but not for a second can Nathan fool himself into believing he could claim such an emotional release- because with the pressure sensation comes another, a feeling of profound dryness, as if he were crawling in the desert with the sun beating down on him. No moisture could exist here.
“Done. That wasn’t so bad, huh? Whiny ass.” Nathan doesn’t move his eyes. If he doesn’t look directly at the hair, it will be as if it didn’t happen. As if he still has it. “Helloooo? Talking to you.” He can feel the weight change, though. His head is lighter, and his scalp is exposed to the air. Maybe, though, if he doesn’t touch it, it won’t feel- “DUUUUUDE. Cheer the fuck up. It’s hair. Let’s get some food in you, come upstairs. I’ll make you an omelette.”
