The sun was brutal that day. Heat shimmered off the pavement like ripples on water, blurring everything into white and gold.
Haruki and I sat outside the convenience store, drinks in hand, sweat sliding down our necks. My soda had already lost its chill. I pushed my bangs out of my eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, strands sticking to my skin.
"You ever think about cutting that?" Haruki asked suddenly, his straw clicking against the ice. "You look like you're hiding from the FBI."
I snorted under my breath. "Kept me warm in winter."
"Winter's dead, bro. Right now it looks like it's trying to suffocate you."
I stared into my cup, watching the last ice cube spin. He wasn't wrong. My hair had become more than just hair—it was a shield. Something to hide behind. Something that made it easier to fade into the background.
But lately… disappearing didn't feel the same. Not after apologizing to Rina. Not after she actually looked at me without that wall of disgust I'd expected. The fog I used to live in didn't feel safe anymore. Just… lonely.
Haruki nudged me with his elbow. "Summer festival's coming up, you know."
"…So?"
"So maybe you try showing up as someone who doesn't look like they lost a fight with a mop." He grinned, that easy, confident grin of his. "You'd be surprised who notices when you stop hiding."
My chest thumped at his words. He didn't say who—but he didn't have to. I already knew.
"I used to tie it up, you know," I said quietly. "Middle school. Didn't look half bad."
"Then maybe it's time to stop tying yourself down and actually let people see you."
His tone was light, but his words sank deeper than I wanted to admit. I stood up before I could overthink it.
"Wait—where are you going?" he blinked.
"To see what I look like without the fog."
---
The walk there wasn't long, but it felt heavier than it should've. My feet dragged, my mind second-guessed every step. What if it looked bad? What if it didn't change anything? What if people just laughed?
Haruki walked beside me, hands in his pockets, humming like it was just another summer afternoon. Then he glanced over and smirked. "You're hesitating."
"I'm thinking."
"Same thing, for you." He stretched his arms behind his head. "Unless you want me to cut it instead? I'll even use the kitchen scissors for that rustic, uneven vibe."
I gave him a look. "Yeah, no thanks. I'd like to survive this transformation."
"Suit yourself. Just don't chicken out when we get there."
"Who said I would?"
"Your face."
I groaned, but I didn't stop walking.
---
The hum of clippers. The faint lo-fi beat through the speakers. The smell of shampoo and disinfectant.
I sat stiff in the chair, fingers gripping my knees. The barber ran a comb through my hair and whistled. "You ever cut this before?"
"Not since middle school," I muttered.
From the bench, Haruki stretched, legs swinging. "He's never trusted me with scissors. Smart guy."
The barber chuckled. "Wolf cut would suit you. Clean sides, messy top. Wild, but sharp."
I hesitated for a second, then nodded.
The scissors went snip. Clumps of hair slid down, soft as feathers. Each strand on the floor felt like a piece of the old me dying quietly. I didn't think. I just let it fall.
When the clippers finally stopped, the barber dusted my shoulders and spun me around.
I stared.
Layers framed my face—sharp but natural. My bangs fell just enough to shadow my eyes. The back swept slightly outward—untamed, almost defiant.
I didn't look like the Yuuto who kept his head down in hallways. I didn't look like the Yuuto who hid in silence.
For the first time in a long time… I actually looked awake.
---
The heat hadn't changed, but something in me had. The air on my neck was strange—cool, free.
"Holy—dude." Haruki froze mid-step, staring.
"What?" I asked.
He blinked, then burst out laughing. "No offense, but you went from depressed poet to secret final boss in one cut. I'm scared to walk next to you now."
I brushed a hand through my hair, trying not to smile. "You're exaggerating."
Then it happened.
A group of girls chatting. One of them slowed, eyes locking onto me.
"Wait," she whispered to her friend, "Look he looks so cool"
The others turned, curiosity sparking.
"Who is that?" one asked.
"No idea," another giggled. "But he looks way too cool to be single…"
They moved on, still glancing back.
I didn't react. Didn't smile. Didn't meet their eyes.
That somehow made their giggles sharper.
Beside me, Haruki whistled. "Damn, bro. You didn't even try. That's what makes it unfair."
I stayed quiet, but inside, my chest throbbed—not from their looks, but from a single thought that flashed in my head:
What if Rina saw me like this?
The tiny pause in her steps. The unreadable look in her eyes.
Maybe surprise.
Maybe something more.
Haruki caught up, clapping a hand on my shoulder. His grin was wide, but his voice dropped softer.
"She really won the big prize, huh?"
I blinked. "…Who?"
He smirked knowingly. "Come on, man. You know."
I didn't answer. I didn't need to.
---
We ended up at the same café later, air conditioning blasting cold salvation. Haruki leaned back, sipping his drink like he owned the place.
"So," he said casually, "you planning on doing anything for the summer festival?"
I shrugged. "I mean… going, I guess."
He squinted. "That's not an answer. I meant doing. Like helping out. I'm thinking of running a takoyaki stand this year."
I looked at him. "You can cook?"
"Of course." He leaned back, voice casual but proud. "Four siblings, remember? You learn fast when you're the one keeping everyone fed."
I stared at him for a second, feeling something tighten in my chest.
Haruki always knew what to do.
He was younger than me, but he just… moved through life like he had a map.
Meanwhile, I was still stuck trying to find a compass.
And before I could stop it, that old feeling crept back in.
Someone younger than me is better at life.
I'm pathetic.
Haruki noticed. Of course he did.
He sighed, looking frustrated. "Let me guess," he said flatly. "You think you can't do it."
I blinked. "What—"
"You know, man," he cut in, running a hand through his hair, "if you were friends with someone else, they would've ditched you a long time ago."
That one stung a bit, but… he wasn't wrong.
I forced a laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll pay you later for all the advice, wise man."
He smirked. "That'd be a first. But seriously, you overthink too much. Just try it—the stand. Or, I don't know, anything that puts you out there."
He paused, eyes softening. "No one's born knowing what they're good at."
Something about that silence after his words made it hit harder than usual.
I looked away. "…You really don't stop, huh?"
"That's why you keep me around," he said, grinning. Then his expression shifted again, almost teasing. "Besides, the festival's in two weeks. And Tachibana's probably showing up in a yukata."
My face heated immediately. "Wh–why would you even bring that up?"
He laughed. "Because I know exactly what kind of face you just made."
I rolled my eyes, but… the image was already there.
Tachibana, under the summer lights. The soft blue of her yukata. The way her hair would frame her face when she turned toward me—maybe surprised, maybe smiling.
If she sees me now… maybe she'll notice that I'm trying.
When I looked up again, Haruki was smirking. "You're totally imagining it, huh?"
I groaned. "Shut up."
He laughed louder, leaning back with his drink. "Man, this festival's gonna be interesting."