#this doesnt flow that much srry m my head hurtzzzz i took a painkiller but nope<3 doesntwork

[voidcat]

characters: nakahara chuuya, you

a/n: idk what this is... im tired, its 1am and i want a haircut... i'd most likely let chuuya give me a haircut. i love that man ig (i'll probs make this an extra chapter to my longfic,, lol)

"Are you really sure you want me to do this?" you hear Chuuya's worried voice coming from behind you and find yourself rolling your eyes.

Stopping yourself at the last moment from nodding, you sigh. "Chuuya, we've been over this already. Just stop asking and get to work."

Footsteps walking away for a brief moment, only to come back after a clanking noise, he runs a hand through your hair rather hesitantly.

"Alright, message taken." he says and you close your eyes in content.

Except, Chuuya isn't exactly done yet. "Why not ask that boyfriend of yours to cut your hair though?"

Hoping his hold on your hair isn't as thight, you whip your head to face him. "Don't call him that." The smirk on his face tells this time it was just a bait. You can't help but pout.

He only snickers at your furrowed expression. "Sure," he drags out the 'u', "whatever you say."

"Would you entrust your hair which is attached to your head, to a Dazai with scissors?" you say the next words much slower and with emphasis as you turn back to your initial position.

Hands stop stroking your hair and you can tell he's contemplating for a moment.

"Fair enough. I see your point." And with that, you can hear the snapping sounds.

A moment passes with nothing but silence, except for the occasional sounds of scissors snapping and hair falling off.

It's almost comforting, to share a silence with Chuuya.

And when you think about it, of all the times you spent together, be it alone or not, when was it ever with a mutual understanding towards each other, recognizing the silence within one another and just existing?

Far more less than you'd like, you're sure about it.

"'Kay so I know you're sick of me bringing this up, but-" his voice reaches your ears again, you're not sure how close he is standing.

"Why not to somewhere else or, i dont know, ask the others for this?" there is a hint of deffidence in his voice. Perhaps he isn't as much a fan of this as you are. Or maybe he just doesn't know what you expect or how you'll react.

And you can't exactly blame him for that.

"It's just hair, Chuuya. You'll cut it short." You make a snipping gesture with your fingers as you talk. "It's not like I want a specific style anyways." you finish and hear him mumble an "okay"

"Also, I figured it was time we hung out outside our social circles and overlapping work assignments." Chuuya doesn't reply with anything to that statement.

Yet you can tell from his movements and breathing that he has calmed down a little. Maybe if you had a view of him, you could spot shoulders that have relaxed. And if you listen carefully, you can pick up on a low humming coming from his lips. No matter what song it is, you doubt it'll ever surpass his humming.

"Y'know," he begins and you can hear the ease in his voice. "It's almost weird,"

"Weird how?" you don't let him finish.

His hands stopped moving long ago, the scissors probably cast aside. "Seeing you like this." you're not sure where his hands are but you wouldn't mind it if he placed them on your shoulders.

"You mean the hair?" The temptation to turn and watch for his reactions as you speak is strong, very so, yet you resist. Whatever intimacy that lingers in the air, you don't want to disturb it, or him.

"I guess." you can hear him shrug almost. "But it suits you like that too." His hands go up in your hair, almost mindlessly and caress slightly as he speaks.

"Why, thank you!" You smile and lean back, closing your eyes as Chuuya keeps running his hand through your hair.

"It's just-" Chuuya utters and you internally groan.

So much for a shared moment of tranquility.

you cross your arms. "It's just what?"

you didn't realize you spoke with a tone. You wince at it but you doubt you can let out a 'sorry' now.

"I... might've cut your hair a bit too short." he replies a bit timidly, something you'd never expect to hear from him. And he actually sounds apologetic too. You just want to laugh at this.

And you do.

This only confuses the ginger further.

"It's fine." you drag the 'i' and tilt your head as you turn to face him.

Placing your hands on the back of the chair, you rest your chin and lean toward him. "I told you that already, didn't I? I just want a messy, short haircut. It doesn't have to be perfect, or stylish, or whatever it is you assume I want."

And as you lean, he takes a step back. It's always amusing how he flees so sudden whenever you display close proximity to him.

"And besides," you crane your neck a little, "it was quite nice to feel your fingers in my hair." you say in a whisper and smirk, as he struggles to say anything back, face growing the lovely shade of pink you've come to adore on his cheeks.