You’d love your boyfriend no matter how he looked—messy or sharp, grumpy or smug—but recently, Kentarō had been looking different. His usual short-cropped, dyed blond hair with the two distinct black stripes had started to grow out, leaving his hair messier, more unkempt, and unintentionally attractive. The longer strands softened his otherwise sharp and fierce appearance, giving him a rugged, almost carefree charm that made you weak in the knees. You found yourself constantly brushing your fingers through it, marveling at how this subtle change had you even more smitten with him than before.

So, it hit you like a ton of bricks when, during your weekend date, he casually mentioned, “I’m cutting it back soon. It’s getting annoying.” He said it so offhandedly, sipping his drink without even noticing the way your heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

“You’re… what?” you managed to sputter, trying to mask your devastation.

Kentarō raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. “My hair. Gonna cut it. It’s too much of a hassle when it gets long,” he muttered, brushing his fingers through his growing strands. He didn’t seem to notice the way you were staring at him, like he’d just declared the end of the world.

“But it looks so good like this!” you blurted out, your voice a little too desperate, a little too pleading. Kentarō’s sharp eyes flicked to you in confusion.

“It’s just hair,” he said bluntly, his tone laced with indifference. “It’s easier to deal with when it’s short. What’s the big deal?”