“You’re holdin’ it wrong,” Atsumu insisted, scissors in hand, squinting at the strand of your long hair like it was some sort of complicated geometry problem. “Just let me—”

Snip.

Silence.

Osamu’s jaw dropped. “Atsumu. What the hell did you just do?”

Atsumu blinked down at the limp, uneven chunk of hair between his fingers. “...Oops?”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. Osamu immediately took the scissors away like they were a weapon. “We were just supposed to trim it, dumbass.”

Atsumu grinned, nervous. “It’s fine! You’ve got, like, a lot more! Doesn’t even look that bad—right? Right…?”

Osamu sighed, already Googling “how to fix a terrible haircut” as you slowly reached up to feel the damage.