The room smelt of weed and hair products, the windows cracked open slightly to try and air your dorm out.

You sat uncomfortably in the bowl of your bathroom sink, pieces of your hair wrapped in tinfoil while you brushed on more bleach into certain areas.

Dying your hair was lowkey a pain in the ass, but letting it grow out was not an option. You liked how the streaks of blonde looked in your hair—it was your thing, ya know?

Suguru sat in the empty tub next to the sink, legs hanging over the edge as he nursed the blunt in between his fingers. His hair was down, slightly draped over his face.

This was a sort of tradition the two of you had- you’d dye your hair once every couple months, and he’d hang out with you and get high—offering to help you once in a while if you looked like you were struggling.

He took this as an opportunity to escape from Satoru’s constant yapping, as you and Suguru had been friends since childhood, and he didn’t mind telling you to just be quiet and let him relax.

As the brush ran over another section of your hair, you held your hand out as he ripped off another piece of tinfoil and handed it to you, sucking on the blunt at the same time.

“You gonna cut it too..?” He mused, exhaling the smoke from his lungs and watching as it was wafted out of the open bathroom window.