Part of me wanted to be open about this so that she could know more about me, yet that feeling was currently at odds with my fear of her being totally put off by it. It was a pretty close race, but the former just barely managed to eke out a win in this case.
“Um, okay…” I began. “So I’d really appreciate it if you could promise not to overreact or be weirded out by this or anything.”
“Wh-what are you getting all serious for?” asked Akira, sitting upright. “Is it really that big of a deal?”
My heart was racing way faster than it should have been. My mouth had gone dry, and my hands were trembling. I felt even more nervous about sharing this than I had when I suggested we just let time stay frozen. But she had me cornered now, so I had no choice but to tell her. I braced myself for the worst.
“So the truth is, um… I only let my mom cut my hair,” I confessed.
“Oh yeah…?” said Akira—and then she went silent for a while. “…Wait, that’s it?”
“Th-that’s it, yeah.”
“Man, what the hell did you make such a big deal about that for?” She let her rigid posture deflate as if this were the biggest anticlimax in the world. “Who even cares if your mom cuts your hair? Plus, it’s economical, right? Doesn’t cost any money.”
I was a little bewildered. I hadn’t expected this reaction at all. “Yeah, but I mean, I’m in high school. No one still lets their mom cut their hair at our age… Unless you’re a total loser, that is.”
“You think? I mean, yeah, it might not be the norm, but I really don’t see what the big deal is. Heck, most of the guys on my school’s baseball team still let their parents shave their heads too.”
“Okay, but I feel like that’s a little different.”
“How so?”
“I’m…not really sure how to explain it. But it just is.”
As I dug in my heels but refused to offer any rationale, Akira scrunched up her face like she was fed up with me being so difficult.
“I’m telling you, it’s really nothing to be ashamed of,” she said. “Way better than having a horrible relationship with your folks, that’s for sure.”
I wouldn’t say I had a particularly great relationship with my parents either… But regardless, I wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Neither agreement nor disagreement felt quite right. But I was still glad that I told her—I really was. And glad that she had been the one I took this journey with. I was lucky to have found someone who wouldn’t give a damn who cut my hair, much less judge me for it.
“…So it’s all right when it’s your mom, huh…?” Akira mumbled, and then her eyes lit up with hope. “You think…maybe I could touch your hair too, then?”
“What, like…right now?”
“I mean, yeah! No better time than the present, right?” Akira said excitedly.
I had to admit, I felt like she was putting me in a bit of an awkward position here. My condition didn’t pick and choose who could and couldn’t touch me. It was still an extremely unpleasant experience when my mom cut my hair, but it was something I knew I just had to put up with every once in a while. It wasn’t as if I didn’t mind it at all.
But if it were Akira, maybe…
On the off chance that I felt little to no resistance to her touching my hair, it might even be able to serve as the impetus I needed to slowly start getting over my condition with the help of someone I felt comfortable with.
I swallowed hard and nodded. “…All right, yeah. You can give it a shot.”
“Sweet. Guess I’ll just go for it, then?”
Akira leaned forward, and I heard the bedsprings creak beneath us as my body stiffened up like a statue.
“Okay, uhhh… Lemme see here…” said Akira, apparently unable to decide where or how to go about touching my hair without it being too uncomfortable for me.
Figuring this might not be the optimal position for her to avoid touching my skin, I leaned my head forward as if bowing to greet her, and my bangs drooped down away from my forehead. Akira slowly reached out a hand—and before she even touched me, my brow grew extremely hot. It was only a few seconds of nervous anticipation, yet it felt like minutes. Eventually, her fingertips came close enough to touch my hair…and she gently stroked my bangs.
O-oh man… This is making my arms feel super itchy already! It was like she was quite literally fingering the line between tickly and viscerally uncomfortable for me. I felt like I was on pins and needles, just praying it would be over soon.
“Dang, your hair is silkier than mine, even,” said Akira. “Kinda pisses me off a little.”
She started playing with my bangs a bit more boldly now—matting them together, twisting them around her finger, tugging on them a bit. And then, slowly, she started touching more than just my bangs, and I could feel my tactile receptors tingling like never before as I clung to my very last nerve and tried to endure it.
Then, all of a sudden, Akira’s fingers touched my scalp.
On reflex, I jerked back and slapped her hand away.
The sharp thwack echoed through the hotel room.
Akira’s eyes shot wide open in shock, and mine did too.
She left her hand hanging raised in midair where the impact had left it.
We both went completely silent. She stared at me, and I stared back at her.
For once, it felt like time had frozen us in place along with the rest of the world.
There was a good few-second delay before I finally came back to my senses.
“Oh god! I’m so sorry!” I shouted, apologizing emphatically enough that I might as well have been on my hands and knees. “I-It’s not your fault! It was just a reflex, I swear!”
“No, that was definitely my bad. Guess I got a little too carried away. Sorry about that…”