His hair looks really soft. He probably layers it. Does he use gel? Is that how his hair stays flat? No, it looks too...floppy for that. Not that it doesn't look good, what the hell. It looks like woven gold or something. ...Has his hair grown longer lately?

Yeah, he just got a trim two weeks ago, and now it's touching the back of his collar again.

How fast does his hair grow anyway? It's only been two weeks.

Oh, he looked up. Not like the teacher is saying anything note taking worthy. Yeah, his hair definitely grew.

...What if i just ran my hand, right up from the back of his head to the top. Would he scream? Probably. But what if - what if he leaned back? What if he turns around and smiles and -

"Yukihira?"

"Hmm?" Yukihira hums distractedly, seemingly unaware that the object of his attention is staring straight at him with a curious look, but his incessantly tapping foot gives his nervousness away.

"Lesson's over." Takumi says, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, i'm not so stingy that i wouldn't even spare you a single photo of me. It'll last you longer that way, you know. So will the back of my head - your stares can be really intense."

"I was just thinking about how your hair seems to have gotten longer." Yukihira says, voice a little distant.

And how much i want to run my hands through it, tug it, listen to you sigh and hum and laugh while i find out just how soft your hair really is, if it smells like lemons or sweet peas or nothing but your scent alone.

Takumi snorts, turning back to the table to gather his books.

"I don't think you have a right to talk about the length of my hair, rapunzel."

Cracking a smile, Yukihira throws his head to one side. Red locks easily brush against his shoulder, fall across his eyes.

"Why don't you help me cut it?"

Twisting his torso to look back at Yukihira, a tender smile rarely seen graces Takumi's lips.

Cheeks dyed pink, smile borderline shy; are these signals you're sending me Aldini, or am I just the most desperate, delusional man ever?

"I'd rather suggest you go to a professional hairdresser. I wouldn't want to ruin your lovely hair after all."

Yukihira's heart thuds rapidly, his back straightens.

"Did you just say my hair was lovely?"

Upon hearing his own words echoed, Takumi's face bursts into red, eyes snapping wide open - and Yukihira finds himself aching with the wish that he'd taken up art instead so he'd have the names of all the colours at his disposal to pinpoint this exact colour Takumi looks so absolutely lovely in.

"I- I-I'm-uh-uhm. My next class. I'm going to be late, it's the next building, b-bye!"

Unable to tear his eyes away, Yukihira watches Takumi rush out the lecture theatre, nearly tripping over his own feet at least twice.

Falling back into his seat, giddy joy coursing through his system, stirring the beginnings of a silly smile etching itself across his face, Yukihira thinks, hopes, that maybe it isn't all a delusion after all.