Spring in Paris, year 2002

As I sat on the waiting bench inside the empty salon... I wondered why Silvan grows his hair long.

It's always been at the back of my mind.

I witnessed him trim it today. Turns out that he doesn't let anyone handle his hair for him.

While watching him sweep the small pieces of his cut hair, I yearned to stoop down and pick it up with my own two hands to feel it in my fingers.

Already a year had passed and I still haven't had the chance to touch his hair.

Afraid that I might ruin it with my touch...

"Silvan, do you think my hair could grow long and beautiful like yours?" I asked.

I've always wanted to have beautiful long hair. I've told him about it countless times. And each time he says the same thing.

Silvan glanced at me in amusement.

"Of course it could. Yes."

"When I get my own place away from my parents I'll start growing it." I said, excitedly thinking about University.

He set the broom aside and sat beside me on the bench at the waiting area.

"I never asked you before, but I thought you loved having short hair. That was what made you stand out from the rest."

I looked down at my hands, twiddling my thumbs. "I'm okay with it. It's limited, though. But my parents tell me to keep it short because I get sick if I kept it long."

"I prefer mine to be short, personally."

Upon hearing him, my eyes grew wide. "What? Why do you keep your hair long, then?"

Silvan glanced at the floor, a few strands falling out of place as he bowed his head a bit.

"It's my mother's keepsake... I've never tried cutting my hair short after her death. I feel like if I cut it off abruptly, I'll lose my connection with her."

"You do know it'll grow back right?"

He shook his head. "...it won't be the same. I'm not ready for it yet. I'm not ready to forget her familiar feeling."

I couldn't understand. I couldn't relate at all. What feeling is he talking about?

'Is it like this?' I thought, scooting closer to give him a hug.

Stroking his hair gently, it felt like caressing a soft cloud.

I couldn't resist.

Leaning my head on his shoulder, his hair smelled like chamomile. But Silvan tensed at what I was doing and I snapped back to my senses.

Pulling away, my breath caught in my throat as I realized my shamelessness. "I apologize."

Looking into his clear blue eyes, Silvan was just as shocked like I was.

He opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but paused in hesistation.

When I felt the warmth of his hand upon my waist a shock went through me as if I'm struck by lighting.

He flinched and looked away, covering his face with his hands. "It's okay. I know you've wanted to hold my hair for a long time now."

When I stood up away from him, Silvan ducked his head and ran his hands through his hair in exasperation.

I wanted to, but it was too... awkward.

He stood up, my head at par to his shoulders. "If you feel like it, you can still hold it if you want to."

"Really..?"

"Yes."

I couldn't help grinning at him like a child. "Okay. Don't worry, I'll be gentle with it."

Taking a step closer to him, I held my gaze at the tips of my fingers about to touch his glorious golden strands when Silvan suddenly wrapped his arms around me.

"Is it all right if I embrace you?" He asked.

I froze. Pondering about his words earlier, I nodded.

"Of course. About your mother...I'm sorry. Is she the reason why you worked part-time here even when you love baking?"

He breathed deeply.

"Yes. I wanted to take care of her memory."

As soon as he said it his arms locked tighter around me; leaning his chin on my shoulder.

Without paying any heed to the world outside, I picked up the courage to hug him tight in return.

"Thank you." Silvan whispered.

Though he only thanked me, those two words made my eyes well up in tears. I knew that he was thankful about a lot of things.

As I ran my fingers through his silky strands, deep inside... I grew aware of the fact that I'll never have another chance to do it again.

-end of story-