It wasn't as if she hated long hair. It was beautiful, she knew. But everyday, it was rinse thoroughly, lather well, rinse, dry, comb, repeat. She was sick of it. She was sick of having the type of hairstyle he liked to see. She was sick of keeping it for his sake. She was sick of trying so hard for a love that would never be.
The first time she cut it short, to her shoulders, he lamented. "Your hair, it was so long 'n sexy, why'd you cut it?" he asked her. She only shrugged, smiled and told him, "It was troublesome to maintain.", and she watched him scratch his head and felt him run his fingers through her cut hair. "Your beautiful brown hair…" he sighs.
The second time she cut it, to her neck, he complained. "It was already short, why'd you cut it again?!" he asked. She smiled once again, and told him, "It's getting hotter these days.", and she watched him slide his hands down his regretful face that gave her a twinge of guilt running down her back. "Ugh, talk about a waste…" he whimpers.
The third time she cut it, to her cheeks, he became agitated. "How could you even do such a stupid thing?!" he moaned, running his hands through his own messy brown hair. There was a pasted smile, as if she expected this, and she told him, "I just felt like it.", and she watched him grimace, clearly unsatisfied. "That's horseshit." he snaps. Without skipping a beat, she told him, "I'm sick of keeping a hairstyle you like but don't like me for." her hands trembled as she said it, her face threatened to disorient and her eyes watered but not quite yet tearing up as if she was refusing herself to cry, and he stared at her.
"I'm doing this because I want to stop loving you" she murmured. she watched him twirl his own hair with his fingers, and she watched him lower his head and stare at the ground with a strange look on his face. "Maybe," she began as she picked up a pair of scissors, and with every word she said, she cut off a part of her hair, until it was above her ears. "Just maybe, if I cut my hair away, I can cut away my feelings for you too."
There was a stiff silence in the air. He wouldn't look at her, and she didn't want to look at him either. "Is that so…?" he mumbles, and they both knew at that moment, it would never work out, nothing would ever be the same again.
—
When summer came, she couldn't bear the heat, donned similar clothes to that certain red-eyed boy instead of her own trademark outfit, and left for that certain snow-capped mountain. As he would never come up here again to the place of his best friend's death, and she would never plan to leave either, she knew that she would never meet him again. It one last futile attempt to stop loving him.
Sometimes, she overlooks the blizzard on the edge of the cliff, waiting for the snow to whisk her away just like how it did to her predecessor. She wanted to disappear just like him, to follow wherever he had gone, as terrible as his fate was, and one day, it did, when a girl with brown pigtails appeared and defeated her in battle.
She meant to walk up to the girl to congratulate her, but without paying attention she slipped, and as she felt herself falling, she thought, "He would like her hair, he always did like pigtails."
/
a/n: this is a play on that fantheory where red at the end of hgss is actually blue in disguise because he died previously already