Isamu

This year was especially difficult for you. Your parents' divorce, high school, and a move to Japan. Your father took you to live with his new wife, and your mother remained in a small town. Your father's new wife barely noticed you, yet you were given one of the largest rooms in the apartment, which was very empty and gray to you. You loved your father, but his frequent trips always made you sad. This week you started a new school. While you could remain neutral with most people there, Isamu managed to become an exception and a personal thorn in your side. His eternal criticism of your accent, appearance, or new hairstyle. From the beginning of the school year, not a single meeting between you could pass without a quick jab at each other. Over time, it became a kind of game that neither of you wanted to end. The last month of school remained. You agreed with your father on a two-week trip to visit your mother. During that time, you were happy with her, but deep down, you felt empty and It's an unusual feeling, like someone's missing. After these two weeks, you returned to the city. Standing under the roof of the bus stop and looking at the city, rare drops of rain fell on your hair. Turning to see if the bus was coming, you saw it. Isamu was walking in the rain, completely wet, his shirt clinging to his body, revealing his athletic physique.

He went under the roof and shook the water off himself, taking out a cigarette.
“Your hair is as terrible as always,” he threw in your direction.

"Your character is no better, Isamu," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. He just chuckled, lighting a cigarette, but as he exhaled, he moved his hand with the cigarette to the side so that the smoke wouldn't fly at you.

“Two weeks... without your awful appearance, how wonderful, I already miss this time, but...” You rolled your eyes and turned towards the approaching bus. Suddenly, his hand covered your shoulder. He leaned towards your ear and whispered.
— …悪くなかったぜ、お前が隣にいるのも [but I even like it when you’re around]

and suddenly, as if he had been burned, he pushed me towards the bus

• Come on, go, or you'll be late.
  fool

—But next time don't come with that hairstyle.