There are several stages to getting a haircut. The first universal stage is realizing that it isn't good, and unfortunately, Ishaan was part of the universe. 

He grumbled and fiddled with his bangs that were practically non-existent and perhaps several metres away from his eyes. Never again would he have the issue of poking his eyes, but eyes were poking at him from afar, and that was a lot worse. Suddenly, Ishaan's new haircut was the next big thing. 

The stage of acceptance had yet to come, and Ishaan sat miserably at his desk. Despite his efforts at hiding it, the bangs stood out as much as Yu-jun's blue highlights did. He was half-tempted to just skip the class, maybe an entire month to let the hair grow out. One month, and I'll have a centimetre more of hair, he thought. Of course, after that month, he may as well just drop out of high school. 

More students began filling up the class, thus more eyewitnesses to the self-made spectacle Ishaan had made of himself. He put his head down even more, an arm over his haircut, and he peered at his classmates filing in, with perfectly normal hair, at perfectly normal lengths. Suddenly, everyone in the class seemed to look even more radiant than he did, and at this thought Ishaan felt a pang in his heart. 

Ishaan wasn't sure how he even made it to the end of his class. The walk down the halls, the projects he worked on with others, eating at the cafeteria, and suddenly the humiliating day was over. 

"Remember, we'll be discussing more on how this screenplay uses drama techniques and catharsis on the audience, so remember to read the pages," and then English class was over. A wave of catharsis washed over Ishaan himself as he watched his classmates leave the class and the loud bell buzzed through the school. He himself slowly lifted his head up, basking in the afternoon sunlight, and begun packing his belongings back home as a group of boys walked into the class.

A sting ran across Ishaan's cheek, a familiar one. He turned abruptly around, noticing the snickering from the culprit. A papercut. An intentional one. At last, Ishaan's luck had ran out, and now he was getting bullied for his haircut. 

"Sorry bro," said a strange boy with a nice-looking perm. Anything at the moment looked nicer than Ishaan.

What a world we live in, he thought, rubbing the injury. Thankfully, it hadn't cut his eye, but it was quite close to it. The group of boys snickered a little louder. Then, steps from behind Ishaan came closer, ending with a large bang created from Ishaan's head hitting his desk, forcefully of course. 

"Hey man, I said sorry, you aren't gonna say anything back?" 

The way kids have been taught to deal with bullies is to just ignore it, or tell a trusted adult. Alas, there was no adult and certainly no one who was even on Ishaan's side, and so he went with the former option. He lifted his head back up, rubbed the injury, and continued packing his belongings. Of course, the issue was not about being able to fight back, but just the aftermath, and the hassle, and the whole situation in general.

The bullies decided to give him a few tough whacks on the back, told Ishaan to "thug it out," whatever that meant, and left cackling with remarks of "barcode hair" and "sixhead". Ishaan slumped back into his seat. As much as he had expected it, he just needed a break. Just a short break. He put his head, potentially bruised, back on the desk and sighed. The cool air from the window breathed onto him. 

Then a yell from the hallway awoke him with a shudder. And through the window, was the group of boys from before, on the floor. And staring back at Ishaan, was Yu-jun Lee. 

Oh my goodness, Ishaan thought. The first thing he did was cover his forehead. Absolutely not. Not in front of Yu-jun Lee.  Yu-jun Lee, popsicles in hand, walked into the now-empty classroom, where Ishaan once again, was alone with a school celebrity, essentially.

"You okay? Wait, of course not. Nevermind. Want me to take you to get some ice for that?"

The redness of Ishaan's potentially bruised forehead spread to his cheeks. "Well, no, preferably not the nurse's or the office. I'll be okay."

"Uh, no you won't. Just go down. You're not okay man."

Ishaan did not know how to explain his circumstance. There was a particular reason why he could not go to the nurse's and especially not the administrative office. The last thing Ishaan wanted was for that reason to be a crack in his relationship with Yu-jun. 

He tried explaining it, even though there was no way Yu-jun would understand. "Uh, so, the thing is-"

"Nah it's okay, you don't have to." Ishaan sat back down, and Yu-jun grabbed a chair from the desk in front and sat down too, looking down the window. More cool air flowed into the sun-kissed room and the two enjoyed a moment of silence. 

Ishaan put his head on his desk. Suddenly a cold feeling touched his forehead, and he looked up to see Yu-jun putting a popsicle, unwrapped, onto the injury. "It's for your bruise. You said you don't want to go treat it downstairs, but you have to treat it somehow. Sorry, I probably should have put a cloth or something, that's what they usually do." 

Ishaan held the popsicle up, savouring the therapeutic cold as Yu-jun dug into his bag. "Here," he pulled out a small box with bandaids. He carefully unwrapped one. 

"Uh, I'm going to touch your face for a sec. Is that okay?"

Ishaan never really said anything, but he nodded ever so slightly, and Yu-jun stuck it onto the cut. It was really awkward. Ishaan wasn't sure where to look, the black and blue hair slowly cascading down the shoulder as he leaned forward, or the bright glow Yu-jun seemed to have as he was illuminated by the afternoon's sun. His cheek felt even more sting, but perhaps that was a better sting.

That's odd, Ishaan thought. I must be seeing things. There was simply no way he was seeing a halo around him at all. But there it was, and suddenly everything about Ishaan's miserable hair day seemed to dim in comparison. 

The halo effect, he thought. Or perhaps Yu-jun really was a radiant person.