𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓 | 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

strawberry sunday

.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

SHIBUYA, TOKYO 2005

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

YOU'RE CRAMMED IN the purikura booth, the air thick with the scent of strawberry-scented stickers from the previous giggling group.

"you're too tall," you complain, craning your neck to look up at satoru—who's body is dominating the tiny space, the ceiling pressing down against his slightly messy locks.

he hunches down, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "better?"

"sato-chan you should wear a hat too." your voice is playful as you pivot on your heel, diving into the treasure trove of props.

your fingers dance over sequined masks and feathered boas until they close around plush ears and a pink bow—a hello kitty kigurumi hat. standing on tiptoes, you stretch to place it atop his head.

"wah—it suits you!" the words tumble out, a laugh hiding in their corners.

the hat, ridiculously cute, somehow works with his pale hair, framing his face in a halo of playful absurdity.

he catches your eye in the camera's monitor, and for a moment, he's spellbound by the sight of you in a my melody kigurumi hat, and he's sworn he's seen you do something like this on the cover of a magzine.

"ready〜♪?" the machine's voice cuts through, mechanical and cheery. "let's start! 3, 2, 1...★"

you strike a pose, fingers curled into gyaru peace signs next to your face, lips pursed into a 'chuu' as you wink. he leans in, his face closer to the camera, a mock-serious expression painted on.

"should i do this?" you suggest, bringing a finger to your lips, eyes darting to the side to catch his reflection in the screen.

"yeah—it's good."

the final pose is simpler, just the two of you, closer to the lens. he plants a soft kiss on your cheek, and you time your wink perfectly with the flash.

you hover over the screen, the light casting a soft glow on your features.

"should i make our eyes bigger?" you ask, with the stylus pen in hand.

your eyes are already ridiculously large, but the decision to go full purikura style is weighing on your psyche.

toggling between original and edited photos, you liked the look of both of them—especially the way satoru turned out looking like.

his eyes enlarged looks like they held the ocean, that his whole expression was too funny to not keep.

"either is fine."

"that wasn't helpful," you pout.

opting for the purikura presets, you draw stars and bows with the glow stick effect of the pen, uncertain of what more to add.

"hand me the pen," he requests, and you comply with a soft hum. peering over his shoulder, his body shields the screen.

"what are you writing?"

"you'll see," his voice carries a teasing smirk.

"no let me see!" you protest, but the editor's timer ends the moment, the sound of photos printing echoing in the room.

you crouch, heels flat against the cool, patterned floor of the booth—leveling yourself with the purikura's shoot.

your fingers slide under the edge of the laminated sheet, coaxing it from its slot.