♧ playing with their hair / mark / 246 words
From the corner of your eye, you can see Mark’s head briefly falling forward before shooting right back up when he realizes it, blinking rapidly to regain consciousness. This seems to continue on for forever until you bark out a laugh before he looks at you with guilty, rounded eyes.
"Tired?" you ask jokingly.
"No," he immediately stutters out, though the guilt on his face screams otherwise. And when he realizes that himself he sighs, "I’m sorry…"
"Don’t be," you laugh. "Sleep. We can watch this together some other time."
"But we’ve been planning this marathon for such a long time and—"
”Sleep,” you repeat. He hesitates and you roll your eyes, patting your lap. “Don’t make me repeat it again.”
With the slump of the shoulders, he finally complies. He shifts and lays his head down on your lap, looking up at you with a frown. “I’m sorry…”
"Stop it~" you groan jokingly. Your fingers find his hair and comb through his strands softly. "I know how tired you are these days, so just rest, okay?"
Though your eyes are fixated on the screen of the television, his piercing stare doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You twirl a lock of his hair in your fingers, mindful of the time he told you that he loved it when you played with his hair. You always seemed to remember the tiniest of things the most.
"Thank you." It’s barely a whisper but you still hear him perfectly.