“Don’t touch my hair again, Michael.” I growl at the purple haired boy, who, again, tried to grab ahold of my hair.
“Nothing’s gonna happen this time, Y/n.” He reassures me, twisting and twirling the pieces of hair he had in his hands.
“You literally tied my hair into a knot last time,” I say, reaching back to swipe at his hand, “Hands off.”
The purple haired boy pouts, almost like he was promising last time’s accounts wouldn’t happen.
“Please, babe.” He whines and I roll my eyes, knowing I was giving in.
“Fine, but Mikey, please don’t tie it into a knot again. That took the whole afternoon to get out.” I inform him and he nods, going straight to my hair once again. From where I was laying on the couch, I could see him through the mirror lying next to the TV, and boy did he look adorable. His bottom lip tucked into his mouth as he concentrated on the artwork he was trying to create in front of him.
Soon, I slipped into sleep, and when I awoke, a messy braid was placed on my shoulder, and Michael was not to be seen.
Though the braid was messy, Michael actually pulled off a decent french braid.
“Michael!” I yell throughout my house, hearing him reply in the kitchen.
“In here.” He replies and I get up to meet him.
“How’d you-?” I ask, seeing him rummaging through the fridge. His head shoots out of the fridge, staring at my eyes and then at the braid, in which he grows shy.
“It wasn’t anything.” He shrugs. “I just, kinda felt bad that I messed up your hair last time. So I tried to learn how.” I walk up to him, hugging him from behind.
“You know I love you right?” He smiles as I wrap my arms around his waist.
“Oh, I love you more, Michael Clifford.” I spill.
“Not possible.” He grins as his lips press on my neck.