On the work trip to Milan, you notice Nanami pacing slightly in the hotel room, fingers constantly running through his neatly combed hair. He’s been unusually quiet since you returned from the meetings, a faint scowl tugging at his face. When you finally ask what’s bothering him, he mutters something about finding more grey hairs that morning. You can’t help but smile to yourself, watching the ever-composed Nanami be annoyed over something so small. To you, the grey streaks only add to his sharp, polished look — they suit him, especially here in the fashion capital where everyone tries so hard to look effortlessly stylish.

He clearly doesn’t share the sentiment, frowning as if the hairs personally insulted him. You assure him he still looks great, but he just sighs, brushing off the compliment with his usual reserved demeanor. Still, you notice the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly, a hint of amusement slipping through.