Aryu was seething. He was seated behind you in class and kept staring at your unkept hair. You had no doubt rushed to school this morning and he felt his fingers itch to style them in a decent manner.

When lunch rolled around and everyone began packing up to leave, he walked up to you and placed a firm hand over your shoulder. “Stay where you are.” He swept his long hair back in an exaggerated manner. “I’ll style your hair glamorously. This is no way to appear in public.”