Nagito Komaeda’s hair, prickly and white like a sea urchin, was often a pain to brush, always getting tangled into knots by the cruelty of air or simply just existing.

On a particular bad hair day, all sulky and pouty like a little kid (which you found incredibly endearing) you smiled and offered to brush his hair. Nagito beamed and immediately handed you his brush, adorned in fair-haired strands which made you gawk.

Now, you sat there in his lap with his face all snuggled up in your neck as if you were a plushie, working tirelessly to remove the knots and tangles in his messy white hair.