Bursting into his trailer, you kicked the door shut behind you and flopped down on his couch — taking a sip of his half empty pepsi can on the coffee table.

The man was practically smoking at the ears as he desperately tried to style his curls, not even bothered that you showed up. That’s how close the two of you were, you could fall through the roof then raid his fridge and he would go on with his day with you by his side.

Slamming his fist on his vanity in frustration, he cards through his hair to try and fix the insane mop of a mess on his head. Though… that just made his hair even more frizzy and puffed up.

Turning to you, it was clear he was struggling. His damp shirt was discarded on the floor, his curl products scattered all over the place, his hair looking as if he just got electrocuted, and his jaw clenched as he desperately asked you for help through his eyes.