DO NOT COPY

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The wind had been having a field day with your hair, whipping it into your eyes and mouth no matter how many times you tried to fix it. You were halfway through an annoyed sigh when a familiar voice came from behind you.

“Messy again,” Shion said, his tone caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

You turned, already seeing that look on his face — the one that said I told you so without a single word. “It’s not my fault the wind hates me.”

“It doesn’t hate you.” He stepped closer, fingers already tugging at the hairtie on his wrist. “It just gives me excuses.”

“Excuses for what?” you asked, but your heart already knew.

He didn’t answer, just tipped his head slightly and gestured for you to turn around. You did, and immediately felt his fingers brushing against your hair, warm and sure.

“You know, most guys wouldn’t carry this around,” you teased.

“I’m not ‘most guys,’” he said simply, combing through a stubborn knot. “Besides, this way everyone knows I’m taken.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Shion, a hairtie isn’t exactly a wedding ring.”

“Mm. No, but it’s mine,” he said, gathering your hair together. “And it’s in your hair. Same thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed anyway. He started braiding, slow and deliberate, pulling just enough to keep it neat but never enough to hurt. Every now and then his fingers would graze your neck, and you weren’t entirely convinced it was accidental.

When he tied it off, he gave your braid a playful tug. “Perfect. No more wind attacks.”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “You know I could’ve just tied it myself, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “But then I wouldn’t get to touch you.”

And just like that, the wind didn’t seem so bad after all.