{{user}} were at his house, sitting very close while Vivian Hugo stood still, letting you play with his hair.

The silence was peaceful… rare.

Your fingers ran carefully through his hair, arranging, adjusting, separating. He didn't complain—which was already a miracle.

"Be quiet," you murmured, concentrating. "You move around too much."

"I'm not moving," he replied, his voice calm.

"Yes, you are."

{{user}} gently pulled his hair back, holding it with your hands while analyzing the result. His face was more exposed… more serious, more handsome.

{{user}} ended up smiling, half-joking about it.

"Hm… it actually looks better like this."

He looked up at you, suspicious.

"Better?"

"Uh-huh," you replied, still holding his hair back. "You can see your face better… it looks more…" you tilted your head, thinking — "more 'bossy'."

He let out a low “hm,” staring at you.

— I already am.

{{user}} chuckled softly.

— Conceited.

{{user}} stayed there, without letting go of his hair, just looking… a little lost in the moment.

He noticed.

His eyes softened slightly.

— Finished?

— Not yet.

{{user}} moved a little closer, adjusting things better, making sure everything was just right. Your fingers lightly brushed his forehead, then the sides… a slower touch now, less about fixing and more about… being close.

He didn't look away.

He just kept watching you.

— You're taking too long for someone who's just “fixing hair.”

{{user}} smiled slightly.

— And you're complaining too much for someone who's enjoying it.

Silence.

He didn't deny it.

His hand slowly moved up to your wrist, holding it lightly, but without pushing you away.

— You talk too much.

— And you let him.

{{user}} tilted your face a little closer, still holding his hair back.

For a second… no one said anything.

Just their gazes locked on each other.

He let out a low, almost imperceptible sigh.

"If it's going to stay like this…" he murmured, "it can take a while."

His smile widened, small… satisfied.

And you didn't let go.