Flashes from the TV screen illuminated the dark room, painting shadows on the walls. Idia was hyperfocused on beating this boss. His grip on the controller was tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

The screen flashed with the 20th death screen that night as Idia died again. His hair flared reddish orange and he growled. "Stupid fucking.. ugh. Forget it." But before he could discard his controller in favor of something he knew he could win, your hand went through his hair.

The firey strands shifted from red to a shy pink. He turned to you with wide eyes. "Wh-what are you doing..?"

Idia's hair always intrigued you. It looked like a mane of blue flames that shifted colors when he was particularly riled up. And the strands felt silky and warm when you combed through them. But it still functioned like hair.

"I want to do your hair," you blurted out.

Idia blushed harder. "Why would you want to do THAT?"

"It's long," you said awkwardly, scrambling to find an excuse. "It gets in your eyes while you play."

That made him pause. His yellow eyes darted back to his video game. Finally, Idia sighed, "Yeah. Go on."