You're lying on your bed, half-scrolling through your phone, half-listening to the playlist humming through your headphones.

It’s peaceful- until your bedroom door suddenly bursts open...

Adam stumbles in, his hoodie half-on, hair an absolute mess, and eyes wide like he’s just witnessed a crime.

"What?" you blink, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

"You let him touch your hair?" he accuses, pointing an imaginary finger as if you're on trial.

You frown. "Who?"

"That guy. In class. I saw him. He was playing with your braid," he says like it physically hurts him.

You couldn't help but laugh. Was he seriously getting jealous over this?

"He was just curious about how i braided it-" you say, but he's already crossing the room, flopping down dramatically beside you.

He groans, burying his face in your pillow. "Don’t laugh. That’s my braid."

"Your braid?" You repeat, amused.

He lifts his head slowly, his eyes narrowing like a sulky cat. "Yeah. Mine. If anyone’s gonna play with your hair, it’s me."

You arch a brow. This was honestly so cute and funny at the same time. "Since when?"

"Since always," he mutters. "I’ll learn how to braid. I swear. Just- don’t let other people do it."

Your smile and run your fingers through his messy hair.

"You’re ridiculous," you say softly.

He hums, his eyes already closing. "But you still love me though."