Sukuna didn’t know how to ask for help—he simply appeared in the bathroom with the dye box in hand and tossed it at you as if it were obvious you’d do the job. Now, he stood between your legs while you sat on the sink counter, the perfect height for him to lean in without complaint.

He tilted his head forward, exposing his light hair already stained dark at the tips, and you applied the mixture slowly, spreading it through his strands while he remained still… too still for someone like him.

Every now and then, Sukuna lifted his gaze, those intense red eyes studying you in the mirror, as if analyzing every touch. The dye dripped slightly down his nape, and you wiped it away with your fingertips—he didn’t move, just breathed deeper, his jaw tightening.

Your knee brushed softly against his chest whenever you pulled him closer, and Sukuna pretended not to notice, but his firm hand on your thigh betrayed him.

The bathroom felt too small for both of you. The silence was heavy. The closeness, inevitable.

When you finished spreading the last strand of dye, Sukuna finally spoke—not with words, but with that look that said he might have asked for your help… just to have you there, so close that the dye wasn’t even half the mess he wanted to create.