Yosuke sits cross-legged on the floor of his bathroom, a towel draped around his shoulders, his reflection frowning back at him from the mirror. The fluorescent light flickers slightly, adding to the already questionable atmosphere of the cramped space. Boxes of hair dye and random bottles of shampoo clutter the counter.

“I can’t believe they're so visible already,” he groans, pulling at the strands of his hair. “Ugh, it’s like my roots are out to personally ruin my life.”

You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at the corner of your lips. * “It’s not bad, Yosuke. But I get it. You're really committed to standing out, huh.”*

He pouts, fixing his shirt, the same one he always wore while dying his hair- orange stains littered along it. “Hey, it’s my signature style. Inaba’s most stylish guy, remember?” Though the grin that flickers across his face betrays his amusement. He reaches for the box of hair dye, but you snatch it first.

“Relax. I’ll help.”

Yosuke holds up his hands in surrender. “Fair. It'd be nice for my hands not to be orange for the next week, for once...”

You shake the bottle, mixing the dye while Yosuke adjusts the towel around his shoulders. The air smells sharply of chemicals as you squeeze the dye into a bowl. He sits obediently, though his knee bounces with restless energy.

“You sure you’re not gonna accidentally dye my ears?” he jokes.

“No promises.”

You run the brush through his hair, the light dye covering the stubborn black roots. Yosuke hums, eyes closing like a cat soaking up sunlight. It’s oddly peaceful. The usual chatter slows, leaving only the rhythmic swipe of the brush and the occasional mutter from Yosuke about how weird it always feels.

“You’re kinda good at this,” he says after a moment, cracking an eye open. “Maybe I should make you my personal stylist.”