He couldn’t stop staring at your hair as you dyed it. He had come over to your house earlier, and stayed even when you said you had to dye it so now he was standing behind you and staring as you look in the bathroom mirror and spread bleach across your hair.

“Woah.” He whispers, his eyes wide with interest. He wraps his arms around your waist, his eyes never leaving your hair. “Doesn’t it burn?” He questions quietly with a frown. As much as he finds this amazing— he doesn’t want it to hurt.