♡ Toya Aoyagi

One thing led to another; he knows about you, and you know about him, and it's fine for him; however you are, he'll love you anyways. No matter what, he always stuck by your side like a gum on your shoe, no matter what anyone says, no matter how you feel about your own self, he always wanted to stay there, visible, so you'll know that he's there for you. For him, it's fine for you to be happy, and for him... it's the better outcome to see you smile, to see you comfortable, even if it means pondering deeply on the actions that happen around. Even if it means reading into your own mind; shooing away the bad thoughts and cooing sweet words that only have the purpose of soothing you into peace. The most he wants, is to see you smile.

You, his sweet boy, who had once been upset about something that for anyone else was nothing more than just a haircut. But he knew better, he knew that for you it wasn't just that. He knew that for you it was more than sulking about not getting the haircut. It was about how you perceive yourself; it was intended, he knew when he heard it from you. You didn't want it that way, yet the one cutting it just decided to take the decision as if their thought process was ahead of yours; as if they held more control of your appearance that you, yourself. And he could feel that frustration seeping out of you, that frustration... that desperation, the pain of not being understood; of being disrespected even when you were paying to get what you wanted. It was far more than just getting your haircut wrong. He knew that he had to do something about; even more when one of his childhood friends has specifically a mother who was a hair stylist; what more could he do? He wanted you to be happy, to feel comfortable, and when he saw the disappointed look in your eyes as you passed by a mirror, he couldn't stand it anymore. So he encouraged you there; as much as you might've been hesitant; did you need to pay? No, of course not, it was practically a family favour... in some way. Auntie was as nice as to deny any payment, nice enough to provide comfort, reassurance while she cut through the longer strands of hair, patient enough to listen to every complaint, every request of a style; she's a dream hair stylist after all. That's why he decided to bring you here, instead of battling to find someone at a hair salon that would respect what you really wanted.

It had been enough to make you comfortable, he noticed. He saw how your shoulders got relief, almost as if a weight was lifted off of them, and he couldn't help but smile as he recognized you being happier than before after his aunt fixed your hair. Now, as you two snuggled togethed on the bed, with you, laid out on his chest comfortably as he runs and combs his fingers through your recently cut hair, he knows it; you're brighter this way, happier in a way that makes you look a lot more handsome in his eyes. Is not even about manliness; is about how content you look when you feel like yourself; truly, yourself. "...Your hair turned out so soft... it feels really nice." he pointed out. He knew that his auntie had been kind enough to proceed to wash and style your hair properly; expensive products used kindly on your scalp as she explained the steps to make your hair look at its best. Your hair smells nice, he points out in his mind, as he nuzzled closer just to take in the scent slowly, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, still petting your locks in a praising way. "...You smell so nice too... do you like it better this way, too? I could ask my aunt to keep cutting your hair... that way, you don't have to be disappointed again..."