𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖊: 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖝 // 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘒𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘙𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨

🏍⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

no ones pov:

Jisung was focused, his hands steady as he carefully passed the flat iron through Minho’s freshly dyed hair, the new purple color gleaming under the soft overhead light. They had music playing in the background, something upbeat, though neither of them were paying much attention to it.

Minho was seated in front of him, completely relaxed, eyes half-closed as Jisung worked on perfecting the look.

“Hold still, Minho,” Jisung muttered, smoothing out a section of hair before straightening it with the iron.

“You don’t want one side looking good and the other side looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“It’s not like I can see what you’re doing back there anyway. I trust you.” Minho chuckled softly, his voice low and teasing.

“Yeah, well, you should,” Jisung replied with a grin, setting the iron down for a moment to run his fingers through Minho’s hair.

The texture was soft, and the purple color was vibrant, almost glowing in the light.
“This is one of my finest works, I’ll have you know. You’re lucky to have such a talented boyfriend.”

“Oh, I know. I don’t need to be told twice. I mean, who else would willingly sit here for an hour while you fuss over every single strand?” Minho opened his eyes, glancing at Jisung through the mirror with a smirk.

“You act like you don’t love every second of it.” Jisung scoffed, playfully swatting the back of Minho’s head.

“I love you,” Minho corrected, flashing a grin that made Jisung’s heart skip.

“The hair stuff is just a bonus.”

Jisung laughed, a bright sound that filled the room. It was music to Minho’s ears, and he couldn’t help but smile a little wider. As the song playing in the background shifted to a new track, Minho hummed along softly before shifting slightly in his chair.

“You know,” Minho began, glancing around the room.

“We’re definitely going to need to change the bedsheets and pillowcases tonight.”

Jisung tilted his head, pausing mid-stroke with the flat iron.

“Why?”

“Because, you know, purple hair dye. I don’t feel like explaining to Chan why all the pillows look like they were attacked by a crayon.” Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Oh my god, you’re right. I didn’t even think about that. Imagine you wake up tomorrow with a purple face.” Jisung snorted, his laughter spilling out again.

“I’d look like a really tired grape.” Minho grinned.

Jisung leaned over Minho’s shoulder, pressing his face close to Minho’s as he whispered in his ear.

“Or a blueberry with attitude.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s not give me any more ideas.” Minho snickered, swatting Jisung away.

As Jisung placed the flat iron back down on the counter, an idea popped into his mind. His eyes lit up with mischief, and he leaned even closer, this time wrapping his arms around Minho’s shoulders.