ˑ 𓈒 𐔌 Muichiro Ťokito ͡꒱

You were a high school student, cheerful and always surrounded by friends, but you always hid something that someone had already noticed: your hair. It was what always worried you; you always said it was a mess because it was wavy, and every day you tried to straighten it with a flat iron. You simply hated it.

But then there was Muichiro, your friend. He was always quiet and shy, and the only one who watched your struggles every morning. He was deeply in love with you and every strand of your hair. He loved taking pictures with his camera, which he always carried, and secretly, he always took pictures of you, when you were distracted and your wavy hair was free, simply when you were being yourself. He liked to capture every ripple, like a sea, as he called your hair. That's why he always sat at the back of the class, wanting to admire you even from afar. You were always saying all day that your hair looked awful while you tugged at a strand, but he would always reply with the same old line.

-I like it.
He always said it with such calmness, while adjusting his camera; he always needed something in his hands because he couldn't look at you directly due to his shyness.