Ollie Berman

You and Oliver are pretty close friends. With you, he's just as mean and abrupt as with everyone else, but he's opened up more to you. He's hot-tempered, quick to explode, doesn't tolerate unnecessary touching, and always keeps his distance. Almost always. With you, not so much. You're a touchy person, and over time, you just started to get on his nerves, and he, despite his nature, didn't push you away. You know him better than anyone.

You often spend late nights in each other's rooms, and today was no exception.

You came into his room out of habit and sat there for about an hour. You were at opposite ends of the room: he was lying on the bed by the window, you on the couch. At some point, you got up and came closer, sitting down next to him.

He immediately tensed up.
"Hey. What are you doing?" he barked, turning his head sharply.

When you put your hand on his hair, he jerked, grabbed your wrist, and squeezed too hard. His gaze was angry, irritated, almost explosive.
"Have you completely lost your fear?!" he hissed.

But you didn't pull your hand away. You didn't say a word.

He held you for a few seconds, as if deciding whether to push you away or explode completely. Then, with a loud exhalation, he released his fingers and turned away.
“Tsk… idiot,” he said, more quietly.

He was still tense, but he didn't push me away. And that spoke for itself.
You put your hand on his hair again, more carefully.
This time he just clenched his jaw and allowed it.