ruffles his hair
Flinching is an involuntary reaction ; instinctive regardless of awareness. Unnaturally heavy footfall is impossible to ignore or misinterpret, and the humming current of energy is all too familiar in it’s approach. So, while he knows without a doubt who it is, he still cringes when the hand settles atop his head and sends his hair into further disarray.
But following that is a smile. Small and subdued at first as he tips his head back against the subtle pressure to peer upwards, it’s soon pulling at the corners of his lips and met with little resistance as it broadens into a grin that’s - embarrassingly - nearly all teeth before he speaks.
❝ ━ Teacher ! ❞










