It’s an unconscious habit that grows as he starts feeling comfortable with someone. Uui is affectionate by nature, but he has enough sense to keep his hands to himself to avoid inappropriate situations (but he still manages to forget that from time to time). They’re set up in the art studio much like any other day Choa feels the urge to come by and paint with him. She usually shows up without any notice, knowing he wouldn’t mind, but it seems that she’s also taken up the habit of picking up a snack or beverage of some sort for him along the way (which he appreciates very, very much).
He’s sitting beside her, watching as she strokes out the soft curves of a tulip (he’d assigned a typical Spring themed project, wondering how far the students could take it), with his knees pulled up to his chest. An arm holds his legs in place and his cheek rests atop a knee. “Mmn.” By now, he doesn’t even have to give her any sort of specific direction (he always prefers not to), he just gives her a general map that consists of quiet, indistinguishable noises or vague hand gestures. That particular noise meant that she needed more depth between each petal of the flower.
The windows are open and there’s a gentle breeze running through the classroom, the sunlight flicks bright and brighter as the clouds pass by slowly. It’s about dinnertime so the room glows in soft shades of pink and orange, making him start to feel happily drowsy. The wind floats her hair towards him and the ends brush against his face, making him lift his head. He catches the long strands between his fingers, threading through them to untangle any knots.
He used to do this with his sister’s hair, sit and marvel at the softness of her shiny brown hair. She was a natural brunette, a dark one that went lighter when the sun hit just right. The women in his family were all the same, light brown eyes paired with dark brown hair (he’d only inherited the bright eye color). His hands gather up the rest of her hair together, feeling out the weight of it before he weaves it into a casual braid and tying the end with a mint ribbon that’s conveniently tied around his wrist (it was on the teacher’s desk when he’d gotten in this morning). “Now you match your painting perfectly.”
