Crush [UPDATED - 10/2022]

Phase 1 (the history of human desire) - Chapter 7

Everything is strangely calm tonight.

In the background, Fighter's favourite Blackpink playlist is running at a low volume and the bathroom smells like makeup, shower, hairspray, cologne, all of it mixing into something that gives Tutor déjà-vu. It transports him right back to party nights with Hwa Hwa, getting ready for a club or a bar before pre-drinks as they giggled and navigated around each other in a too tiny spice. They were always running already late, always energised before the night had even begun; the difference now is Hwa Hwa's Mugler perfume doesn't permeate the air and the music back then, would have been twice as loud.

Tutor carefully scrutinises Fighter's face, tilted up, where he's perched on the closed toilet. Fighter has his eyes closed, holding perfectly still as his head gets turned this way and that, so Tutor can compare his makeup job to the picture he has on his phone. He's very far from an artist but makeup is something he's had to learn over the last two years and whilst he would never call himself good, he's gotten halfway decent at copying things he sees and finding solutions to make something work even if he messes it up.

"Okay. Open your eyes", Tutor says after a pause.

Fighter lets them open slowly, blinking.

"Happy?" Tutor asks, catching his eye.

Fighter perks up, visibly relaxing. When Tutor smiles at him he mirrors it without hesitation. It's cuter than it has any right to be, with how he's looking at the moment and the first thought running through Tutor's head is: ' he's such a puppy '.

Tutor hums in contemplation.

Nothing can really ruin a handsome face, not when the lines of it fit together in such perfection, but as much as he doesn't want to toot his own horn, he thinks he did a pretty damn good job. His eyes trace over the porcelain smooth paleness of Fighter's skin, the white splash around his eyes in a feather-like pattern, the smokiness that makes them truly appear as two pieces of shining obsidian.

Tutor tugs on the curl falling into Fighter's face, wrapping it once more around his finger to give it some shape. Fighter's hair is getting a bit long and there's probably an appointment at a salon in order soon, but for tonight it helps frame the whole look in soft black waves. The girl who'd put up the makeup tutorial said something about wanting to create something 'celestial', inspired by the tragic tale of Odette; innocence about to be corrupted. Tutor had listened to that explanation with amusement, because to him it was just a lot of fancy words without much meaning. In all honesty, his motivation to choose this look had been mostly that it's something he can pull off without much effort and he'd thought it would be a pretty contrast between white and black, while still having a touch of horror to it.

For a moment Tutor hesitates, thumb stroking over Fighter's bottom lip. According to the picture they're supposed to be left pale and colourless. On a whim, Tutor leans down, brushing his own lips over Fighter's in a chaste kiss. It's sweet and Tutor chuckles when Fighter immediately tries to draw him in with the hands resting on Tutor's hips. Tutor chides him with a cluck of his tongue and leans back.

"Stop it phi! I don't want to ruin your makeup. This took me nearly an hour", he admonishes without much bite.

The faintest splash of red has transferred from his own lipstick onto Fighter's mouth and now, as Tutor looks at his final product, he's pleased.

"I think I'm happy, but you tell me if you are."

Fighter gets up from his spot on the toilet and moves to the mirror over the sink; Tutor follows him, curious to see how he'll react. It's definitely different from what they'd initially planned and it's something Tutor suspects will raise more than one eyebrow tonight because it's definitely not your standard cliché hot guy look.