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“If you don’t sit still, this lip tint is going to make you look like a clown, Jinjin.”
Dipping the applicator in the peach-colored liquid, Wonyoung inched closer to her best friend. Both of them sat cross-legged on the floor. Yujin wanted to do this on her bed, but Wonyoung was scared the makeup would stain Yuijn’s sheets. “If I end up looking like a clown after this, princess, then that’s on you and your skills—.”
Wonyoung pouted, and immediately, Yujin shut up.
Smirking, Wonyoung brushed the stray hairs off Yujin’s temple and leaned forward, dabbing the doe-end against Yujin’s lower lip. She had done this many a time before. Like coloring by numbers. Like tracing her favorite outline. But that didn’t mean she’d already gotten used to Yujin’s ever-present gaze weighing down on her as she did so.
When their eyes met, Yujin’s always the first to dart away, but Wonyoung’s always the first to acknowledge it. With a cough. With a clear of her throat. With a squeeze of her jaw.
“There. I think it looks fine,” Wonyoung pointed out, raising the hand mirror up to Yujin’s eye level. “See, peach looks good on you. Not too strong, not too subtle. Just right.”
Yujin pursed her lips together, puckered them, and blew kisses in the air as if to show it off. Wonyoung bit back a smile as she watched the older girl’s dimples bloom on her cheek, fighting the urge to want to poke them—pinch them. “Not bad. Maybe it was worth spending all your money on that after all.”
Wonyoung shrugged, “I don’t know. Almost sounds like I know what I’m talking about when it comes to these things, Jinjin.” The lilt in her voice was undeniably tinged in pride. “Now, how about we complement that with some—.”
“What about you?”
Wonyoung’s eyes rested on the hand Yujin already had wrapped around her wrist, keeping her steady. When she lifted her eyes back up towards Yujin’s, the other girl went wide in mild shock before shifting elsewhere—to Wonyoung’s shoulders or chin. “I mean … your lips. Don’t you want to try some of these too?”
“Yujin, these are my products. Of course I’ve tried them all.”
“Doubt it. I bet you haven’t used this,” she paused, picking up a random tube among the pile of cluttered paraphernalia on the floor. “Ornate Orenji? What the hell is this?”
“Some Japanese one, I think. Rei gave that to me when she first joined the club,” Wonyoung explained as her best friend sighed in disappointment upon seeing the tube already half-consumed. “Yujin—.”
“How about this one then? Um, Fuchsia Folly-a-ducks? What even is this color? Is that even a color?”
Wonyoung crinkled her nose and reached out for the tint Yujin’s got held up against the light. “It’s pronounced folie à deux. And what do you mean you don’t know what fuchsia is? Want to—?”
“This one looks like something you might wear. Let’s try this … Sepia Secret?” Yujin cooed, popping the vial open and tossing the button top along with the other caps. “Oh. Oh wow, this smells earthy. Like dried leaves and acorns.”
“Ya, don’t just keep opening them all—at least put them back together properly,” Wonyoung snapped in reply, quickly stopping Yujin from squeezing the current tint too hard and splattering it all over her room. “And that color’s pretty buns anyway. I barely use it.”
“Alright, princess, then what do you want me to try on you?”
“Yujin, why do you even want to do that?”
She held her breath. Yujin’s skin would usually pale around the winter, but right now, Wonyoung could see them heating up with a natural blush. “I … You don’t need me to say it out loud, do you?”
“Hmm,” Wonyoung pondered, pointer tapping her lip. “No, I think I do. Out with it now.”
“Ya … Whatever. I just … you know—?”
“Yeah? What do I know, Jinjin?’
“Geez, just …” Yujin stammered, forgetting her next thought when Wonyoung raised her brows at her, stare never wavering. “I … You’re pretty, Wonyoungie. Pretty as you already are. And I just thought … what would it be like being in your shoes.”
“In my shoes?”
Rubbing her arm, Yujin nodded in defeat. “Must be nice having such a dollface like yours, princess. If I had one, I think … I think I’d be more into all of, well, this,” Yujin gestured, pointing to all the remaining untouched makeup around them.
In a heartbeat, Wonyoung closed the gap between them and placed her hands upon Yujin’s thighs. Yujin tried to look away coyly, but Wonyoung tapped the backs of her palms against Yujin’s knees, and without much hesitation, the embarrassed girl succumbed to her best friend’s demands, fitting her hands around hers.
“You’re pretty too, Yujin. More … more than you know,” Wonyoung whispered. Yujin looked cute like this too—all meek with her tongue tied. Wonyoung knew she was no match for the sharp-tongued and more boyish side of Yujin, but this—this she can work with better. “How about I pick out a shade and you … you try it on me. See how it looks.”
Eyes turning up now, Yujin pouted. “Are you sure? I … I wouldn’t know the first thing about touching up your face, Wonyoungie.”
Chuckling, Wonyoung pulled free one hand to slip one of her favorite colors—Cherry Delight—into Yujin’s, chin now tilted upwards for her, eyes now closed in anticipation. “Just do what feels natural, Jinjin. I’ll be happy to wear whatever you decorate me with.”
Several breaths of silence fell in between them.
And then, Wonyoung felt it.
The dab of the brush. The stroke of her touch. The motions and trembles of her hand.
Wonyoung tried not to laugh over her adorable ministrations, but through a quick peek between supposedly sealed-shut eyes, the younger girl caught a glimpse of her best friend. A hunch in her brow. Folds and creases along her forehead. Her own mouth pulled taut before snapping back in recoil as she focused.
Wonyoung wished for that bottle of tint to never run out. As Yujin’s face drew closer and closer to hers, Wonyoung wished that they could stay close like this forever.
She wished they could be this way forever.
With a final curl of the brush along the corner of her mouth, flicking upwards accidentally and nicking some of her philtrum, a soft popping-and-rolling sound signaled to Wonyoung that it was already done. “How do I look? Let me see—.”
She felt a palm caress her cheek, stroking it tenderly. “Shh. Don’t move, Wonyoungie. Remember?”
“But that’s only for when you’re applying—.”
“Stay still. Let it dry. Let me … take a closer look.”
Wonyoung’s heart stopped.
She knew she should be doing something about this encroaching presence she’s feeling. She knew she should be saying something—speaking out about what Yujin was about to do. She knew should have felt something—anything—else: fear, concern, apprehension, hesitation.
But instead, Jang Wonyoung felt nothing but bliss in this moment.
For as she opened her eyes, much to Yujin’s chagrin, the younger girl witnessed first-hand how it all fell apart.
If Wonyoung had to pick a specific moment in time when their relationship—whatever it is they had—all began to blur and crumble, it was this moment.
Peaches. Yujin’s lips tasted awfully like peaches.
To Wonyoung, this was it.
This was their ground zero.
Wonyoung finds herself knocked onto the ground as her best friend zeros in on her.
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