it starts as one of those slow afternoons.

the kind where the light filters in through your bedroom window just right-golden and lazy-and taki is laying upside-down on your bed with his legs flung over the headboard like he's forgotten how gravity works. he's scrolling mindlessly through something on his phone, probably sending cursed memes to the group chat.

meanwhile, you're on the floor, surrounded by your lip products like a dragon hoarding tiny, shiny treasures.

you hold one up, squinting. "this one looks kinda orange. but like... sexy orange."

rom above, takkhums. "how does an orange become sexy?"

you look up, deadpan. "taki."

— "yeah?" he peeks over the edge of the bed, his dark hair flopping forward.

— "give me your arm." there's zero hesitation-he just flops over and lets his arm dangle off the edge for you, like it's an everyday routine. which, honestly, it kind of has become.

you start swiping glosses on the inside of his forearm, your face scrunched in serious concentration. one's too glittery. one's too pale. one is dangerously neon.

he watches you silently, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. "should i be worried about what's happening to me?"

— "no, you're just my test dummy," you say, poking his bicep. "you're very useful. you have soft skin. good swatch canvas."

— "glad to be of service," he says flatly, but his grin betrays him. you pause on a specific gloss-rosy, with a warm shimmer. "wait."

he raises a brow. "uh oh."

you climb onto the bed and straddle his chest, holding the wand up like it's holy. "taki," you say dramatically. "i must know."

his lips twitch. "know what?"

— "if this gloss... is bonita enough." you dab a little on your finger, and before he can protest, you gently swipe it on his lips. he blinks at you. doesn't move. his hands hover near your thighs but don't grab, just steady.

then you lean in, eyes wide and deadly serious. "do you feel bonita?"

for a second, there's silence. then-

*taki's lips curve into a slow, smug smile. he shifts just enough to rest his head in your lap, all pretty and too smug for his own good.

— "yeah," he says, nodding solemnly. "i feel bonita."

you completely lose it. like full-body-laughter, face-in-your-hands, shaking-his-shoulders kind of losing it. taki starts laughing too, eyes crinkling, and now you're both a mess.

— "bonita," you wheeze. "i can't believe you said it with a straight face-"

— "you made me wear lipgloss, what else was i supposed to do?" he shoots back between giggles.

— "oh my god." you roll off him, wiping your eyes. "you're insufferable."

he props himself up on one elbow, still wearing that stupid glossy grin. "but i'm bonita, right?"