The studio was quiet when he walked in. He hesitated a second just inside the doorway, like he was still deciding if he should be here at all. Those deep, thoughtful eyes swept the room once, resting on you with a kind of quiet curiosity.

He approached the counter slowly, stopping a polite distance away. “Um,” he said, voice low and soft, “can I get an eyebrow piercing?” His fingers tapped nervously against the hem of his sleeve. “It’s… my first one.”

You nodded, trying not to stare at how pretty his eyes were up close. He held your gaze for a beat too long—shy but unblinking—then looked away with the smallest, shyest smile, like he'd already decided he trusted you more than he trusted himself.