Charlie’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands awkwardly in his lap while you shake the nail polish bottle.

“I still think I’m gonna mess it up,” he says, cheeks pink.

“You’re literally just sitting there. I’m doing the work,” you tease.

He fidgets. “Yeah, but… what if it doesn’t look good?”

You reach for his hand gently. “Then we wipe it off and try again. But spoiler—everything looks good on you.”

Charlie tries to hide his smile as you start painting. He watches you work, quiet for a minute, then whispers, “You’re being really careful.”

“Of course I am. These are important hands.”

He laughs under his breath, more relaxed now, eyes soft as he watches you. “You always make things feel like they matter.”

You glance up at him. “You do matter.”

Charlie looks down at his half-painted nails, blinking fast. “You’re gonna make me cry over black nail polish.”

You grin. “Wouldn’t be the first time you got emotional over horror aesthetics.”

He snorts. “Touché.”