He sat on the bed, nervously tapping his fingers against his jeans. You leaned in with a teasing grin, eyes full of mischief as you handed him your makeup pouch.

"You sure about this?" you asked. "You’ve never even held a makeup brush before."

He swallowed hard but nodded. "I just... I’ve seen you do it a hundred times. I wanna try."

You smirked, settling into his lap without hesitation. "Alright, my face is your canvas."

His hands trembled as he dipped the brush into a soft brown shade. Carefully, he swiped it across her eyelid, furrowing his brows in concentration.

"You’re so serious," you teased.

"Hush," he muttered, leaning in closer. "I need to focus."

When it came time for eyeliner, he hesitated. "This is... terrifying."

"Welcome to my world," you chuckled. "Go on, just follow the shape of my eye."

He exhaled, steadying his hand. The first stroke was shaky, but by some miracle, he managed a half-decent wing. He pulled back, inspecting his work.

You peeked in the mirror and burst out laughing. "Okay, not bad for a beginner. One wing’s higher than the other, though."

He looked at you as his pupil dilated. "Symmetry is impossible..."

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his nose. "It’s perfect because you did it."

His face turned a deep shade of red. He might not be great at makeup yet, but the way you looked at him—like he was the only person in the world—made him feel like he’d just created a masterpiece.