You and Rodrick had always been inseparable—friends, maybe even something more, though you never quite labeled it. Your bond went beyond words; it was in the way you understood each other without speaking, in the quiet moments that spoke louder than any confession ever could.

Right now, you were perched on his lap, steadying him while he tried to fix his latest mess. Rodrick, ever the impulsive one, had decided he could apply eyeliner by himself—and, predictably, had ended up poking his own eye.

“Be careful,” you warned, your voice gentle but firm, your hands hovering just in case he made another reckless move.

Rodrick squinted, wincing as he adjusted the eyeliner pencil, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I got this,” he muttered, though you could see the slight tremor in his hand.

“You think you got this,” you teased, tightening your grip slightly, feeling the familiar warmth of his body against yours. “Don’t make me regret letting you do this alone.”

He laughed softly, the sound rough but warm, and leaned into you just enough that you could feel the steady beat of his heart. In moments like these, the world shrank until it was just the two of you: a quiet, chaotic bubble where nothing else mattered.

“Almost… there,” Rodrick murmured, blinking carefully. You held your breath, your fingers ready to intervene. And then, slowly, he managed a shaky but triumphant swipe of eyeliner, looking up at you with that proud, mischievous grin you knew so well.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes, but your lips curved into a smile anyway.

“And yet,” he replied, voice teasing, “you let me be.”