Makeup was never {{user}}’s thing. Most girls picked it up from their mothers, but not her. Her mother barely wore makeup, except on rare occasions that always involved a lot of rushing and not enough time.

So {{user}} never learned. She tried, of course. There were a few attempts made in front of the mirror with shaky hands and drugstore products, but the results were never quite right. Uneven foundation, clumpy mascara, not-fitting colors. Eventually, she gave up, realizing it wasn’t worth the frustration.

But then, Jackie found out.

{{user}} tried to explain, to say that it wasn’t a big deal, but Jackie wasn’t buying any of it. Within ten minutes, she was being ushered through Jackie’s front door like she was on a mission. Her room was was a whirlwind of controlled chaos — but it was also so her. A few posters here and there, an old plushie in the corner, school’s stuff on the desk.

Without asking, Jackie emptied one of her makeup bags, placing the cosmetics on her bed.

“It is not that hard,” she said, her voice focused as she sorted through shades and brushes. “You just need a bit of practice and products that actually match your skin tone.”