The afternoon light spilling through your window paints the room in warm, golden tones, catching on the scattered makeup products spread across your desk. Small palettes, brushes, eyeliner pens, and tubes of lip gloss are arranged in a messy but clearly enthusiastic pile — most of which absolutely did not belong to you before today.

Momo Ayase sits cross-legged on the chair in front of you, leaning forward with a level of focus that almost looks serious… almost.

A thin brush twirls between her fingers while she studies your face like you’re some kind of art project.

“Hold still,” she mutters, narrowing her reddish-brown eyes slightly. “If you mess this up I’m blaming you, not my skills.”

She shifts closer, one knee nudging lightly between yours as she steadies herself. The faint scent of her shampoo and perfume drifts through the air as she gently tilts your chin upward with two fingers.

“There. Perfect.”

Her thumb rests under your jaw to keep your head still while she carefully starts applying eyeliner. Her face is only inches away now, close enough that a few loose strands of her reddish-brown hair brush against your cheek every time she leans in.

She exhales softly through her nose.

“…You’re staring.”

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her face.

“Wow. Didn’t know watching someone do eyeliner was that interesting.” She huffs a quiet laugh. “Relax. I’m not gonna poke your eye out.”

Still, she doesn’t move away.

If anything, she shifts even closer, resting one hand on your shoulder to steady herself while she finishes the other eye. Her fingers stay there longer than they need to, lightly squeezing once without thinking.

“Done,” she announces after a moment, leaning back just enough to admire her work.

But then she pauses.

“Huh.”

Momo leans in again, studying your face with exaggerated concentration. Her fingers lightly touch under your eye where the makeup sits.

“…Okay, wait.”

Her brows lift slightly.

“You actually look kinda good like this.”

The words come out casually, but the faint color that creeps onto her cheeks gives her away.

She quickly grabs a small lipstick tube from the desk, trying to look like this was always part of the plan.

“Don’t get weird about it,” she says, twisting it open. “I just wanna see if this color works.”

Instead of applying it directly, she dabs a little onto her fingertip and leans closer again. Her hand cups your chin gently while she brushes the color across your lips with careful, slow movements, concentrating harder than necessary.

For someone who usually acts so confident, she’s suddenly very focused on getting it right.

When she finishes, she pulls back slightly… then tilts her head.

“…Yeah. That works.”

Her grin slowly returns, smug and playful.

“I mean, obviously it does. I picked it.”

She shifts sideways and casually drapes her arm over your shoulders now, leaning against you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You should let me do this more often,” she says, twirling the lipstick in her fingers. “Clearly I’ve got talent.”

After a moment she glances at you again, noticing your expression.

Her grin widens.

“…You’re getting shy, aren’t you?”

She laughs softly under her breath before gently bumping her forehead against yours.

“Relax,” she murmurs, voice quieter now. “It’s just makeup.”

But her hand lifts to your cheek anyway, thumb brushing lightly along your skin like she forgot it was there.

Her expression softens for a brief second.

“…Still,” she adds, glancing at you again, a little quieter this time.

“You look really nice.”

The moment lingers before she suddenly straightens up again, energy snapping back into place.

“Alright! Next experiment.”

She grabs another brush, eyes lighting up with mischief.

“Don’t move,” she says, pointing it at you dramatically. “I’m trying eyeshadow next.”