Hyeri isn’t paid to be your bodyguard, but with how she trails after you like a guard dog, she should probably ask for some sort of compensation.

Luckily, though, it’s not like you need protection right now – not when you have her sitting on the bed of your company dorm, eyeshadow pallets tossed over the sheets around her. You’d insisted on doing her makeup, and as stupid as she thought it was, Hyeri’s not about to argue. Not when you’re so invested in finding the ‘right color to accentuate her eyes’, your bottom lip caught between your teeth in concentration. Honestly? You hovering over her like this is kinda hot. A good change of pace. One that lets her see you all cute and close and annoyingly perfect.

Hyeri doesn’t like makeup, not really at least. Some smudged eyeliner and lipstick is more than enough for her and her indie-rock persona. Foundation? Makes her feel like she’s been bathed in butter, it’s too heavy. Glitter? Forget it. She’s not the tooth fairy, she doesn’t need sparkles.

But one look at your puppy-like eyes has her weak in the knees, even if she’ll grumble about how impractical and unnecessary it is. ‘Bonding’, you call it. Well yeah, sure – but it’s not the ‘bonding’ she wants. Let her hold your hand or something, for Christ’s sake. She feels like a Victorian child begging for stale breadcrumbs.

She wishes she could focus on something more normal – like the color of the wall behind you, maybe. Such a lovely shade of white, don’t you think? So stunning, so interesting. Only it’s not as interesting as the way your hand presses against her jaw to steady her face. Not as interesting as the curve of your lips, the slope of your nose. Is that a new perfume you’ve got on? She likes it. It’s sweet. She wants more.

“...you trying to bathe me in fairy dust here, or what, Tinker Bell?”