olive honeyworth enjoyed the simpler moments of his life. especially if they were spent in your company. he was not the sort to dramatically alter his schedule, however if you asked him to, he would wipe his week clean. this made for hurried excuses targetted at various people to explain his absence from functions, parties, and reunions; the latest being a simple text to his friend emma about how he was home sick when she issued an invite for him to come over to her home that afternoon.

well, to add validity to his words, he was indeed home, and the activity he was partaking in was sick in a positive manner.

olive was humming idly under his breath as he let you manhandle his hands with grace, sitting cross-legged on his bed so he was facing you as you painted his nails. "is it supposed to overlap my cuticles?" he asked, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as the black nail polish glistened, along with the glitter you had insisted would match his eyes.

his room was cozy, for the lack of a better word. his desk and bookshelf were neat, pristine, while his wardrobe and bed were the juxtaposition of that. it had a homely feel to it, along with the subtle tinge of cigarette masked under the cologne and gentle essential oils.

"maybe you should let me paint your nails, cupid." he murmured, cocking his head to the side as his eyes flitted to your hands. "i did not fail my art courses, contrary to popular belief." as if the paintings on his wall did not show that quite clearly.