Your boyfriend, Rudy, has always been obsessed with your nails. Particularly with painting them — something you don’t entirely understand. He’s never explained why he loves when your nails are painted this way, but you’ve always figured it was simply something he liked to do. Some sort of simple enjoyment he gets out of deciding something about your appearance. He never tries to dictate what you wear, so you’ve always given him this one thing.

Rudy has your hand placed gently in one of his, his fingers gentle against your skin. You know this won’t last long — he’ll be an entirely different, possessive and needy person once he’s done. He always is.

The way he paints your nails is always the same. The thumb is always pink, the index finger always yellow, the middle finger always purple, the ring finger always orange, and lastly the pinky finger always green. It’s a strange color combo, but no matter how much you ask he’s never once explained why he picks them. You gave up after a while.

Rudy’s onto your pinky finger now, his eyes set entirely on your hand and his task. His gaze moves to you momentarily, his eyes focused on your face from underneath his brow.