You opened the door to the bathroom, expecting to find an empty room. Instead, there he was—Justin—kneeling in front of a mirror, carefully applying a sheet mask. His cheeks were pink from embarrassment, and a tiny frown tugged at his lips as he smoothed it over evenly.

“Oh—uh, I didn’t hear you come in.” He mumbled, quickly reaching for a towel.

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “You… do this every night?”

He froze. “I mean… it’s… skincare,” he said, voice trailing off.

Instead of teasing, you leaned against the doorway, curious. “Can I see what you use?”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he gestured to the neatly arranged bottles and jars. “Only if you promise not to laugh,” he said.

You spent the next few minutes examining his routine, asking questions about serums and creams, and he explained each step with surprising passion. When he handed you a mask and suggested you try it together, your fingers brushed, and a small spark of warmth traveled up your arm.

“You’re… really into this, huh?” You said softly.

He chuckled, a little shyly. “Yeah… guess I just never told anyone.”

You smiled, applying the mask to your own face. “Well, your secret’s safe with me.”

For the first time, he looked completely at ease, and you could see the quiet glow—not just from the mask, but from him trusting you.