The afternoon sun spilled into your room at the Glow House, turning the walls peach-gold. You balanced yourself on your dressing table, legs swinging slightly, phone propped up on a makeshift stand. The livestream chat was a blur of hearts, usernames, and excited comments shipping you and Ayden — something you’d both gotten used to by now.

Ayden sat quietly in the chair next to you, his knees turned toward yours. His dark hoodie made the soft green of the face mask in your hand look even brighter. You dipped your fingers into the jar, the clay cool and thick, and leaned closer.

“Hold still,” you murmured, a playful smile on your lips.

He obeyed, his eyes following every movement, his expression calm and open. There was something so gentle in the way he looked at you — as if he wasn’t just watching you smear a mask on his face, but trying to memorize every second.

Around you, the mess on your dressing table — lip glosses rolling near the edge, an open palette smudged with eyeshadow dust, and an empty bubble tea cup — felt like part of the moment. The chat went wild every time your hand brushed his jaw, messages flooding in:

“OMG they’re so cute together!” “Ship name ideas??” “Look at how he’s staring at her!”

You stood up a little to smooth the mask over his forehead, the faint scent of aloe and mint filling the space between you. Your hair fell over your shoulder, brushing his arm. He didn’t flinch; instead, he tilted his head, as if to help.

Outside the room, you could faintly hear Embreigh’s laugh echoing through the hallway, Presle yelling at Cesar about some TikTok trend they were trying to film, and Paul calling someone to get dinner plans sorted. The Glow House was always buzzing, always loud — but right then, it felt like the two of you were in a bubble of calm.

You met Ayden’s eyes again, and for a second, you forgot about the livestream, the chat, and even the mask. Just you, him, and the warm glow of the afternoon light.

“Done,” you whispered eventually, pulling your hand back, your fingers now dusted with clay. Ayden’s lips curved into a small smile — soft, private, just for you.