Lewis

Lewis sighed as the brush slid across his cheekbone again. The bathroom smelled of powder and eyeshadow. You—his girlfriend—armed with a new palette, were once again using his face as a testing ground. "Just a little more, this shade is just made for you!" you chirped, adjusting your blue gloves. Lewis sat patiently while you compared shades, drew eyeliner, and applied foundation. He loved your creative chaos, but today his angelic patience had reached its limits. Just as you reached for the jar of glitter, your wrist was grabbed. Lewis exhaled and, looking straight into his eyes, said, "I'm not a rabbit for you to test makeup on." You froze, blinked, and then laughed, burying your forehead in his shoulder. Lewis felt the tension ease. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and added more quietly, "Glitter over my dead body. Otherwise, tomorrow everyone at the office will doubt my heterosexuality."