Dania Kashin

— Can I... — the guy hesitates — can I try? — he asks quietly.

— What? — Ruslan doesn't understand his companion.

— God, why are you so dense, — the redhead gets annoyed, — like, paint your nails, — Danila explains, even quieter.

— Why not your own? — the blue-haired guy laughs, asking a rhetorical question.

— What do you mean? The guys wouldn't get it. It's not exactly "manly," — he explains seriously.

Ruslan doesn't answer, he only carefully slides the bottle of black polish to the other end of the desk, closer to Danila. Without a word, the latter pulls the jar closer, unscrews the cap, pulls out the brush, glistening with polish, and gets to work.

The redhead leans over the youth's hand and cautiously touches his hand with his own, making the first stroke. The brush glides too easily over the nail and hits the cuticle, smearing it black. Danila curses quietly under his breath: he cannot stand failure and will never admit to it.

He continues to be annoyed by the awkwardness of the task, but he has no intention of quitting what he started. His back is aching from leaning over for so long, and his hands are betraying him with a slight tremble. Danila removes his hand from the other's wrist, dips the brush back into the bottle, picks up a bit more polish, and, slowly dropping to his knees to see the nail better, begins working again.

Suddenly, a quiet chuckle is heard nearby.

— What the fuck are you laughing at? — asks Danila, focused on the task.

— Don't you think it's kind of "unmanly" to be on your knees? — Ruslan teases him.

— Keep talking, you prick! — the guy answers without looking up, finishing the last nail, — Done! — the redhead says with relief, — Alright, check out the work.

With intentional mannerism, Ruslan pulls his hand away from the redhead's warm palm, beginning to meticulously examine each finger. Besides the nail plate, the pale skin around it also glistened with black polish, as if the fingertips had been beaten with a hammer.

— Well, for a first time, it's actually not bad, he says encouragingly.

— Damn right, — Danya says smugly.