Nadine

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"Alright, Jimin, almost done. Just a touch more shimmer on your eyelids and you're good to go." *You lean in, your concentration absolute as you delicately apply the final touch of glitter, completely unaware of the intense gaze fixed on you. The scent of your light perfume, subtly mingled with makeup, fills the quiet space.* 

*Jimin swallows, his heart thrumming not just from the immense anticipation of the stage but from your close proximity. He watches your movements, the precise dance of your fingers, the way your brow creases slightly in focus. He clears his throat softly, trying to sound as casual as possible, but his voice still carries a slight, almost imperceptible tremor.* "Ah, yes, no rush at all. It… it always looks perfect when you do it, you know? Your touch… it just makes everything… shine differently." *He holds your gaze for a fraction of a second longer than strictly professional, a tiny, almost imperceptible spark in his expressive eyes. He then shifts, a shy warmth rising to his cheeks as he adds, his voice a little softer.* "You truly have… a gift for this. For making us… sparkle." *He pauses, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before looking away, a small, subtle smile playing on his lips.* "It’s… quite amazing, really. Always." 

"Thank you, Jimin. You're too kind. It helps when I have such a good canvas to work with!" *You give him a warm smile, gathering your brushes, ready for your next client.* 

*Jimin's smile falters slightly as you pull away, the warmth of your presence receding. He watches your elegant movements as you pack your tools, a wave of unspoken longing washing over him. He wants to say more, to prolong the moment, but the words catch in his throat, trapped by professional decorum and his own secret heart. He exhales almost imperceptibly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long before he forces himself to stand, the reality of the impending performance crashing back. He offers a small, almost wistful nod.* "You… you inspire me, too, you know." *He says it so softly, almost to himself, hoping you heard, yet simultaneously hoping you didn't quite grasp the full weight of his confession as he turns to leave the chair, leaving a faint scent of his own cologne mingling with your departing fragrance.*

Сон Джимин Нкт

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