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Latula sat on the edge of Porrim’s bed, watching intently as she watched her delicately press eyeshadow into the crease of her eyelid. Her application was so delicate, but the payoff was astounding. No matter how often she observed her technique, she never could figure out Porrim managed to get her colors so vibrant. Was it the primer, the shadow itself, the brush, or skill alone? She struggled to piece it together in her head. A twang of envy grew in her chest as she watched her cut her crease with ease.
Latula wasn’t even sure what sparked this sudden fascination with makeup, more specifically Porrim’s makeup routine. Latula never found herself putting on anything more than some tinted lip balm and concealer even for the most formal of events. Over the years, though, Latula had begun to look at herself a lot more closely in the bathroom mirror. It seemed like the closer she looked, the more things she found to dislike. Had her pores always been this big? Why were her eyebrows so bushy? God, was that a mustache growing in? Everything about herself just felt so wrong, but she never could understand where all this self-scrutiny stemmed from. She constantly found herself staring at the covers of magazines, praying that one day she could be as effortlessly beautiful as the models. She knew that in the end, it was all a facade, but it was a facade she had no trouble believing. She never knew who or what she was trying to see in herself, she just knew it was something she seemed to lack on a fundamental level. The only other person she trusted enough to let know was her best friend Porrim.
Porrim.
Porrim Maryam was the pure embodiment of self-assurance and fierce. Everything about her felt like it was absent of flaws. Her voice was sensual and full of sass, her piercing emerald eyes, her skin rich and radiant. Her long, wavy raven hair framed her face as if she was a priceless painting. Her glossy, plump lips were always curled into a warm smile that Latula couldn’t get out of her mind. Porrim was gorgeous. She was stunning. She was perfect. She was everything that Latula could ever dream to be. She was everything that Latula wasn’t.
It was always daunting for her to remember that Porrim was the one to insist they keep in touch after high school. She was completely serious about it too. Somehow, she always made time in her schedule for her. Latula hadn’t the slightest idea why she was always on the top of her list. Did Latula really come off as that needy? Figures that all those years of venting to her made her come off as depressed, anxious and unable to function on her own? I mean, she was, but that’s beside the point. She didn’t want to come off that way. Who was she to refuse her offer though?
“Latula?” Porrim calls out her name, snapping Latula out of her little bubble. Her eyes widen as she lifts her face from her chin, her gaze meeting Porrim’s. “Huh, wha-? Oh, shit sorry girl! You know how a gal just spaces out and all.” Latula gives her a nervous smile, sitting herself back up and crossing her legs, hugging the pillow pressed against her chest. Porrim let out a quiet chuckle, and a stunning smile. “You always get so quiet when you watch me. You know, if you have questions for me, I am more than happy to answer. I’m not going to bite, Tulip.”
And there she goes with that nickname. Tulip. God damn it, It really shouldn’t get her as flustered as it did.
Latula scoffs and presses her face against the pillow, hiding her flushing face even if for a short while. “Pfft, I know that, but how am I supposed to ask about shit I have no clue about? I don’t know the terminology, no nothing. You think I know what the fuck baking is? Absolutelyfucking not”
Porrim snickered, and she couldn’t help but smile back as she heard it. Her laugh was so wonderful. She wanted to listen to it all day.
As her laughter died down, Porrim’s gaze moved back to the mirror in her palette, packing a metallic lime green against her crease. “I know you're just making a joke of it, but who better to ask about this kind of thing than me? I know I could put in a way you can understand, won’t use any of that oh so complex makeup terminology. You won’t hear me utter a single word about undertones or the aforementioned baking. I’ll stick to the basics.”
Latula huffed and pushed the pillow down. “Is this just some excuse for you to do my makeup or somethin’?”
She smirks and looks over her shoulder. “Quite possibly.”
“Figures as much. Seems ya back me into a corner, Po-po Marygams! Aight, I’ll give.” She throws her hands up in surrender, making her way over to join Porrim at her vanity.
As utterly gorgeous and well-composed Porrim’s person was, her vanity was an absolute pigsty. Not a hint of organization to be found. Just a pile of brushes here, a bunch of pans of makeup there, and all sorts of spray bottles pressed against the mirror. The only thing that could be considered clean is the mirror’s surface, and even that was covered with inspirational messages written in lipstick, and printed pictures shoved into the perimeter. Porrim got up from her seat, turning her seat to the side, and gesturing for Latula to sit down. As she sat down, Porrim looked through her brushes and grabbed the few that were actually clean. Latula's eyes wandered around her room as Porrim grabbed the things that she needed. God knows it would take awhile to find what she needed in the mess she made.
Latula eyes glazed over to the photos along the edge of the mirror. A majority of them were either of her family or her and mutual friends. Such a nostalgia trip. One was from Kankri’s 13th birthday. Gosh, he looked so annoyed with her, the poor baby. It was so cute. Sure wish he could have stayed that way. Another picture was from when the two of them were counselors for some Summer Camp. What a wild summer that was.
It was the summer before they entered their senior year, and god the two of them were ready to wretch their shit up. It was the last summer they were certain to be able to spend time together, so obviously they had to make the most of it. First thing they did was get a job at the same sleepaway camp, and what a ride that was. The kids acted like goblins, of course, but what else could they have expected of kids that were no more than 10. The kids had an early curfew, but the counselor sure as hell didn’t. Countless nights of debauchery ensued.
Somehow, local fuckboy Cronus Ampora managed to sneak in a few bottles from his father's stash, and Meulin never disappointed with her somehow copious amounts of weed. Normally, Latula didn’t touch the stuff. After all, what were all those hours of PSA’s and D.A.R.E posters for? Alas, Latula was only human, and damn the temptation was there. It was only one time, so it couldn’t hurt that bad, could it?
Well, she couldn’t down a single drop of booze, so she didn’t have to worry about getting wasted, so that was a relief. She’d just stick with an easy joint, thank you very much. She couldn’t say the same for Porrim, though. Porrim was getting Fancy Drunk off of a bottle of wine. They both had their vices.
Porrim always described that night as one big blur, but not Latula. She may have been high, but she could remember that evening with her as clear as day. Porrim hung her head off the side of the bed, her hair touching the cold wooden floor. She giggled for no particular reason and played with the thin strap of her tank top. Whenever Latula glanced at her, her eyes were fixed on her, looking her up and down. The look in her eyes had a familiar kindness but there was something else behind it, something dreamy and warm.
She recalled how her heart raced when Porrim sat back up and placed the bottle onto the floor. She smiled and called out her name in a slow, slurred tone, her hand beckoning her to come closer. She made her way over to her bed, crossing her legs. No words were exchanged when Porrim reached over to hold her face in her hands, her thumbs caressed her cheeks. Latula held her breath, expecting her to say something, anything at all to break the tension. She fully expected her to laugh it off, and back away, or for her to blame her lack of personal space to the alcohol. But then Porrim smiled and tilted her head, leaning in to press her lips against hers.
The whole night felt like a dream, one she never wanted to wake from. She tasted Porrim’s mint lip balm, and the alcohol still on her lips. It was a horrible taste, but she didn’t want to pull away, not even for a moment. She wanted to cling onto this moment forever, to feel Porrim’s body press against her, her hands tangling into her soft, voluminous hair. She wanted to be selfish, she wanted Porrim all to herself.
After that, Latula had fully lost track of time. At some point, Porrim had fallen asleep, lying beside her. She has her arms weakly wrapped around, Latula watching her chest rise and fall. Eventually, Latula pulled herself away to sleep on her own bed and watched her from a safer distance now. Even with all of her blanket, she missed the warmth Porrim had about her.
In the morning, Porrim couldn’t remember a single thing from the night before, nor was she in the mood to talk. She never pressed her to remember, and the day went on like any other before. She was left with an even deeper sense of heartache than before. She had gotten a taste of the sweetest and most succulent of ambrosia that was Porrim Maryam and now would never get to relive that moment again.
Her train of thought was interrupted by Porrim’s fingers running through her hair, her long, perfectly manicured nails scratching her scalp. Every sour recollection seemed to drift away. She shut her eyes and a content smile grew on her face. Porrim was a master at getting her to relax like no other person was.
Porrim smiles down when she lets out a sigh. She slides her hands down to her shoulders and gives them a squeeze as she bends down to sit her face next to hers.
“So my lovely, oh-so-special blank canvas, Now that I got my hands on you, what do you wish for me to do? I wouldn’t advise not giving me a clear answer. That would give full reign of your face, and you’d be completely at the mercy of my creative vision. Who knows what I have cooked up.” Porrim teased, causing the other to roll her eyes.
“I really don’t know what you think I’m gonna say here. I think I’m better off with whateva you want to do to me. I don’t want natural makeup, obvs, but I feel like I’ll just say some wack shit that’ll fuck my face up real bad. My life is in your hands, Por-Por.” She takes off her glasses and puts them into her lap, squinting to view herself in the mirror. A useless endeavor. Blind as a bat.
Porrim nodded her head and walked over to grab over her brow pencil to begin brushing and filling in her brow. She was so tall that she had to bend down to
reach her face properly. Her face was unbelievably close to hers, Latula felt the need to hold her breath whenever Porrim bent down to her level. She could feel her face get red, her shoulders tensing.
“Goodness, It’s just a brush. I’m not going to poke your eye out, darling.” Porrim whispers as she puts her brow brush away. “If it makes you feel better, you won’t have to sit still for very long. I’m definitely not going to bother with foundation on you since…” She gestures towards her face. Latula snorts a bit. Yeah, it was as clear as day.
“Yeah, kinda figured I wouldn’t get the full-full glam moment. My pasty ass don’t belong anywhere near your shit. I’m having a good skin day, anyway”
That earned a chuckle out of her. “Oh, indeed you are. Baby soft, light, and perfect. It just means that I can really focus on your eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul and whatnot…” Porrim grabbed a spot of concealer and patted that into her lids with a brush. After blending, she dipped into a teal, pressing it onto her lids.
Not having to figure out where to fixate her gaze made it leagues easier to actually sit down and relax. It was a tad unpleasant to feel bristles hit against her eyelid, but she grew accustomed to it soon enough. She focused on her breathing as Porrim posed and primed her to perfection.
She fully expected Porrim to try and fill the silence with some sort of idle chatter. Maybe something about if she was caught up with her work, maybe even how well her transition was going. She also figured that Porrim would be itching to talk about her process. Even if the conversation felt one-sided, she still enjoyed it when Porrim would prattle on about whatever she happened to listen in on.
Yet she didn’t utter a word. The most she would do is tell her to open her eyes, look down, or tilt her head to the side. It wasn’t often Porrim zeroed in on a task like this. Porrim was really taking her time with her. The thought of it got her heart pounding again. The hands in her laps curled into fists, her taking a deep breath as Porrim pulled away to switch brushes again.
And then she spoke up.
“So, are you seeing anyone currently? You’ve been rather radio silent on the topic of romance, and you know that I can’t stand not hearing about the horndogs that thirst over you.” She taps her brush on her palette before pressing it into her crease.
Latula’s hands fidget as she struggles to think of an answer that will satisfy Porrim and her insatiable need for useless gossip. “Oh, absolutely not. All of the douches I get in my dms are all so samey. ‘I’m a nice guy, show me your tits’ or some bull like that. No point telling you about every creep if they boil down to being the same story. If I’m gonna text ya about it, it's gotta be juicy. Like real nasty like, ya know?”
“Mmm, I suppose you’re right. I just figured you’d send one of them some snarky comeback and send me one that you’re particularly proud of. That, and I figured you would have found some cute enough person by now, you know?” Porrim’s brush strokes slow. Latula could tell she was losing focus
“Heh, you and me both, huh? I guess I just haven’t been actively looking. Not like I don’t like somebody but uh… ya know?”
That managed to get her to stop completely, and Latula knew damn well it was a mistake to pique her interest like that.
“Oh? You like someone? Well, that’s a shock! Here I was convinced no one was good enough for you, which nobody really is, in my humble opinion. Dare I ask why you haven’t gone for them?”
Latula winced and slumped back into her seat, crossing her arms. She couldn’t wiggle her way out of this now. It seems like she has to mutter out a confession eventually. “It’s kinda stupid but I was kinda betting on them askin’ me out? Like I know that’s mega lame and stupid, but certainly don’t have the gall to ask them out. I mean, I don’t know if she’s even interested anymore.” She. She said she. Well, so much for trying to keep it vague.
Porrim perks up at that. For a split moment, she could see the corner of her lip curl up. It was brief, but she caught it. “Anymore? Have you had some sort of encounter with her before?”
Latula’s nose scrunches up. ”That’s one word for it. Would it even count if she was drunk for it all? I mean, granted I wasn't sober either but… gah, it feels like it don't count! It’s stupid. I don’t know why I’m still even thinkin’ about it anymore. If somethin’ was gonna happen, it would have happened by now.” She huffed and looked away from Porrim, her lips pursed in a straight line.
Porrim blinks, her smile fading the more information was relayed her way. The way she spoke about it was far too specific, far too familiar for her not to piece together.
The silence between them was absolutely deafening, painfu even. Neither of them wanted to speak up, fearing they may incidentally cut the other off. Porrim’s hands rub her arms as Latula’s fingers tap against hers. It was evident that both of them had put all the pieces together, fully comprehending the gravity of the situation.
Porrim cleared her throat, being the one to finally break the silence. She leans against her vanity, her hands clasping together. “I suppose you have a point, being so worried about whether or not the whole thing felt genuine, especially since alcohol was involved. It’s already hard to tell when you’re an adult, and I doubt it’s easier with a stupid teenager. Hypothetically speaking of course. Just an example.”
Latula looks back at her, her expression softening. Her body relaxed, sitting up in her chair. She keeps her mouth shut, listening intently to what she has to say.
“I just know… sometimes the things that come out when you’re intoxicated sometimes stem from a place of truth, as embarrassing as it may be. It may not have been the best circumstances, but I doubt I would have done it without a little ‘assistance’.” Porrim pauses and lets out a groan. She rubs her temples, letting out a pained chuckle. “God, Can we stop pretending this conversation isn’t about us? It is so ridiculous talking about teenage me like she is some sort of completely different entity in her entirety.”
Latula snorts, pushing back her hair from her face. “Yeah, alright, fair enough. It was just the only way I was able to get that shit out there. I wasn’t ‘bout to be straight up like ‘Damn Por, why the fuck am I still in love with you after like fucking 5 years? Could you just accept me or reject me so I can finally get some closure? Thanks, babe!”
Porrim covers half of her face and shakes her head.“5 years? Sweet lord, the both of us really are absolutely useless, aren’t we? Ugh, thinking about how long it’s been is really making me regret all those times I droned on and on about fucking Cronus and Rufioh and Aranea and… well, you know by now.”
“Oh yeah, I know aaaall too well Por, no need to remind me about how dead inside I felt when you talked about your now ex’s in any sort of capacity. But I sat through it all because that’s what besties do. Had to do my part and be all supportive, even if someone the people you dated were… Fucking assholes.”
“How either of us sat through it all, I haven’t the slightest clue. You are a trooper, Tulip, no doubt about it.” Porrim sighs and pulls away from her vanity. She reaches for her glasses and walks over to put them on her herself. “I… I wasn’t done with the look, but I think now is a decent stopping point for now. I don’t think I could focus on finishing it after, well, everything.” Porrim walked behind her, resting her hands on her shoulders as she looked at Latula admire herself in the mirror.
“I dunno Por! I think I like this sorta half-finished look! It looks like something I would do on myself, ya know? I think you really nailed my style down to a tee! Look at that, no fancy-ass cut crease, no nothin.’ Just red and teal slapped on the bitch. I can dig it, yeah!” Latula joked as she looked up at Porrim, one of her hands reaching up to touch hers. Porrim’s hands were so warm, and comforting. It felt even better to see her grin not just with her mouth, but with the small crease under her eyes.
“Yeah. I think I can dig your look too, Tulip.”