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Bobby leaned over Seiji’s forehead, tweezers in hand. “You just want me to…”
“Pluck my eyebrows,” Seiji confirmed from where he was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. “My regular guy canceled due to food poisoning.”
Bobby clicked the tweezers anxiously. “They—they can’t just reschedule?”
“I have my date with Nicholas tonight.”
“And you—you waited until the last minute?”
“It’s the only appointment they had available.” He closed his eyes, waiting for Bobby to cross the bridge past his apprehension.
“I—I don’t think Nicholas will mind. That is, I think they look good right now—”
“Bobby,” Seiji warned, his voice hard. He hadn’t realized it until Bobby yelped, then he backed off. “Please pluck my eyebrows.”
Wordlessly, Bobby shadowed over him and began at the sides.
It was slower than normal, but Seiji supposed that the person who normally did it was a professional and Bobby only did things like this for fun. And besides, he could feel how gentle Bobby was being, and his technique was actually incredible. Easy, with a careful attention to detail.
Once finishing the left eyebrow, Bobby moved onto the right. “For what it’s worth,” —he didn’t exactly speak in stutters, but his voice was shaky— “I don’t think Nicholas would mind if your eyebrows weren’t perfect.”
“I want them to be perfect,” Seiji said quickly. And then, because he was feeling particularly nervous and his mind was pacing, he continued, “Nicholas is very attractive, seemingly without effort.”
Halfway through his eyebrow, the plucking stopped. “Are you… nervous?”
“Of course I’m nervous.”
Bobby snorted, then cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry for that. But I don’t think you have to be worried about—about being attractive enough. For him.”
“Why? What has he said to you?”
“Nothing, but, Seiji. You’ve very handsome. Surely you must know that.”
Safe in the knowledge that Bobby had taken an official break from his eyebrows, he shifted on the bed, moving his shoulders around to get comfortable. “I’ve heard it before.”
“Besides, it’s not effortless for Nicholas. Where do you think he is right now?”
“I did not think about it.”
“He’s with Eugene, panicking about what to wear.”
For some reason, Seiji hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. “Oh.” It was a bit comforting to know that Nicholas was just as nervous as he was. “I apologize for snapping at your earlier, Bobby. I know you are just trying to help.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” Bobby cleared his throat, then coughed. “Do you know what you’ll be wearing?”
“I was just going to wear one of my dress shirts.”
A moment passed. Bobby said nothing.
“What?” Seiji pressed.
“Nothing. I just—I think Nicholas is going for something very different from that.”
Another moment passed.
“I can help you,” Bobby offered. “If you want.”
Seiji sighed. “Don’t bother. I don’t have much variety in my closet.”
Bobby hummed. “Well, I don’t think any of my clothes would fit you, but maybe Dante would be willing to help.”
“Really? That would be very nice of you.”
“Yeah, totally. We can go look.”
Seiji stilled. “Uh, Bobby?”
“Yep?”
“Can you finish my eyebrows first?”
Back in Bobby and Dante’s dorm, Seiji sat awkwardly on Bobby’s bed while he rummaged through their closet.
“Where are you going tonight?” Bobby asked.
“Dinner and a movie.”
“What type of food?”
“From my research, I discovered a pop-up restaurant that specializes in international pastas.”
“Oh, that sounds fun!” He sang, scraping hangers across the hooks. Seiji didn’t have a good view of the closet and couldn’t really see what his options were; he was trusting Bobby to pick out something nice. “Are you open to something fun? Because Dante has this.”
And then Bobby pulled at the most atrocious shirt Seiji had ever seen.
Six buttons down, navy blue base, with several small vector designs of various pastas scattered around it.
“No,” Seiji refused.
“It will look good on you!”
“No.”
“It fits the theme.”
“No.”
“Nicholas will like it…”
Seiji sucked in his cheeks and stood. “Okay, let me take a closer look.”
Bobby handed the shirt off to him. It was a nice fabric, very fine. Cuffed short sleeves, decorated with three-tone elbow and bowtie noodles. The buttons were a hideous shade of brown, but beside the pasta, it worked, in a very nontraditional way.
“Can you explain to me why Nicholas would like this?”
“It’s goofy,” Bobby said, “and casual. He prefers when things are more low-key.”
Seiji stared at the shirt in his hands. “Yes, you may be right.”
“But we won’t know for sure until you try it on!”
Seiji could admit, begrudgingly, that the hideous pasta shirt had been a success.
With Bobby’s help, he’d paired it with a more stylish pair of pants, tucking it in and accenting it with a belt. Bobby had tried to get a fun belt—one he had, with sequins and silver—but Seiji had committed to pushing back. The shirt was enough. He could wear a normal belt.
He styled his hair the normal way, but then Bobby decided to step in there, too.
“I know how to do my hair,” Seiji grumbled.
Bobby rolled his eyes, armed with a brush and hairdryer. “Let me have at it.”
“It looks like it always does.”
“Yeah, but, trust me.”
And Seiji decided, in this instance, to trust him.
The heat of the hairdryer permeated his skin, and Bobby was careful with the brush, wielding it with deliberate flicks of the wrist like it was an épée. He barely felt a pull at all—and the end results were clear.
Seiji tipped his jaw back and forth, admiring the changes Bobby had made in the mirror. It was no longer in his standard style, but it wasn’t very different. A lock had been deliberately curled over to frame his forehead on the side, partially obstructing his ear. It was fluffier, with more volume, and while it still held solidly in place, it bounced slightly every time he moved.
“It looks good,” he admitted.
“And Nicholas will love it,” Bobby stated matter-of-factly, with one finger up to enunciate his point. “Especially when you kiss him.”
Seiji sputtered. “When I—”
“Speaking of kissing, let me get my eyeliner pencil.”
“What does eyeliner have to do with kissing?”
Bobby was putting the fine touches on a thin outline across Seiji’s upper lids when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in!” Bobby called, leaning back and capping the eyeliner.
Eugene stepped in first, followed by Nicholas, and for a moment, Seiji forgot how to breathe.
Nicholas had on his usual jacket—the one that Seiji always found himself wanting to grab onto—but beneath it was a knit jumper hanging loosely over blue jeans. It looked soft enough that Seiji could almost feel it from the other side of the room.
Taming his hair had clearly been attempted, for it was a bit more directed than normal, but it was not any less messy. Seiji wanted to mess it up again, ruffling it with his fingers, see how soft it really was.
“Hi,” Nicholas said.
Seiji felt like his face was on fire. “Hi.”
Eugene pushed Nicholas towards Seiji; he stumbled only readjusting himself halfway across the room. “Go, dude.”
“Uh.” Seiji wasn’t sure what the proper first step was, but then Bobby was pushing at his back, too—pushing him right into Nicholas.
They met with their shoulders clashing together. Seiji made a noise of surprise, but Nicholas’s hand on his forearm steadied him.
“Come on,” Nicholas said, looking appreciatively over Seiji’s shirt. “Since you’re clearly excited for the pasta.”
Yes, his face was certainly an inferno. He hadn’t realized it was possible for it to be that hot. “I am. Excited.” Oh, no, what was happening to his grasp on sentence structure? “Excited to eat pasta.” Oh, no. “Among other things.” Oh, why was he so nervous?
Nicholas chuckled at him. “Shall we go, then?”
“Yes, let’s.”
As they walked out the room, Eugene and Bobby couldn’t help but keep their comments to themselves.
“Be safe!” Bobby called.
“Have him home by nine, Seiji,” Eugene said.
“Call us if you need anything.”
“What are you, my parents?” Nicholas laughed, holding the door open for Seiji to walk through. “We’ll be home before curfew, not that it should matter to you.”
Bobby pointed a severe finger at them. “I expect updates.”
“Right. Sure. I’ll do that.”
“Text me when you get there.”
He laughed again. “Maybe.”
And then the door shut, and it was the two of them alone in the dorm hall.
Seiji still felt like his face was melting. He’d never felt so awkward and self-conscious in his entire life. “So…”
“I do really like that shirt,” he said appreciatively.
“Oh. Thanks.”
Nicholas held out his hand.
For a beat, Seiji stared at it, trying to figure out if there was something he was missing. But then he realized: this is a date. With great hesitance, Seiji reached across to take it in his own.
Nicholas’s smile was small. Cute. Color reflected high on his cheeks, although Seiji was sure that his was much more obvious. “Ready?”
Seiji squeezed their entangled hands. “Let’s go.”