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Rodion had a habit of waking up ten minutes earlier than everyone else, but not because she was responsible or disciplined. Nothing of sorts. If she could, she would sleep as much as she could, but at the same time, she liked having those few quiet moments to make herself look… well, presentable.
She didn’t do much. Nothing fancy or heavy. Just a dab of concealer under the eyes, a swipe of color on the lips, maybe a bit of blush if she felt pale that morning. Enough to feel like she was putting the version of herself she liked most into the world.
It was just a tiny, little ritual that made her feel more like herself.
She’d lean toward the scratched window, angling her compact mirror so the natural light hit just right, brushing a fingertip over her cheek to blend a stubborn line. Some days she skipped it entirely when she was too tired, too miserable, too… whatever, but most days she tried. A little effort to feel cute, or confident, or simply… like Rodya!
And lately, she’d noticed something… A pair of eyes always watching her.
Not in a creepy way, of course!
Don Quixote sat across from her almost every morning, elbows on her knees, chin propped on her hands, gazing at Rodion’s little makeup routine as though witnessing something absolutely exciting. Total fascination. Rodion pretended not to notice at first, but the longer it went on, the more she could feel that warm stare lingering on her figure whenever she was fixing her little makeup.
It was cute, very much so. And it made Rodion want to smile at her reflection.
She hadn’t asked her about it, of course. Not until the day she caught Don Quixote practically leaning out of her seat trying to get a better view of Rodion’s mascara.
That was the moment Rodya snapped her compact shut and tilted her head with a grin.
“Chiquita~ would you like to try it sometime?”
And Don’s face had gone bright red. Almost the perfect shade of blush.
And… that's how they ended up here.
Don Quixote sat with her back perfectly straight, as though she were in the middle of a battlefield instead of squeezed onto a rickety bus seat with Rodion’s thigh pressed against her own. Her hands were planted firmly on her knees. Her expression was one of complete, unwavering determination… which would’ve been great if Rodion were preparing her for combat or something, but she was simply… trying to put some makeup on her.
“Sweetheart, you need to stop blinking,” Rodion sighed with a soft laugh, steadying her wrist as another wild flutter of lashes nearly jabbed her brush.
“I-I assure thee, Rodion, these movements are not by mine own will!” the blondie proclaimed, eyes watering dramatically as she attempted to hold them open. “Thine arcane tool tickleth me greatly!!”
Rodya dipped her brush back into the soft peach shade, pausing for a moment to just look at Quixote. The girl was rigid with concentration, jaw clenched, shoulders high, every muscle primed for battle. It would’ve been intimidating if she weren’t seconds away from flinching like a startled kitten.
“Okay,” she said gently, fingers lifting Don’s chin, “close your eyes. Gently~”
She snapped her eyes shut.
“Girl…,” Rodion said flatly.
“Yes??”
“That wasn't very gentle!”
So she tried again, this time squeezing only half as hard. Rodion sighed in relief.
“Good. Much better!”
She leaned in, the tip of her nose almost brushing Don’s cheek. The closeness made Don Quixote tense up again, heat blooming under Rodion’s fingertips. Her skin grew warm wherever Rodion touched for no particular reason.
“Relax,” Rodion murmured, brushing the shimmer over her eyelid. “I promise ya, this part doesn’t hurt.”
The brush glided over the delicate skin, leaving a soft sheen. Rodya watched her face carefully, her tiny twitches, her determined little frown, the way she leaned ever so slightly into Rodion’s hand without realizing it. Rodya had… honestly never seen her so still like this. Soo, so still, she really wanted to get this right for Rodion, huh?
That thought made her chest warm up a bit.
Ah, damn! How could someone be this cute?!
“Alrighty~,” Ryodya said proudly, pulling back slightly. “Open up!”
Don Quixote obeyed, blinking slowly. The peach shimmer caught the slant of morning light from the bus window, making her eyes look brighter and even more softer. Rodya let out a gasp, covering her mouth with a palm of her hand.
“W-was that gasp of dismay?” Quixote asked, panicked. “Hath I failed thine cosmetic trial?”
Rodion laughed before she could stop herself. “Noo… you look cute!”
Don Quixote straightened, proud yet flustered. “T-then proceed! I am ready for the next trial!”
“Huuh~,” Rodya hummed with a smile, reaching for a small eyeliner pencil. “This one can be a lil’ tricky…”
The girl in front of her immediately moved, by tightening every muscle in her body. But when Rodya guided Don’s chin again, thumb sweeping gently over her skin, Don Quixote instantly melted into the same stillness as before. Rodion leaned in close, sketching a delicate line at the outer corner of her eye, extending it barely upward.
“Rodion…”
“Mhm?”
“If I perish, let it be known… I regret nothing of this.”
“Aww. You’re not gonna die, Chiquita.”
“Verily, my fate rests in thy hands…”
She didn't know why exactly, but having the little Donqui let her be this close, trusting her this much… it made her heart flutter embarrassingly hard. The mascara came after this, but it took almost no time. A few careful sweeps, a soft blink, and it was done.
Rodya leaned back a little to admire her work.
If she was to describe what she was seeing, the most… hmm… optimal description would be that Don Quixote was glowing like a star. Wide-eyed, flushed, sparkling like she’d been sculpted from sunrise.
“…Am I… pleasing to behold?” she whispered with a little smile.
Rodion felt warmth rush through her so, so fast, she let out a little, happy sigh.
“Mm~,” she mumbled quietly, sincerely, “…you really are.”