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The United Nations building had a way of making every countryhuman look more tired than they were willing to admit
It was not only the meetings, though the meetings were enough to hollow out a person. It was the lights that never softened, the carpets that swallowed footsteps until everyone moved like a secret, the polished tables that reflected nothing kindly, and the press waiting outside every official doorway with microphones held like fishing hooks
South Korea had sat through six hours of negotiations with his spine straight, his gloves smooth over his fingers, and his face arranged into the kind of calm expression that made cameras behave.
He had nodded when he was meant to nod. He had spoken when his delegation slid the folder toward him. He had smiled once, briefly, when Australia leaned over during a recess and murmured something about one of the microphones picking up someone’s stomach growling
That smile had cost him effort.
By the time the meeting finally ended, the room loosened in layers. Chairs scraped back. Interpreters removed headsets. Assistants rushed forward with phones and tablets. The air filled with the soft thunder of expensive shoes and political exhaustion.
South Korea stood, tugged lightly at the cuffs of his gloves, and checked the time.
Australia was supposed to meet him by the side exit.
Australia was not by the side exit.
Instead, Australia was halfway down the corridor, one hand raised in that helpless, friendly way of his, trying to create a human wall between Canada and a small cluster of reporters who had somehow broken past the first staff line.
Canada looked as though he wanted the marble floor to open and accept him kindly.
“Canada, is it true you and the Netherlands-” “Were you seen together after the reception-” “Does this affect future diplomatic cooperation-”
Australia gave South Korea one apologetic look from across the corridor
South Korea read it easily. Five minutes
He lifted one gloved hand in return.Fine.
It was not ‘fine’ , exactly, but it was manageable. South Korea knew how to be patient in public . He knew how to stand without looking lost, how to wait without appearing abandoned, how to make idleness look like intention
Still, the corridor was too bright . Too full of moving shoulders, perfume, camera flashes, and glances that landed a little too long on his face
His makeup had survived the meeting, but only barely. The foundation near his nose had creased from the hours of expression control. His lip tint had faded unevenly. The sharpness beneath his eyes needed softening.
He turned toward the bathroom before anyone could ask him anything.
The United Nations bathroom was, annoyingly, better lit than most hotel vanities.
South Korea noticed that first.
The mirrors were wide and spotless, the counters pale stone, the sinks lined in a row like they belonged in an airport for ghosts. The overhead lights were bright without being cruel, white without turning skin grey. Whoever had designed it had accidentally created the perfect place for touch ups between diplomatic disasters.
South Korea set his makeup pouch beside the sink and exhaled through his nose.
The sound bounced faintly off the tiles.
For a few seconds, there was only the water running from one automatic tap, then stopping by itself.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
The face looking back was familiar because he had paid professionals to make it familiar in the correct way. Neat jawline. Softened eyes. Nose highlighted just enough. Skin smooth under careful product. The kind of face that appeared effortless only because effort had been buried beneath appointments, recovery time, consultations, and money.
He tilted his chin.
The angle caught the faint shadow under his cheekbone.
Not bad.
Not perfect.
He unzipped the pouch.
Behind him, a stall lock clicked.
South Korea’s fingers paused.
The door opened slowly.
North Korea stepped out.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
North Korea looked thinner under UN lighting. Not weak, exactly. He had never looked weak, not even when he was quiet enough to vanish into the edges of a room. But there was a narrowness to him, a hard- drawn quality, as though his body had learned to save space by folding hunger and suspicion into the bones.
His suit was dark, stiff at the shoulders, too plain to be fashionable and too carefully worn to be careless. His hair sat flat from being combed into obedience earlier that morning, though a few strands had escaped near his temple. His face carried its usual expression: closed mouth, unreadable eyes, the slight downturn that made him look permanently irritated even when he was only thinking.
Then South Korea noticed the sleeves.
North Korea had rolled one of them above his elbow, probably to wash his hands.
The scars began at his fingers.
They did not sit politely on the surface. They rose in thick, layered tracks over the backs of his hands and climbed past his wrist, up his forearm, over the bend of his elbow. Some parts shone tight and pale. Others looked darker, ridged, uneven beneath the light. Even where the fabric covered him again, the scars had not ended. They disappeared under the shirt like roots going underground.
South Korea looked away before the glance became staring.
North Korea noticed anyway.
Of course he did.
His hand moved once, almost toward his sleeve, before stopping. He walked to the sink two basins away and pressed the tap on harder than necessary.
Water struck porcelain.
South Korea picked up his cushion foundation and opened it with a soft click.
For a while, they performed ignoring each other.
North Korea washed his hands carefully. Too carefully. He rubbed between his fingers, over the scarred knuckles, around the wrists, slow and mechanical. South Korea dabbed foundation around his nose and blended it with practiced motions, keeping his gaze on his own reflection.
The mirror betrayed them both.
North Korea’s eyes flicked toward the makeup pouch.
Once.
Twice
On the third time, South Korea lowered the puff as he bite back a hiss in his voice
“Do you need something?”
North Korea’s gaze snapped back to the sink.
“No.”
South Korea waited.
North Korea shut the tap. The water stopped with a small, final sound.
He reached for a paper towel, dried his hands, then kept holding the towel even after there was no water left on his skin.
South Korea went back to blending.
North Korea looked again.
South Korea sighed, not loudly, but enough.
“What?”
North Korea’s mouth tightened “Why do you have so many?”
South Korea glanced down at the pouch “So many what?”
North Korea nodded at the open bag as though it might bite him “Those.”
“Makeup?”
North Korea did not answer immediately. He looked at the cushion compact, the concealer tube, the small contour palette, the lip tints lined in elastic loops. His expression was not disgusted. That was the strange part. It was not even judgemental in the usual blunt way.
It was confused.
Almost suspiciously confused
“You wear that?” he asked
South Korea blinked once
Then again
He looked at his own reflection, then at North Korea through the mirror. His face was fully made up. His lashes were darkened. His lips were tinted. His skin had the soft, polished finish of someone who had spent twenty minutes making sure cameras could not punish him.
“Yes” he said slowly “Obviously.”
North Korea’s brows drew together “Every day?”
“Most days.”
“For meetings?”
“For meetings. For cameras. For myself. For not looking dead after listening to speeches for six hours.”
North Korea stared at the pouch again.
South Korea studied him more carefully now.
There it was- not disgust. Not mockery. Something closer to trying to solve an unfamiliar object.
“You’ve never seen men wear makeup?”
North Korea’s fingers tightened around the paper towel. “Actors. Performers. Some officials on television, maybe. But not…” His eyes flicked over South Korea’s face with an awkwardness that was almost careful “Like that.”
South Korea leaned one hip lightly against the counter. “Like what?”
North Korea looked trapped by the question.
South Korea almost smiled.
Almost
North Korea threw the paper towel away “It is strange.”
The almostsmile died
South Korea’s gloved fingers rested on the counter, still and precise “Strange how?”
North Korea seemed to hear the edge in his voice. His shoulders shifted, not quite defensive, not quite retreating
“In my country, makeup is…” He stopped, choosing the word with visible irritation , as though the language itself was inconvenient “Controlled. Modest. For women, mostly. Local brands. Nothing too…” His hand made a vague gesture, searching. “Western. Heavy. Loud.”
South Korea’s expression changed before he could stop it
North Korea saw that too
“I did not say it was bad” he added stiffly.
South Korea looked down at his pouch
There were expensive things in it. Western brands, Korean brands, one Japanese eyeliner he pretended not to favour, a French lip product he had bought because the colour looked like crushed rose petals under warm light. Small luxuries. Small weapons. Small comforts
He thought of North Korea staring at them like a person looking through a shop window from outside in the rain
Something in his annoyance loosened, though not enough to become kindness. Not yet.
“You’re staring because you’re curious”
North Korea’s jaw moved
“No.”
“You are”
“I was looking”
“That’s staring with better public relations.”
North Korea’s eyes narrowed
South Korea lifted the cushion compact “Do you want to try?”
The bathroom went quiet
Even the ventilation seemed to hush
North Korea looked at him as though South Korea had suggested committing treason in front of the sinks
“What?”
“Makeup,” South Korea said “Do you want to try some?”
“No”
The answer came too fast
South Korea tilted his head “You didn’t even think about it.”
“I do not need to think.”
“You were staring.”
“I was looking.”
“With your whole face.”
North Korea’s expression sharpened, but beneath it there was something else now. A flicker. Interest trying to hide behind insult
South Korea picked up a small mirror from his pouch and turned it between his fingers “I’m not going to make you look ridiculous.”
“I did not say that”
“You thought it loudly”
North Korea looked toward the door
No one entered
Outside, the United Nations continued eating people alive with diplomacy and cameras. Inside, two countries who had spent decades learning how not to look at each other stood under bathroom lights beside a row of sinks
South Korea softened his voice, but only a little
“It washes off”
North Korea looked back
South Korea added “And the lighting here is surprisingly good.”
That, for some reason, made North Korea glance upward
The lights shone cleanly over his face
South Korea saw what the usual severity hid. North Korea’s eyes were not naturally cruel. They were dark and slightly rounder than his resting expression allowed. His mouth, when not pressed into a line, had a softness at the edges. The scars along one cheek dragged the shape of his face into something harsher, and his flat hair did him no favours, but the bones beneath were delicate in places no one would notice because they were too busy being afraid of him
South Korea reached for the concealer
North Korea watched the movement
“You would put it over…” He stopped
South Korea followed his glance
The scars
“No” South Korea said as if a s
North Korea’s fingers curled
“I can work around them” South Korea continued “Or soften the redness if you want. But I’m not going to erase them unless you ask me to”
North Korea looked at him sharply then
For the first time, the confusion became something quieter
South Korea held his gaze for half a second before it became uncomfortable. He looked back at the products
Eye contact was easier in mirrors and impossible in real life. People thought high functioning meant the discomfort vanished because one knew how to hide it. They were wrong. It only meant South Korea had learned to schedule his discomfort around public expectations
He tapped the compact “Sit on the counter”
North Korea looked offended “No.”
“Then stand there and suffer. I’m shorter than you in these shoes.”
North Korea did not move.
South Korea waited.
The silence stretched.
Finally, with the stiff reluctance of a man agreeing to a ceasefire he deeply resented, North Korea stepped closer and sat on the edge of the counter between two sinks.
It was awkward. His shoes remained planted on the floor, knees angled slightly apart, hands resting on his thighs. He looked like a statue placed in the wrong museum.
South Korea sanitized his hands, though his gloves remained on, then began arranging products on the counter.
North Korea watched everything.
Every compact opened. Every brush chosen. Every sponge set aside.
“You have done this many times” North Korea said.
“Yes”
“For other people?”
“For myself”
North Korea frowned “You know all of it for yourself?”
South Korea gave him a look. “Do you think makeup appears on my face through national development?”
North Korea did not laugh but his mouth twitched.
It was so small South Korea almost missed it.
Almost.
“First” South Korea said, picking up a small bottle “shade matching”
North Korea’s eyes dropped to the foundation “That is too pale”
“It’s mine. Obviously it’s too pale for you.”
“You are not that pale.”
“You are not helping.”
South Korea opened another sample compact from his pouch. He had a few deeper shades from past shoots, emergency kits, and one unfortunate incident where a stylist had forgotten his undertone and nearly turned him orange on international television. He dotted a tiny amount near North Korea’s jaw.
North Korea went still.
The brush touched skin.
South Korea noticed the stillness immediately.
Not fear exactly. Not flinching. Control.
“Tell me if you want me to stop”’ he said
North Korea’s eyes shifted to the mirror.
“Why?”
“Because I’m touching your face”
North Korea looked back down at the floor “Continue.”
South Korea did
He tested two shades, then blended the better match gently along the unscarred side first. North Korea’s skin was not smooth in the way South Korea’s was smooth after skincare and treatments and money. It had texture, tiredness, faint unevenness around the mouth. The scars complicated the planes of his cheek, but they also caught light in ways South Korea had not expected.
He worked carefully.
Not pityingly.
That mattered.
North Korea’s breathing remained shallow at first. After a few minutes, his shoulders lowered by half an inch.
South Korea pretended not to notice.
“The UN bathrooms are wasted on diplomats” he muttered “This lighting is better than half the green rooms I’ve been in.”
North Korea blinked “Green rooms are not green?”
South Korea paused.
Then he laughed once under his breath.
North Korea’s face tightened “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You are laughing.”
“Because you asked seriously.”
“I do not know why they are called that.”
“That is fair” South Korea admitted, dabbing concealer lightly under one eye “They’re waiting rooms. For performers, interviews, broadcasts. Not usually green.”
“Then why-” “I don’t know.”
North Korea seemed displeased by this failure of terminology.
South Korea moved on before he could demand an investigation.
He used concealer sparingly. Not enough to flatten him. Enough to lift the tired shadows. A touch around the mouth. A little beside the nose. He avoided the heavier scar tissue unless North Korea’s eyes pointed there, and when they did, South Korea asked with a raised brow.
North Korea hesitated, then shook his head.
So South Korea left it.
Foundation came next, light and thin. Then contour, barely there. He softened the harshness around North Korea’s jaw, not to feminize him exactly, but to let the face breathe. A little warmth under the cheekbone. A careful blend near the forehead.
North Korea stared at the mirror like he expected the reflection to betray him.
“You are changing my face” he said.
“I’m changing how the light reads your face.”
“That sounds like lying.”
“All diplomacy is lying with better lighting.”
North Korea looked at him.
South Korea looked back through the mirror.
This time, North Korea’s mouth definitely twitched.
The bathroom door opened.
Both of them froze.
A junior diplomat from some European delegation stepped inside, saw South Korea standing between North Korea’s knees with a makeup brush in hand, saw North Korea seated on the counter with half his face blended and the other half bare, and made the intelligent decision to forget he needed the bathroom.
The door shut again.
Silence returned.
North Korea’s ears had gone faintly red.
South Korea picked up the blush.
“Don’t move.”
“That person saw.”
“Yes.”
“He will say something.”
“Probably not.”
“Why?”
“Because no one wants to explain why they walked into a bathroom and saw North Korea getting his makeup done by South Korea.”
North Korea considered this for longer then needed. Then, very quietly, he said “Fair.”
South Korea did not smile this time, but the corner of his mouth softened.
The blush was delicate, placed high beneath the eyes and swept toward the temples. North Korea frowned as the colour appeared.
“That is too much.”
“It is not.”
“It is red.”
“It’s blush.”
“It looks like fever.”
“You look like fever normally. This looks intentional.”
North Korea stared at him.
South Korea stared back.
Then North Korea lowered his eyes first.
There was something absurdly satisfying about that.
South Korea chose a soft brown liner next.
“Look down.”
North Korea obeyed, too abruptly.
“Not close. Down.”
He adjusted. His lashes cast small shadows against his cheeks.
South Korea leaned closer, careful not to crowd him too much. He drew the puppy liner softly, lowering the outer edge just enough to change the expression. Not dramatic. Not idol stage sharp. Something gentler. Something that made North Korea’s eyes look rounder, less severe.
North Korea’s fingers gripped the counter.
“Still okay?”
“Yes.”
“You’re squeezing the stone like it owes you money.”
North Korea loosened his hands with visible effort.
South Korea continued.
He smudged the liner lightly. Added a small shadow beneath the lower lash line. Highlight near the inner corner, barely enough to catch light. The change was subtle at first, then suddenly not subtle at all.
North Korea looked younger.
Not childish. Not weak.
Just less armoured.
South Korea felt something uncomfortable press behind his ribs.
He ignored it and reached for the lashes.
North Korea noticed immediately.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You agreed to makeup.”
“I did not agree to…” North Korea pointed at them. “Insects…”
“They are eyelashes.”
“They look like legs.”
“They are not alive.”
“That does not help.”
South Korea pinched the lash band with tweezers. “They’re light. You’ll barely feel them.”
North Korea leaned back.
South Korea lowered the tweezers “Fine. We can skip them.”
North Korea narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the easy surrender
South Korea shrugged “Your choice.”
The words sat between them.
‘Your choice’
North Korea looked at the lashes again
Then at himself in the mirror
Then away
His voice came out lower “Would it look better?”
South Korea answered honestly “It would make your eyes softer.”
North Korea swallowed
“Then do it.”
South Korea did not comment.
He trimmed the lashes slightly, applied glue, waited for it to turn tacky, then leaned in again.
North Korea held still with the grim discipline of a soldier under inspection.
The first lash went on
Then the second
South Korea stepped back
North Korea opened his eyes
The effect was immediate and almost unfair
His usual glare had been rerouted into something wide and uncertain. The puppy liner lowered the shape, the lashes softened the edges, and the high blush pulled attention away from the tension in his mouth. His scars remained. His burn marked cheek still caught the light. But now the scars did not define the whole face
They became part of it.
North Korea stared.
South Korea picked up a lip tint before the silence could become too heavy.
“Blurred lips” he said.
North Korea did not answer, mostly because he did not know what his sibling was saying
South Korea dabbed muted rose brown onto the center of his mouth and blended it outward with a cotton bud. North Korea’s lips parted slightly, then closed again.
“Don’t press them together.”
North Korea froze.
“You were about to.”
“I was not.”
“You were.”
North Korea looked offended enough to be caught.
South Korea finished blending.
The lip colour softened his mouth without making it glossy. A little colour at the center. Edges diffused. The kind of effect that made someone look like they had not tried and had somehow woken up tragic and pretty.
South Korea hated that it worked so well
He turned to the hair last
North Korea’s hair was a disaster of obedience. Too flat, too severe, too determined to prove
too much about function.
South Korea set down the lip tint and reached into the side pocket of his makeup pouch for a travel sized hair tool.
North Korea stared at it.
South Korea sighed “It is not a weapon”
“It is hot.”
“It will be warm.”
“That is what hot things say before burning people.”
South Korea’s hand paused.
For half a second, the joke broke strangely against the bathroom tiles.
North Korea seemed to realize what he had said only after saying it. His mouth shut, and his eyes moved away from the mirror, toward the line of sinks, toward anything that did not require looking at the scars climbing his own arm.
South Korea did not apologize for laughing, because he had not laughed. He did not soften the moment by saying something useless. Instead, he unplugged the hair tool before it had fully heated and set it aside.
“Then no heat” he said.
North Korea looked at him from beneath the new lashes.
South Korea took out a small comb, a styling balm, and a spray bottle no larger than his palm. He misted his own gloved fingers first, checking the amount, then touched North Korea’s hair.
North Korea’s shoulders lifted.
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You look like you are waiting to be arrested.”
“That is also relaxed.”
South Korea combed through the front pieces gently, loosening the strict part and letting the escaped strands become intentional. North Korea’s hair was softer than it looked, too fine in some places and stubborn in others, resisting the shape for a few seconds before accepting it. South Korea worked in small sections, dampening, twisting, releasing. Light curls formed near the temples and over the forehead, not dramatic, only enough to stop his face from looking carved out of a government photograph
The more South Korea touched, the less North Korea looked like a man built entirely out of warnings.
He still sat stiffly on the counter. His hands still rested with deliberate care on his thighs. His scarred arm remained exposed past the elbow, the thick marks disappearing under his rolled sleeve. But the shape of him had changed. Not erased. Not corrected. Simply translated into softer lighting.
South Korea stepped back
North Korea kept staring at the mirror
For several seconds, there was no sound except the faint hum of the ventilation and distant movement beyond the bathroom door.
Then North Korea lifted one hand, stopped before touching his face, and lowered it again.
“That is me?” he asked.
South Korea looked at him through the mirror.
“Yes.”
North Korea’s brows drew together, but the expression did not sharpen the way it usually did. With the liner and lashes, confusion finally appeared as confusion. Not anger. Not contempt. Just a man failing to understand his own reflection.
South Korea’s throat tightened in a way he refused to name
“You look less like you want to fight the sink” he said.
North Korea blinked.
Then, very carefully, he leaned closer to the mirror.
The blush sat high on his cheeks, lifting the tiredness away from his eyes. The blurred lip tint softened the stern press of his mouth. The curls made him look almost unfinished, as though someone had caught him before he remembered to become severe.
His scars were still there.
They had not become beautiful in the cheap way people said scars were beautiful when they did not have to wear them. They were still thick, layered, uneven things. They still pulled at the skin. They still carried history in a language neither of them wanted to speak aloud.
But they were no longer the only thing on his face.
North Korea stared at that the longest.
South Korea began closing the products one by one, giving him the privacy of pretending not to watch.
The cushion compact clicked shut.
The contour palette snapped closed.
The eyeliner returned to its elastic loop.
North Korea’s voice came quietly.
“In my country, they would say this is indulgent.”
South Korea tucked the lashes box away “Probably.”
“They would say it is vain.”
“Probably.”
“They would say it makes me look weak.”
South Korea stopped packing.
He looked up.
North Korea was still looking at himself, but his mouth had tightened around the words. Not anger this time. Something older. Something trained into the body until even sitting in a bathroom with makeup on felt like a law being broken.
South Korea rested both gloved hands on the counter.
“They would be wrong.”
North Korea did not answer.
The bathroom door opened again.
This time it was Australia.
He stepped in with his phone in one hand and an apology already forming on his face “Hey, sorry, Canada got cornered near the-”
He stopped.
His eyes moved from South Korea to North Korea.
Then back to South Korea.
Then to the makeup pouch.
North Korea turned his head at the noise.
Australia’s expression changed immediately.
Not mockery.
Not discomfort.
Actual surprise.
His brows lifted slightly, mouth parting before he caught himself. For one startled second he simply stared at North Korea like he had walked into the wrong room and found a completely different person sitting on the counter.
“Oh” Australia said again, softer this time “Wow.”
North Korea stiffened instantly.
South Korea recognized the reaction at once: the subtle locking of the shoulders, the wariness sliding back into place after briefly disappearing. The makeup had softened his face so much that the expression looked almost painfully visible now. His eyes seemed larger beneath the lashes, confusion easier to read, embarrassment easier to spot.
Australia noticed too
“That wasn’t a bad wow” he said quickly “Sorry. I just-” He gestured vaguely toward South Korea. “Your brother is terrifyingly good at makeup.”
South Korea zipped the pouch with deliberate calm. “I know.”
Australia ignored him and kept looking at North Korea with open amazement “You look completely different.”
North Korea’s hand moved instinctively toward his face before stopping halfway there “Different bad?”
“No ” Australia said immediately. “Different like…” He paused, searching. “You look less like you’re about to threaten economic sanctions.”
South Korea snorted quietly.
North Korea looked uncertain whether that was an insult.
Australia softened his tone. “You look younger.”
That seemed to unsettle North Korea more than the first comment had.
His eyes shifted toward the mirror again. The lashes moved with the glance, soft and dark against the sharpness of the scars. The high blush placement had turned the natural flush spreading across his cheeks into something even warmer.
South Korea reached into the pouch again and pulled out the packet of wipes.
“Use oil cleanser later if you can,” he said, setting them beside North Korea’s hand “Don’t rub your eyes too hard.”
North Korea looked down at the packet.
Then, after only a second of hesitation, he folded it carefully and slipped it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket instead of leaving it behind.
South Korea noticed.
So did Australia.
Neither of them commented on it
North Korea slid off the counter slowly. Even standing straight again, something about him remained altered. The softened hair curled lightly near his temples now instead of lying flat against his forehead. The contour had gentled the harsher planes of his face. And worst of all, the puppy liner had made his naturally confused expression visible in a way that felt almost dangerous.
He looked less intimidating.
More approachable.
More human.
South Korea found that deeply unfair.
North Korea adjusted his sleeves once, covering part of the scars again before glancing toward South Korea.
“If…” He stopped.
Australia politely looked at the ceiling.
South Korea waited.
North Korea’s voice came lower the second time. “If there is another meeting.”
South Korea blinked.
North Korea looked away from him almost immediately after speaking, staring instead at one of the pale bathroom sinks as though it had suddenly become extremely important.
“You would…” His jaw tightened faintly with visible embarrassment. “Do it again?”
Australia’s expression went dangerously soft.
South Korea felt heat crawl unpleasantly up the back of his neck.
North Korea was not asking about makeup
Well. He was. But he was also not.
He was asking to repeat this.
The bright bathroom. The quiet conversation. The careful hands. The strange, private stillness that had existed for almost an hour between two countries who barely knew how to speak to each other without history clawing its way into the room.
South Korea looked at him through the mirror one last time.
“…Maybe” he answered.
North Korea nodded once, too quickly.
Australia absolutely noticed that too.
The three of them left the bathroom together.
The corridor outside felt louder immediately.
Voices bounced against marble walls. Security personnel moved briskly past in dark suits with wires disappearing into collars. Diplomats clustered in exhausted little groups near elevators and doors, all of them carrying folders and political damage in equal measure
Then people noticed North Korea.
The staring started subtly.
A double take from a passing delegate.
A secretary slowing mid step.
Someone near the press barricade blinking hard enough to miss the next sentence in their conversation.
North Korea noticed within seconds.
South Korea saw it happen in stages. The way North Korea’s shoulders tightened. The way his chin lowered slightly. The way his hands curled faintly at his sides.
His makeup was not dramatic enough to explain the reaction immediately, which somehow made it worse. People kept staring because something looked different, softer, wrong in a way they could not place at first glance.
Then they realized.
North Korea moved half a step closer to South Korea without seeming aware of it.
Australia saw that and quietly repositioned himself to North Korea’s other side, casually boxing him away from the worst of the corridor traffic.
No one mentioned it.
Ahead, near the main press section, absolute chaos had erupted.
America stood near one of the hallway intersections looking like he regretted every life decision that had led him here. Reporters surged against the temporary barriers, microphones raised in a dense forest of logos and camera lights.
“mr America!”
“Is the trade discussion with China collapsing- ”
“What is your response to-”
The United Nations organisation human stood nearby with two exhausted security staff members, trying desperately to force the crowd backward before someone climbed onto furniture.
The moment the three Koreans approached the intersection, cameras shifted instinctively.
Then froze.
The nearest reporter blinked.
Another lowered her microphone halfway.
Flash.
Flashflashflash.
“Oh my god, is that North Korea-“
“Look over here!” “What happened to his face-?” “Did South Korea do that-?”
The crowd surged instantly.
North Korea recoiled hard enough that his shoulder hit South Korea’s arm.
South Korea reacted before thinking.
He stepped slightly in front of him.
Not dramatically. Not protective enough to make headlines. Just enough that North Korea’s shoulder ended up behind his own.
The movement happened so naturally that South Korea only realized it after the cameras exploded again.
North Korea went rigid behind him.
The lashes made it worse.
Usually, North Korea’s expression under stress sharpened into something cold enough to keep people away. But now the widened eyes and softened liner made him look startled instead of threatening.
Cornered instead of dangerous.
Australia muttered something deeply Australian under his breath and moved forward immediately. “Back up, guys. Seriously.”
The reporters did not listen.
Questions crashed over each other.
“North Korea, who styled you-?” “Are you making a public image change-?” “Was this intentional diplomacy with South Korea-?”
“Are you wearing eyeliner-?”
Security finally surged forward properly then, shoving the press barricade back with sharp instructions.
The United Nations , The Organisationhuman looked one second away from developing a migraine visible to the naked eye.
“Move back” they snapped professionally “Now. Give them space.”
Eventually the crowd retreated by a few miserable feet.
The hallway calmed just enough to breathe again.
North Korea still stood partially behind South Korea.
South Korea could feel the tension radiating off him through the sleeve of his suit.
The organisation human adjusted their glasses, exhaled once, then looked directly at North Korea.
To South Korea’s surprise, their expression softened immediately.
“That style suits you” they said professionally “Very polished.”
North Korea stared.
A faint pink flush spread visibly beneath the high blush placement already sitting on his cheeks, deepening the colour until even Australia had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop smiling.
North Korea lowered his head slightly.
“…Thank you..” he muttered.
It came out awkwardly. Honest enough to sound almost unfamiliar in his mouth.
The United Nations nodded politely and turned back toward the security disaster before another incident could happen.
The corridor began moving again in cautious waves.
South Korea finally glanced sideways.
North Korea was still blushing.
Worse, with the makeup on, it was incredibly obvious.
South Korea looked away before his expression could betray him.
Australia absolutely saw that too.
The three of them continued down the hallway together, leaving the noise behind in fragments.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
Then Australia leaned closer to South Korea with the kind of smile that meant trouble.
“You’re scary talented, by the way.”
South Korea adjusted his gloves “I know.”
“No, seriously. You turned him into a sad historical drama protagonist.”
North Korea looked mildly alarmed “What does that mean?”
Australia pointed vaguely at him “You look like you died beautifully in episode sixteen.”
South Korea choked on air
North Korea looked even more confused
Australia grinned
And beside South Korea, hidden carefully beneath softened makeup, lashes, blush, and years of political armor, North Korea’s mouth twitched upward into the smallest, strangest smile yet.