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Rolan doesn’t really drink or do drugs - at least not as much as Kian and Rand do. But being this close to Kian feels a little like being intoxicated. Like he’s getting a second hand high from Kian’s perfume.
She’s sitting so close to Rolan she may as well be on top of him. Rolan can barely even focus on her face. All he really manages to catch is the furrow of Kian’s eyebrows and the tiny bit of her tongue poking out from her lips as she concentrates.
She’s got a hand firmly on Rolan’s jaw, holding his face steady. The other is lifting up lipstick - the final thing to complete his look.
Kian draws in closer. Rolan’s breath catches. All he can smell is that stupid, flowery perfume.
Kian’s focused entirely on her task. Instructing Rolan through the process of getting the lipstick on. Hums in thought and carefully fills in the bits Rolan missed.
She pulls back abruptly. Sweeps her gaze critically over Rolan’s face. Rolan kind of wants to drag her right back in. Feels a little cold without her.
But then Kian’s face is breaking out into an easy, pretty grin and she’s searching around to hand Rolan a mirror.
The spell that was between them breaks even further. The intoxication draining from Rolan’s body entirely as he remembers why, exactly, Kian was so close to him in the first place.
He fumbles to receive the mirror. Promptly shoves any and all stray thoughts he had during this process to a sealed off box in the back of his mind.
“You look great, dude!”
He certainly looks… interesting.
He’s never worn make-up before. But Kian’s good at what she does so it doesn’t look bad. Just… interesting.
He likes it.
“Thanks, man.”
He tilts his head, examining further. Kian went for a more subtle look than what she likes to wear. He appreciates it.
“Nah, thank you for, like, letting me practice, dude.”
“No problem.” Rolan keeps his voice casual. No need for Kian to know just how much he enjoyed this experience. The make-up and the closeness. “Happy to, uh, help.”
Kian’s with Becky. Rolan needs to remind himself of that. Plus, the whole world doesn’t even know Kian’s a girl yet. He’d be risking a lot. And this close to Kian looking at the sparkle of her eyes and her pretty grin, he almost wants to.
But - Kian’s with Becky. Hopelessly in love with her in a way Rolan doesn’t think he could ever get between. Not that he wants to. Okay, well, he does, but he also wants them to be happy. Is happy that they’re happy and that overrides any stray thoughts of getting over his anxiety of rejection - both from Kian and society - and asking her out.
“Want me to wipe it off now or do you wanna leave it on for a bit?” Kian asks, rummaging through his make-up kit. “I mean, my parents aren’t gonna be home for a bit, but, like, even if they do see you they’ll probably be chill. They don’t give a shit when they see me with make-up.”
Rolan kind of does want to leave it on for a bit. But it’s too big of a risk.
“Now’s good.”
Plus, as much as Kian is the first person he’d go to if he wanted to talk about queer stuff, Kian’s also the kind of guy to encourage him to open up about his feelings if he gives her any sort of hint that he’s troubled. She’s like a shark smelling a drop of blood in the water.
And he doesn’t think he wants all that right now. Not even for himself. This is all something he’s going to carefully pack away and shove to the back of his mind the second he steps out of Kian’s RV.
Kian leans in again. Rolan’s still not used to it. Any second now he’s sure that Kian’s going to realise the blush on his cheeks isn’t just artificial. Maybe he’ll be able to get away with it by blaming it on how much force Kian is putting into wiping the make-up off.
“Let me know if I hurt you, okay, dude?” Kian says on cue. “Just trying to make sure I get it all.”
“It’s fine, man.”
And as much as Rolan’s reveling in the returned warmth of Kian pressed close to him, he mourns the short-lived makeup a little. He’s not really sure what that means for himself.
When Kian had talked about her gender, she’d just said, “I’m like if a dude was also a chick.” And had only elaborated with, “Well, does it matter? I’m a total babe either way, man.”
Which is true, but doesn’t really help his situation.
Whatever. Like he said, he just won’t think about it. That technique hasn’t failed him yet.
“Remember when I used to do this for you in high school?”
“Yeah.”
Rolan doesn’t think he could forget it. Those moments with Kian always felt burned into his mind - springing forward whenever he saw make-up at the store, or smelt something a little too similar to Kian’s perfume.
It was always accompanied by some kind of regret. At first, he thought it was a regret that he indulged in the experience. Now he knows he was just upset that he couldn’t do it again.
But he is doing it again. Rand’s in the other room making lunch and Kian’s sitting in his lap, carefully analysing the eye make-up he just applied. To make sure it’s even, Rolan assumes.
Rolan kisses her. Just briefly - closer to a peck than anything. But he does it because he can now. After all those moments of repressing and holding himself back it’s finally led to this.
Her perfume’s still the same. Something sweet and flowery. Rolan loves it. He’s also acutely aware that if he admits that he’s going to get compared to a bug again.
“You always look so pretty with make-up, dude.” Kian says, leaning over to the coffee table to grab lipstick. “If I wasn’t with Becky at the time…”
Rolan feels his face heat up. Kian’s trailed off admission mirroring his own thoughts back then.
“Oh.”
“I mean, she knew how I felt about you guys.” Kian selects a colour and leans back. “She was cool with it ‘cause she also knew how I felt about her.”
“I, uh, always had to hold myself back from kissing you.” Rolan admits. “I wouldn’t have, of course. You were- you were so happy with Becky.”
Kian shrugs.
“She probably would’ve been fine with it. I always told her I’d never make the first move ‘cause - yeah, I was happy with her. Didn’t need anyone else. But also I was… fucking terrified I’d scare you guys off if I did.”
“That’s fair, man. You, um… might’ve. For, like- for me, at least.”
Kian smiles at him. Something soft, and beautiful.
“You were always thinking too much, dude. Now stop talking - lipstick time.”
Rolan remembers this process well.
Once - in a moment of weakness a couple years back - he bought some lipstick. And every now and then he’d apply it. It never felt the same as when Kian did, but it was still nice.
When she’s done, she leans back over to the coffee table to retrieve a mirror.
“You look gorgeous, babe.”
Rolan stares at himself. He does look nice. Kian’s always been amazing with make-up - even back in Galloway when she could only wear it sometimes.
“Thank you.”
“Do you want a wig? I have, like, a couple I think. But, you know,” Kian runs a hand through her hair and grins, “why cover up something this bangin’?”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll try a wig.”
“Radical!”
Kian leaves his lap to go search through her closet. Rolan mourns the loss a little, but he knows she’ll be right back. That even if she wasn’t, he could ask for that affection whenever he wanted now without having to worry about ruining their friendship.
The wig Kian selects is a dark brown colour with lots of volume to it. It’s not a hairstyle Rolan’s ever been close to having - usually sticking to short, slicked back hair.
“Hm.” Kian starts fitting the wig onto him. “Probably should’ve brushed it first.”
“It’s alright, man. It’s only gonna be for a little bit.”
“It doesn’t have to be, dude. Wear it for as long as you’d like, okay?”
Rolan’s really not sure whether he’ll even like it.
“Okay.”
“Remind me to take you to a drag show, man.” Kian hums a little as she neatens up the wig. “I think you’ll love it.”
He has been to a drag show. Once. Back in Chicago. He’d been so anxious he’d left halfway through, though, and never tried again.
But maybe now’s the time. It’d be nice to go with Kian. And they might even be able to drag Rand out with them.
“There you go, dude.” Kian taps the mirror in his hands. “Take a look.”
It’s strange. Maybe more strange than when he first saw himself with make-up on. Between the two of them, he barely even recognises himself.
It’s strange but it’s nice. He shakes his head a little, watching the waves bounce. Feels them brush against his shoulders.
“What d’you think, babe?”
“I like it.” He puts the mirror down. “Not- not all the time. Not like you. But it’s… it’s fun.”
Kian stands. Grabs his hands and drags him up, too.
“Let’s go show Rand!”
Rolan hesitates. Rand has never seen him with make-up like this. The only time he would’ve seen Rolan with make-up would’ve been from dares. Him and Kian kept their little sessions locked tightly between themselves. He doesn’t even think Kian told Becky.
And Rand does know now that they’re doing this. But… he’s worried he’ll look clumsy. Kian wears femininity, and masculinity, and anything in between so well and Rolan… doesn’t think he matches up to that.
“Wait, uh, dressed- dressed like this?”
He gestures down at his clothes. A casual button up and some slacks. A completely different vibe to what’s going on above his shoulders.
Not that it necessarily clashes. Someone like Kian could probably pull it off, but Rolan isn’t Kian. And he wants to look nice when Rand first sees him like this.
“You wanna wear one of my dresses, babe?”
“Yeah, um...” His voice is quiet. “Okay.”
Kian’s closet is kind of ridiculous. There’s so much going on he doesn’t even know where to look first. But Kian navigates it with ease. Selects a few of her less flamboyant dresses and holds them out for Rolan to try.
The dress he ends up with falls just below his knees, with long-sleeves that don’t quite cover his wrists in a way that Kian assured him was intentional. It’s tan. With white spots and a belt to match.
He likes it. A lot. It fits him pretty well, he thinks. Probably because Kian got it for herself and they have similar proportions.
While he was trying it on, Kian had changed into a red dress of a similar style. It’s shorter than Rolan’s. Reaching just above her knees, and much more fitted than his. Like a pencil skirt, he thinks they’re called.
She looks beautiful. And Rolan really wants to kiss her but he doesn’t want to ruin his lipstick. Or hers.
“God, you’re so hot, babe.” Kian says, adjusting the neckline of his dress slightly. “This looks like it was fucking made for you, dude, you can keep it.”
“Oh, uh, thanks, man.”
It’s crazy to think that this started just because he wanted an excuse to be close to Kian. Now he owns a dress.
Kian loops their arms together and drags him out to see Rand.
“Rand! Come look at your girlfriends!”
Rand turns around and Rolan almost laughs at how immediately red his cheeks get.
“You guys look, uh, nice.” He steps closer. Wraps his arms around Rolan’s waist. “Like, really nice. This suits you.”
“Thanks.” Rolan nods his head at Kian. “And you can thank her for that.”
Rand pulls back to address Kian.
“Mind if I ruin the make-up a little?”
“Only if it’s the lipstick.” Kian leans forward, lowering her voice. “And only if you ruin mine, too.”
Rand laughs.
“Obviously, man.”
And then he kisses her.
Rolan isn’t jealous. He’s seen them kiss hundreds of times before and it always feels warm, and nice, and right. But right now, he is impatient.
He wraps his arms around Rand’s waist and squeezes slightly. Rand pulls away from Kian with a laugh and a mumbled apology before kissing Rolan.
It feels strange that he can just have this. That the thing that started between the walls of Kian’s RV can be brought out here. That Rand can see him and think he looks nice. The fact he’s able to kiss Rand at all.
Kian laughs when they pull away from the kiss.
“Rand, dude,” she thumbs at Rand’s lips, “you got some lipstick on you there.”
“Ah.” Rand wipes a hand over his mouth. “Next you’ll have me in eyeliner.”
“I can only dream, man.”
“I think I’ll leave the make-up to you guys.” Rand squeezes Rolan’s waist again, and steps away. “And good thing I already messed up your lipstick, ‘cause lunch is ready.”
Kian gives Rolan a quick kiss, and trails her hand down Rolan’s arm to hold his hand.
It may’ve taken him a while to get here, but he’s so glad he gets to have this.