Heartfelt Makeover
Qiang’s POV
Tristan has been asking me for a makeover for a few days now.
He says he’s just curious about it since he’s never tried makeup before.
He’s a terrible liar. It’s not the only lie he’s tried to sell me on, although I haven’t quite had the stones to point out the other lie that I know all three of the guys in this house are telling me.
I know who built my vanity, or at least who had it built. Either way, I’m not dumb. Tristan and Marcus are both deplorable liars, and I know my brother well enough to see through him when he tries to lie. But the argument seems moot, and like digging my heels in over something so trivial.
I also haven’t pointed it out because it’s something that deserves my appreciation, but with everything so topsy-turvy, I’m afraid the appreciation will come across the wrong way. It’s one of those things where I’ll tell them (and thank Marcus, of course) when the vibes are right.
As for this makeover, I know why Tristan wants to get me alone, and it’s why I’ve hedged a few days. The thing is, I knew they’d eventually move on from suggesting I need help to coming right out and trying to convince me to get it.
And despite being convinced that I’ve known better the last four years, this past Friday night was a major slap in the face. I was a one-person wrecking crew that hurt every person in my vicinity that night, and I’ve struggled with looking myself in the face ever since.
Sure, Cade wasn’t exactly cut up about the boundaries I crossed, and I’ve apologized to Marcus, and Qi and I have been hovering in a circle of talking about everything but what we really need to talk about.
But apologies mean nothing if they’re not followed by corrective behavior. So I know what Tristan really wants to say. I’ve just been giving myself a few days to wrap my head around everything I thought I knew and to get ready to make some new habits.
Despite the realizations, I haven’t moved past saving a few therapists' names. I’m hesitant and don’t really know where to start, but I know I need to figure it out sooner rather than later.
Tristan kind of hovers around, not knowing what to do with himself, and I pick a book up off the vanity and point to the chair to sit.
“Before we get started, I wanted to give you this,” I tell him, handing him a beginner’s guide to tantric meditation.
“What is it?” he asks, opening the book. He flips through a few of the pages, and his cheeks turn rosy before he looks back up at me with wide eyes. “A sex book?”
If only Qi were this shy with me, then maybe I wouldn’t have such an unhealthy store of knowledge of their sex life.
I honestly think a huge part of that comes from the fact that, since he met Tristan, he’s grown so much more comfortable in his own skin, and that’s given him the freedom to be curious.
He feels safe now to question and experiment because Tristan is about as safe a space as anyone could ever have. But neither of them are allo, so Qi turns to me because I am, and he knows I’m not going to laugh in his face when he asks, but the oversharing really overshares sometimes.
Although I try to keep the lamenting about that to myself because I know I’m the only one Qi trusts with those conversations, with the only other exception being Tristan, of course.
And well, in fairness, Marcus is a bit now too.
I don’t think he’s quite as open with Marcus as he is with Tristan and me, but I’ve heard Marcus lament about TMI on more than one occasion, so I know he’s more comfortable with Marcus than he is with most people.
“Well, yes and no. It’s about tantric meditation, which focuses more on sexual intimacy than it does on orgasm.
It’s all about breathing as one and being in the moment and channeling the sexual intimacy you share.
At least as far as I understand it. It’s not really my thing, not that I ever really tried, but I’ve heard of it and thought it might be up your and Qi’s alley. ”
Tristan lightly peruses through some of the pages and shakes his head with bemusement. “Your family has a thing about giving me sex books.”
I laugh lightly at that, remembering the butt book my dad gave him the first time they met.
Qi was mortified, and I was mortified for him, up until I realized that mortification didn’t prevent him from oversharing whenever it was just him and me in the room.
Even though if I share too much, Qi gets mortified about that too.
But what are you gonna do about brothers and their double standards, right?
Not like I haven’t called him out on it and found it doesn’t really change much.
“It is a learned art,” I chuckle at him. “I would have given it to Qi, but then I’m afraid he’d get all graphically curious about it. He has no filter when I’m around, and I already know more than I ever needed to know.”
Tristan nods a bit to himself before his eyes snap up to mine. “Oh, right. He said he got the cockwarming idea from you.”
“No, he had the idea; he just asked me if it was weird to use it as an emotional bond as opposed to a BDSM kink,” I point out, not really knowing why I’m feeling the need to defend myself here.
“I take it you said it’s not weird, then,” he says nonchalantly.
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Does it hurt anyone?”
“Well, no.”
“Do you guys enjoy it?” Why the fuck did I ask that? I mean, obviously, it’s important to get my point across, but goddammit, now I’m not gonna be able to unknow the answer. I should have kept the book to myself.
“Yeah. It’s like being connected for no other purpose than to be connected, which is–” they stop abruptly, their eyes flitting to mine and then back to the book. “It’s nice,” they finish, and it’s almost funny how opposite Qi would be if he were sitting in Tristan’s place right now.
“Then why would it be weird? How you use sex is between the two of you, and begrudgingly me whenever Qi feels the need to fill me in on things I don’t need to know,” I point out.
“But yet, you just gave me a sex book,” he says as though he read my thoughts from a moment ago.
“Precisely. I gave it to you, who won’t feel the need to give me a bunch of details I don’t need, whereas if I gave it to Qi, I’d have to hear things no sibling should ever have to hear.”
“But if you didn’t give it at all…” he trails off, probably trying to figure out why I opened the door to a conversation he knows isn’t one of my favorites.
“Do you want the book?” I ask, getting just a tad bit irritated.
“I mean, yeah,” he says, tucking the book a bit closer to him as though he thinks I’m gonna change my mind and take it back. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of the movement.
“It’s absolutely no wonder the two of you are together. If ever there were two people created more for each other than you two, then I’ll eat my favorite fuchsia lipstick.”
He blanches at that and frowns. “I think your digestive tract will thank you if you don’t do that.”
I roll my eyes and laugh at that. “Come here,” I motion him forward and grab a band to hold his hair out of his face.
“Are you gonna make me look like Farrah Fawcett?” he asks me with a trace of amusement.
“Have you seen Farrah Fawcett?” I ask, the ridiculousness of his question evident in my tone.
“Yes. I was curious when everyone said my hair looks like hers whenever I fix it.”
I nod at that because the comparison is sound; at a glance, it really does give those vibes, but there are also significant differences if you pay closer attention.
“Yes and no, hers is more curled, and yours is straighter and more feathered. I’m also not much of a hairstylist, so if you want to take the look that far, then that part will be up to you.”
“Oh,” he says simply, his eyes scanning my counter of products.
“Besides, I have no intention of feminizing you. I’m simply going to even out your skin tone, do a little work around the eyes to make them pop, and accentuate your jawline and cheekbones,” I tell him, slipping a bit into my influencer persona.
I’m not actually recording today because I know what he wants to talk about, and it doesn’t need to be publicly aired. Still, it’s a habit for the personality to slip on after so many years of doing recorded makeovers.
“Oh,” he says again, and I almost laugh at how out of his depth he is.
“Oh? You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?” I ask with amusement.
He laughs and shakes his head. “No, not really.”
“Okay, so do you want to just lean back and let me do my thing like Qi does? Or would you rather I tell you what I’m using and why? I usually do that when I’m recording, but since we’re not recording, I can leave out the tutorial.”
Tristan shakes his head a bit. “I’m not really all that curious. This is more for fun, so I’ll just trust you to do your thing. If I’m curious about anything, I’ll ask. Although if you ever do one of these with Marcus, I definitely want to be here for it.”
I raise my eyebrow at that. “Why?”
Tristan shrugs. “Makeup isn’t his thing, but he googled about ten thousand videos and bombarded his mom with a million questions about makeup and makeup channels after he found out that's what you're into, so I kinda want to see how many questions it takes before he annoys the shit out of you,” he laughs at that.
“No wonder his mom knows all about me,” I mutter under my breath.
Tristan chuckles and shrugs. “Qi talks a lot about you, too, and she already had a healthy level of respect, but there was no missing Marcus's interest, and since that was the first time he'd ever shown interest in anyone, it caught everyone's attention.”