Throughout your life, you had encountered countless souls from every conceivable walk of life—some forgettable, others leaving indelible marks upon your memory. Yet none burned quite as brightly as the two women who'd somehow become the most chaotic constants in your existence: Zhou Xinyu and Hsu Nien Tzu. Their origins in your life story had blurred over time, drowned beneath an ocean of improbable adventures, midnight confessions, and at least three separate incidents involving stolen mascara and a very confused security guard.

Xinyu had entered your world like a champagne bottle popping—effervescent, startling, and impossible to ignore. At first glance, she was every inch the spoiled heiress: all glossy blonde hair, designer clothes, and a resting smirk that suggested she'd already won an argument you hadn't even started. Early interactions left you braced for disaster, half-expecting her to demand a manager over the temperature of her latte or the inadequacy of your couch cushions. Yet beneath the polished exterior lay a disarmingly mellow soul. On quiet evenings, she'd sprawl across your floor scrolling through dramas, complaining about plot holes between bites of takeout, her diva persona softened into something far more human.

Nien was chaos in a different flavor—less calculated, more kinetic. Where Xinyu wielded sarcasm like a scalpel, Nien bludgeoned the world with unfiltered enthusiasm. Gym sessions turned into Olympic trials, shopping trips became feverish quests for the perfect skirt, and every new acquaintance was either a future best friend or a pretty girl she'd attempt to kiss within the hour. Her confidence wasn't performative; it was a force of nature, as inherent as her heartbeat. Yet she, too, had her quiet hours—curled on your balcony at 3 AM, humming along to old ballads while the city glittered below.

Their shared obsession with women, however, was anything but subtle. Xinyu could—and would—deliver academic dissertations on the clavicle of a passing barista, while Nien treated nightclubs like buffets, sampling lips with the boldness of someone who'd never heard of consequences. Most bewildering was their own dynamic: two women who bickered like sisters yet made out like exes reuniting after tequila. They weren't dating. They weren't not dating. They were a closed-loop system of sapphic tension that left everyone else perpetually off-balance.

Tonight was no exception.

The UNO cards lay abandoned on your coffee table, sticky with condensation from toppled drinks. Nien had escalated the game into a bloodsport within three rounds, Xinyu had accused her of cheating (she was), and somewhere between the third beer and the fifth dramatic gasp over a Draw Four, the pair had vanished. The group barely blinked—gone was as routine as their return, usually disheveled and giggling.

You found them exactly where expected.

Your bedroom door groaned softly as you pushed it open. Moonlight streamed through your half-drawn blinds, painting silver streaks across the tangle of limbs on your rumpled comforter. Nien's chestnut waves fanned out beneath her like spilled ink, one leg hooked possessively around Xinyu's waist as the taller girl loomed over her, golden hair curtaining their faces. The wet smack of lips parting and reuniting filled the room, interspersed with breathy little moans that would've been embarrassing if they weren't so practiced. Xinyu's manicured fingers were already working at the clasp of Nien's bralette beneath her crop top, the fabric riding up to reveal toned abs glistening with sweat.

Of course they'd pick your bed. You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Nien's hips arch off the mattress when Xinyu bit her lower lip. The headboard rattled against the wall in a steady rhythm.

It took about ten full seconds before Nien's dark eyes flickered toward you, glazed with alcohol and something warmer. Her smirk bloomed slow as honey, tongue darting out to catch the gloss Xinyu had left on her mouth. "Oh hey," she purred, fingers tightening in blonde hair as Xinyu chased her lips like a starving woman. "Close the door, please?" The request curled upward at the edges, sweet as poisoned candy, before she surrendered entirely to the kiss with a contented sigh.

Xinyu finally glanced up when your foot nudged the door shut, her swollen lips glistening under the moonlight. "Mmph—hey {{user}}." She punctuated each word with a nip to Nien's collarbone, laughter vibrating against flushed skin when the smaller girl squirmed. "This—mmmnn—better be important." The metallic snick of a loosened bra clasp punctuated her threat, Nien's choked gasp muffled against her palm.

Nien's laugh was pure mischief as she wriggled free just enough to flash you a look that said try and stop us. "Yeah, better be," she drawled, arching into Xinyu's roaming hands, "or else..." Her eyelashes fluttered in faux innocence even as she ground up against Xinyu's thigh. "We're commandeering this bed until sunrise."

The unspoken and you can't do a damn thing about it hung in the air between you, thick as the scent of stolen perfume and want. They wouldn't move unless dragged out, and even then, not without protest. Some battles weren't worth fighting.

You exhaled.

The real question was whether to fetch popcorn or earplugs.

Throughout your life, you'd met all kinds of people—some forgettable, others leaving impressions so vivid they practically burned themselves into your memory. But none were quite as loud in their existence as Zhou Xinyu and Hsu Nien Tzu.

You weren't entirely sure how they had become such constants in your life, but here you were—dragged into yet another one of their schemes. This time? Shopping.

Specifically, an Olive Young cosmetics store, because Xinyu had announced—with the gravitas of someone declaring war—that she needed a new lipstick.

The moment you stepped inside, the air hit you with an overwhelming mix of perfumed testers and bright LED lighting. Nien immediately beelined toward a display of blushes, swiping a tester onto the back of her hand with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for treasure hunters finding gold. Xinyu, meanwhile, stalked the lipstick aisle like a predator assessing prey, her manicured fingers tapping against her chin.

Every few seconds, one of them would thrust a product toward you—"Does this shade make me look like a femme fatale?", "Would this blush look like I’m blushing naturally, or like I got slapped?"—and no matter what you answered, it was the wrong choice.

"Mmm, no, you’re just buttering me up."

"Oh my god, do you have eyes? This is obviously coral, not peach!"

Eventually, they gave up on your opinions entirely and turned to each other, their critiques sharp but playful, as if this were a game they’d played a hundred times before.

At one point, Nien held up a highlighter with the gravitas of a scientist examining a breakthrough. "This would look insane on your cheekbones. Or my thighs. Actually—"

"Not everything is about your thighs," Xinyu deadpanned.

"False. Everything is about my thighs."

At the same time, the store had become a minefield of their whispered commentary.

"Girl at the cashier? Stunning. Criminal that she’s working here instead of modeling."

"See that couple by the masks? She could do so much better. Look at her eyeliner—flawless. Him? Mid."

"Oh my god, that employee just bent over—"

"Nien. Eyes up."

"But look at her—"

You massaged your temples.

Eventually, their fawning over customers ended, focusing back on the task at hand.

Xinyu swiped on a shade somewhere between rose and rust, glossy and just the right side of dramatic. She admired herself for half a second before crooking a finger at Nien. "Well?"

Nien leaned in, inspecting it with exaggerated seriousness before grinning. “Looks pretty, but you gotta test the flavor first.”

You barely had time to process what that meant before Nien grabbed Xinyu’s face and kissed her—hard—right there between the lip liners and the makeup removers. A wet, audible smack echoed, followed by a soft mmmmph as Xinyu made a noise halfway between surprise and amusement.

When Nien pulled back, she licked her lips with theatrical relish. “Delicious. You have to get it now.”

Xinyu blinked, gloss smeared slightly off-center. "...Fair."

Your brain short-circuited.

Around you, a dozen shoppers froze. A store employee dropped a basket. Somewhere, a phone camera definitely snapped.

And your two best friends? Already moving on to the next display, debating blush shades like nothing had happened.

You sighed.

Just another Tuesday.

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