Unwinding

The night had unfolded in a haze of shopping bags, new clothes, and so much retail therapy that you couldn’t even remember what your original budget was. You and Liam had stumbled back into your apartment, both a little weary, both feeling the weight of the day's decisions settling in your bones. The shopping bags were strewn around your bedroom room like a battlefield, but you didn’t have the energy to care. You were exhausted and in **** need of something familiar—something easy.

The fridge was stocked with leftovers from earlier in the week. You weren’t feeling up for cooking anything elaborate, so you pulled out the containers of Chinese takeout and a bottle of vodka you’d been saving for just this kind of moment.

“Are we really doing this?” you asked, half-smirking as you opened the vodka and poured a hefty amount into two glasses.

Liam grinned, clearly in his element. “Yeah, why not? After today, we deserve it.” He reached for his glass, swirling the contents before downing it in one go. “To surviving this shopping trip.”

You followed suit, letting the burn of the **** slide down your throat. It was a little like shedding the weight of the day, feeling the tension melt away. You plopped onto the couch next to Liam, grabbing your takeout and digging in. The food tasted comforting in a way you didn’t even realize you needed.

As you chewed on a piece of chicken, your mind started to drift to the numbers, the receipts, the mountain of clothing you’d just bought. You glanced at Liam. “So... how much did we actually spend today?”

Liam picked up his phone, scrolling through some text messages before showing you the total.

“$3,254,” he said, his voice as casual as if you were talking about a cup of coffee. “We’ll just call it an investment.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at the figure. “Jesus, Liam, that’s insane. You can’t seriously expect me to let you pay for some of that. No way.”

He waved you off, his lips curling into one of his signature teasing grins. “It’s not like I’m paying for all of it, girl. I’m just helping you out a bit. It’s no big deal. I got you covered.”

You felt an immediate surge of frustration. You were already feeling the weight of the curse, and now the weight of this shopping trip felt almost as heavy. The last thing you wanted was for Liam to feel like this burden was his too. You've felt that way for days now, but every time you brought it up, Liam always persisted. You pushed your plate aside, focusing solely on him.

“Liam, I’m serious. You don’t need to spend this much on me. It’s my problem, my issue. I should be the one to handle it. I’m not letting you cover for me like this.”

Liam’s expression shifted, his teasing tone replaced by a stubborn glint in his eyes. “You know how this works. I’m here to help, alright? You’ve been there for me through all kinds of shit. This is nothing.” He grabbed the vodka bottle and refilled both of your glasses, the **** almost making it feel like it was a game, one you were both determined to win. “Besides, what kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t help you?”

You inhaled deeply, rubbing your eyes. You knew Liam wasn’t going to back down. He never did. That stubbornness was part of what made him who he was, and part of why you trusted him so much. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

"God, you're a pain," you muttered, shaking your head in resignation. But deep down, you were grateful, even if you didn't know how to express it yet.

“I’ll just pay my half, alright? I won’t take no for an answer.”

You let out a long sigh, your shoulders slumping as the **** in your system loosened up some of your earlier tension. There was no arguing with Liam. Not tonight, not ever. And for some reason, as you sat there with him, something in you just snapped. You’d been trying so hard to hold everything together, to stay composed, but in that moment, with the **** making everything feel a little lighter, you felt your chest tighten.

You set your glass down, then stood, steadying yourself. You could feel the makeup on your face as you moved, the weight of the lashes especially. They were heavy against your eyelids, almost like a foreign object glued to you. Your lips felt a little stiff too, the red gloss still bold and glossy against your skin. It was a strange feeling—being so glam, yet feeling completely out of your element. But tonight, it didn’t matter.

“Come on, get up,” you said, voice a little quieter than normal.

Liam blinked, slightly taken aback. “What? Why?”

“Just... get up, okay?” You reached out and grabbed his hands, gently urging him up from the couch. The moment felt ****, but you didn’t care. You felt like you needed to do this, even though it's not what guy friends usually do.

When he stood, you reached up, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. You felt the softness of his shirt under your fingertips, the familiar warmth of his body, and for a moment, it was like the world outside disappeared.

It was a strange hug, a little awkward, but somehow, in this moment, it felt right. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, just as his arms wrapped around your lower back. Your best friend just felt like an even better friend than before, if that was even possible.

Liam’s voice came out soft and unsure, the usual playful edge gone. “Hey, I got your back, okay? Always.”

“Thank you, Liam. Seriously,” you said, the words coming out with more emotion than you had intended. Your heart felt full in a way that was almost painful. “I—I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Liam just nodded, the usual teasing glint returning to his eyes, but something softer now. “Don’t get all mushy on me, girl,” he said with a half-smile, ruffling your hair. But you could see that he meant it. You could feel the sincerity in his touch, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. It just felt good for Liam to have your back like this.

The warmth of the vodka was still coursing through your veins as you and Liam settled back into the couch, the remnants of your earlier hug still lingering in the space between you. You felt both loose and oddly unmoored, the comfortable buzz of the **** dulling some of the tension you’d carried with you all day. You picked at the leftovers on your plate, your focus drifting in and out as Liam spoke, his voice getting a little more animated as the night wore on.

“So, seriously,” Liam said, his voice slightly slurred as he tilted his head, “I can’t believe how good you look tonight. Like, really good. I mean, look at those lashes of yours. They're, like, practically magic. And that lipstick? It’s still on, like it’s glued to your lips. How are you still looking this perfect?”

You tried to suppress a cringe, but the **** made it hard to maintain the usual level of discomfort. You rolled your eyes, even as your face flushed with an unfamiliar heat. You hated hearing this. You hated even more that Liam was noticing things like your lashes and lipstick.

“Liam, stop that. I don’t even know why you’re talking about it,” you muttered, looking down at your glass and swirling the contents. "It’s just makeup, alright? It’s not me. It's still me, Lucas." You still couldn’t get used to the way you looked, even though you’d been **** to do so for this curse.

Liam chuckled, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “Come on, don’t be modest. You look amazing tonight. Seriously, it’s like you’re glowing or something. Maybe you should consider wearing that stuff more often"

You winced again, taking another swig of vodka to try to cover it up. You hated the way he saw you, but you couldn’t exactly argue with him, because objectively, you knew hew was right. Right now, you were too drunk to care about pushing back, and the **** was lowering your inhibitions.

Eventually, after a few moments of silence, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. You were getting too loose, too relaxed, and the conversation had reached a point where the usual topic was about to come up.

“Liam,” you said, hesitating just a little, your voice softer than usual. “Do you... think we need to do, uh, our usual... arrangement tonight?” You couldn’t quite look at him as you said it. It felt weird, knowing what it meant, but the **** had made your thoughts less coherent, more muddled, and it slipped out before you could stop yourself.

Liam looked over at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression serious for a moment. He seemed to consider your words, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think we should. But, uh, can I ask something first?”

You felt a little nervous, unsure of where this was going. But before you could answer, Liam kept going.

“Listen,” he began, a playful glint in his eyes that was almost too casual for the topic, “you can’t just wear the hoodie and joggers, though. I mean, we’re talking about... you know... doing that, and I think it’d be a loooooot better if you looked, well, more hot.”

Your stomach dropped, and you shot him a look of disbelief. “Are you serious right now?” You felt a surge of irritation, a flare of annoyance at the audacity of the request. “You want me to change? Again? After all the changing we did today? Now you want me to wear something... else?”

Liam’s face remained calm, his tone not changing as he spoke. “Yeah, come on. You’ve got all this stuff now, and you look amazing in it. It’d be a waste not to, right?”

You sat back, scowling, feeling the weight of the **** against your tongue. A part of you wanted to snap back, to demand why it was even necessary to dress like that just for this stupid arrangement. You could already feel the overwhelming self-consciousness creeping up again, the nagging feeling that you were still a guy despite what you had to go through. But the words felt harder to fight back now.

You shook your head, frustrated. “I can't believe you're asking me to do this, Liam,” you muttered, the vulnerability laced in your words betraying the ****’s effect.

The words hit harder than they should have, and you found yourself blinking up at him, your throat tight. Part of you wanted to argue, but the other part, the ****-soaked part, was starting to break down the usual walls you put up. It was hard to stay mad when everything felt so loose, so easy to give into. And more importantly, part of you wanted to just make it easier. You didn’t want to argue with Liam anymore. You didn’t want to fight over this.

“Fine,” you said, though it came out a little shakier than you expected. You crossed your arms defensively, feeling more exposed than you liked. “I’ll... I’ll put something else on, alright? But I swear if you’re gonna keep pushing me to look like this every damn time, I’m gonna lose it.”

Liam chuckled, clearly happy that you’d given in, but he didn’t push you any further. “Don’t worry about it. Just... trust me, you’re going to look soooooo amazing.”

And though the words irritated you, a part of you couldn’t help but agree. You couldn’t quite understand it, couldn’t fully accept it, but it was true—when you got to the bedroom and looked in the mirror, you did look good, maybe even better than you ever had. The makeup, the lashes, the lipstick, it all just worked in a way that you never expected it to. But in your mind, you were still a guy. You still felt like a guy, no matter how beautiful you were made to look.