She throws her head back with such force, that specks appear at the sides of her eyes in a dizzy-ing way. She dismisses the sensation with a literal flick of the wrist, moving a little bottle toward her eye. She blinks immediately as the liquid hits her iris, inwardly grimacing at the feel of it. She repeats the gesture on her other side, with equal discontent felt, and leans her head forward violently. Dizziness ensues again. Once her eyes refocus, she looks at her disheveled appearance. Her hair is scraggy, wilder than ever and only half-heartedly pulled back and off her face. Her nose is practically red raw, and she knows of its extreme sensitivity to touch. She looks at her eyes next, glaring at the treacherous bead of solution that had made its bid for freedom and rolled down her cheek. Mascara now screwed up for the rest of the day, she groans before needing to sneeze again. The bursts are so loud and bordering explosive, she only just manages to hear the latch click as the door shuts. She knows who it is, so sees no reason in turning round. He steps behind her and eventually stands almost flush with her back. Looking at his eyes in the mirror, she sees how he blinks only once at her appearance before grasping the wad of tissue by her left hand. He tears a little off, dampens it mildly by a few droplets of water from the dripping faucet, and reaches round her, still only looking at her in the mirror. He makes quick work of the mascara trail, touching up the stray track until it is no more, then places the tissue down and moves his hand to her hair, continuing to say nothing. Carefully removing the hair tie, he splays it between his fingers and runs a hand through her hair. Seemingly satisfied, he bunches her hair in his hands, picking up the straggly little pieces, and wraps the tie around her curls. Once. Twice. Three times. Only then, when she has stopped sniffing and is entirely focused yet distracted, silent but speaking, all at once- only then does he look at her. His eyes lock onto hers and neither dares blink, for fear of destroying the moment. He smiles, surprisingly weakly, and leans his head forward. Placing a delicate, lingering kiss to the top of her
head in a manner so light it resembled a feather floating through the wind, his eyes flutter shut, as do hers. He squeezes her shoulder gently, then allows his hand to fall to his side, turning on his heel and leaving the room. And she thinks that she feels better already.