JosCarl Oneshots

Make-Up

JosCarl Modern AU. MUA!sop, and Photographer!seph

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Aesop Carl was an embalmer, but he was the closest thing to a make-up artist to his friends. His experience with painting the dead's faces was no different from painting live ones; the only difference was to make them more "beautiful" or "perfect," rather than making them look more "alive." He was their budget cosmetologist, offering his services for free, often doing their faces out of fun and practice. Aesop knew he didn't quite have an MUA's skillful touch, but he wasn't the worst either; in fact, he did a pretty darn good job at it.

His friends rang him up one afternoon, asking him to do their make-up for some photographer's photoshoot. "Doing a favor for my friend," was what Vera said, even though Aesop didn't really care what her story was. He was simply glad he'd paint his lady friends' faces again; it was always fun when they asked him to do something for them. Though, there was nothing he loved doing more than giving somebody new eyes and lips, dead or alive. They scheduled an appointment at noon, and that was that.

Aesop could already hear the endless chatter of his friends before they even rang the bell to his apartment. They had no qualms gossiping and babbling about the person in question—even if they were in front of them. He swung the door open and ushered them inside.

"I told you, we don't need to go to the salon," Vera rolled her eyes, slinging/throwing her bag on Aesop's couch. "We're just going to spend money! Besides, he's fantastic at make-up, there's no way those girls could compete with him."

A familiar blonde followed after Vera. "But he can't like, do those super crazy fancy techniques, or whatever," Tracy said, replying to the other's comment. "Yeah, I mean, he's good, but can't do some James Charles-level type of stuff."

Vera shot a look at the girl she's been speaking to. "We're here not to look crazy, we're here to look natural and mild. That's what Mr. Photographer wanted. Natural."

She turned her head to someone outside the doorway, to someone Aesop couldn't see.

"Natural," Vera repeated, "that's what you wanted, right, Joseph?"

A man's voice came in response, a voice Aesop was unfamiliar with. It was smooth, almost melodic, the kind of voice that can read you stories till you drowned in its soothing tone.

"Yeah, natural," he said. "You don't need to look like one of those beauty gurus on Youtube."

Aesop's interest was piqued, and he leaned back just a little to get a glimpse of the man. He was tall, around 6'2, with long, fair hair that almost looked white. Heck, it probably even was white. But it wasn't his snowy hair that took Aesop's attention the most; no, it was his face.

His features were angled, but it still had a fragileness to his looks, like a kind of ethereal-looking being. The combination of sharp angles and delicate lines gave way to a terrifying, androgynously handsome face. It baffled Aesop; he should have been the model instead, instead of being the photographer!

Aesop and the man locked eyes for a second, and he glanced away, embarrassed by being caught staring. Tracy must have seen the look on Aesop's face because she elbowed him harshly in the side.