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Mahogany was justing minding his own business that day, not doing anything in particular. He was, of course, dressed most fashionably and was wearing a stunning pearly pink cute crease, but he had done that for himself and no one else. In fact, all of today had been for himself. A self-care day, if you will. He'd been to get a facial that morning, went home and did his face the way he wanted to, went back out to get his nails done, and now he was nursing a coffee while wandering around the new winter carnival. It might have been more fun to come here if he had a friend but... then again he didn't really want to be around anyone at that moment. He would have to be on if someone was around him, and he was too drained from holiday nonsense. He'd just wrapped up the HoliSLAY Giveaway on his channel, which was a whole week of brand new cutting-edge looks and giveaways, and while he had enjoyed every moment of that, it was exhausting. And on top of that, his grandparents from both sides had come over to celebrate Hannuka. Which meant four elderly Persians asking when he was going to stop wearing face paint. And get a wife.

Ugh. A wife.

Mahogany was 17 years old, the prospect of college was way more pressing than shacking up with some girl.

"And what do you want to do for college, Mirza?" Mahogany winced even now at the mention of his given name. Something he'd changed when he was 14 and never looked back. Mahogany was just so much more... glamorous. But Mahogany had answered through the wince with an answer that he had at the ready.

"I'm going to go to DCU for business."

"And then?" His maternal grandfather raised an eyebrow over his sherry.

"And then... I'm going to start my own makeup business."

Both grandmothers had exclaimed like he pledged his intention to saw a child in half. He knew that it was coming, but that didn't make the oncoming lecture from both grandfather's any more palatable.

"Mirza, you cannot spend your life on foolish ventures. The ventures of a woman no less."

"Yes, perhaps when you marry your wife will be able to do this for you. Make the venture more suitable for a man of your... er..."

"Station."

"Yes, station."

Mahogany had tuned the rest out, turning to glance instead at Arash who sat bemusedly at his side, eyebrows nearly in his hairline while he sipped his own cordial. His cheeks were already flushed with his previous two helpings, a deep damask color beneath his dark skin.

"You'd better pay attention Mirza-joon. I won't be able to stop the old farts beating you if they catch you daydreaming."

Mahogany had swiftly turned his attention back to his grandfathers. And his father, who had been sitting silently while they tore into him.

The memory caused Mahogany to click his acrylics irritatedly against his cardboard cup in a frantic butterfly beat. The man had been silent the whole time. Of course Mahogany understood that no matter how old a Persian got, no matter their stations, the words of the elders were as gospel. And it would have been heresy for Gaspar to speak out against his father but... would it have been so much for him to pull Mahogany aside afterward and tell him that he was perfectly valid in chasing his dream. That it didn't matter what anyone thought, if it was what he wanted, then it was right. Instead, his father went to bed and Arash was the one to followed Mahogany to his room despite Mahogany's protests and make sure he was alright. Arash that said shut up for a second, idiot, and listen to me.

Not his father but...

"Arash?"

The carnival didn't really seem like his scene, but then again there was Arash, waiting in the distance, his nose in his phone. Had he always been that tall? And that lean? He leaned against a wall, his body a long line of corded wool and denim. Now it was Mahogany's turn to color as he glanced down, his phone going off as Arash put his own back int his pocket.



No. No he most certainly was not busy. And Arash knew exactly what he was doing and how he was standing and what he was standing under.



Arash was looking at his phone when Mahogany crossed the distance between then, grabbed his face between his hands, and slammed his glittering red, hydraulic-acid-filled lips right into his best friend's and damn the consequences.

Except for that Mahogany pulled away and he hadn't ruined his lipstick on his best friend but instead on a complete stranger.

And a woman, at that.

Mahogany gaped for a second, mouth hanging agape at what he had just done, and then his expression morphed into one of consternation over who he thought he was kissing and the fact that he was not only disappointed that it wasn't Arash, but a little off put that it had been a girl.

Wait... off put?

"Ah... sorry... you're not... who I thought... you were..."