#oohhhh

It starts because Francis is offended by how little effort Henry puts into taking care of himself. The man barely sleeps, lives on caffeine and cigarettes, and thinks bar soap is an acceptable facial cleanser. Francis, appalled, decides that this cannot stand.

So, naturally, he takes it upon himself to fix it.

Henry does not care about skincare. He does not see the point of paying for a product when soap and water exist. But Francis is insistent. He tells Henry that his skin is tragic, that it will crack like an old bookbinding if he doesn’t start using moisturizer, that he looks exhausted (Henry is exhausted, but that’s beside the point).

Henry ignores him. So Francis escalates.

One evening, when Henry is sitting at his desk, Francis strolls in with a bag of absurdly expensive products and slams them down with the kind of flair only he can manage. Henry barely glances up from his book. Francis huffs, sits on the desk, and starts reading the labels dramatically—words like hyaluronic acid, peptide infusion, anti-aging formula—half just to see if he can get a reaction.

Henry doesn’t react.

Francis sighs, rolls up his sleeves, and takes matters into his own hands.

Henry tolerates it, mostly out of resignation. Francis scrubs his face (unnecessarily rough, Henry thinks), applies a ridiculous number of serums, and insists on massaging moisturizer into Henry’s skin with the dedication of someone performing an ancient ritual.

And the worst part? The absolute worst part?

It works.

The next morning, Henry’s skin is noticeably smoother, which means Francis wins, and he’s never going to let Henry live it down.

im still so fuicking metnally ill for this shit head everything sucks everything sucks

edit naah nahhh his ears are sp nimated in this oeughhhhfosfo;soifu;xcoi;fgo;xidfoisdogvdsiog