Enter the Make-Up Artist
1319 Words
Minho adjusted the straps of his worn leather makeup bag as he stood outside the ECLIPSE practice studio, steadying his breath. He’d worked with big names before—rising rookies and even some solo legends—but ECLIPSE was different. They were at the top of the game, commanding sold-out arenas and breaking streaming records like it was nothing.
He reached for the doorknob, then paused, taking one last deep breath. “Fighting,” he whispered, before stepping inside.
The door swung open with a gentle click, revealing a room buzzing with the residual energy of practice. The air smelled faintly of sweat and stage lights, of hard work and frayed nerves.
Minho’s eyes immediately fell on Jace—the group’s resident bad boy—lounging against the wall with a towel draped around his neck. His hair clung to his forehead in damp strands, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He looked up, eyes narrowing, and Minho felt the force of that gaze hit him like a punch.
“Who are you?” Jace’s voice dripped with disinterest, but Minho caught the undercurrent of challenge.
“I’m Minho,” he said with a polite bow. “Your new makeup artist.”
A ripple of interest passed through the other members.
Hyunwoo—Jung Hyunwoo, the group’s main vocalist with the smile that could light up a stadium—stood up and grinned. “Annyeong, Minho-ssi! Welcome to the ECLIPSE family.”
Minho returned the smile, warm and genuine. “Thank you, Hyunwoo-ssi. It’s great to meet you all.”
Kwon Daehyun, the leader and eldest member, stepped forward. He exuded a quiet confidence, his eyes kind but steady. “I’m Daehyun. Thanks for joining us. You’ll have your hands full.”
“No worries,” Minho replied. “I’ve worked with some high-maintenance idols before.”
A laugh rang out from the corner. It belonged to Choi Jaemin, the group’s lead dancer, whose bright, mischievous energy radiated like sunlight. “Did you just call us high-maintenance?” he teased, his grin infectious.
Minho’s lips curved. “If the shoe fits, Jaemin-ssi.”
Jaemin threw his head back in laughter. “Hyung, I like him already.”
Park Seojun, the group’s youngest and main rapper—boyish, with an easy charm that belied his fierce on-stage persona—gave Minho a thumbs up. “Just don’t make me look like a clown and we’ll be good, hyung.”
“I promise,” Minho said with a wink.
Jace rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall. “You all done kissing his a*s?”
Daehyun shot him a look. “Yah, Jace. Be nice.”
Jace scoffed, but his gaze lingered on Minho for a beat too long before he turned away.
Hyunwoo cleared his throat. “Minho-ssi, let me introduce everyone properly. That’s Jace—our resident rebel, but don’t let the attitude fool you.”
“Whatever,” Jace muttered.
“That’s Daehyun-hyung, our leader. The calm in our chaos,” Hyunwoo continued, his voice affectionate.
Daehyun gave Minho a small bow. “I’ll try to keep these kids in line for you.”
Minho grinned. “I appreciate it.”
“Jaemin’s our lead dancer and mood-maker. If you need laughs, he’s your guy,” Hyunwoo said.
“Annyeong!” Jaemin chimed, giving a double thumbs-up.
“And finally, Seojun—our maknae. He’s a brat but we love him.”
“Yah, hyung!” Seojun protested, but his grin was playful.
Minho laughed, the warmth of their camaraderie already easing his nerves. “I look forward to working with all of you.”
Hyunwoo’s eyes sparkled. “We’re glad to have you. Let’s get you settled.”
He led Minho to a small dressing table near the studio’s far wall, a clutter of hair spray, sweat towels, and open water bottles scattered across it. Minho set down his kit, carefully unzipping it to reveal neatly organized brushes, powders, and palettes.
“You’re very organized,” Hyunwoo remarked, peering over his shoulder.
Minho chuckled. “It comes with the job. Chaos backstage is bad enough without messy brushes.”
Hyunwoo leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Five years,” Minho replied, selecting a brush with practiced precision. “I started in small salons, then moved to entertainment gigs. I’ve worked with rookies and seniors—though you guys are on another level.”
Hyunwoo beamed. “We try our best.”
Minho turned, brush in hand, and his gaze landed on Jace, who had sunk into a chair, arms folded tightly across his chest. “You’re up first, Jace-ssi,” he said, voice calm and professional.
Jace’s eyes flicked up to meet his, sharp and guarded. “Don’t mess it up.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “I don’t.”
There was a beat of silence, then Jace sighed, unfolding his arms and letting Minho angle his face toward the light.
Up close, Jace’s features were even more striking—high cheekbones, a strong nose, lips that looked almost too soft for someone with such a hard edge. Minho felt a flicker of nerves, but he quickly buried it beneath years of practiced detachment.
He dipped his brush into a light foundation, his fingers steady as he worked. “You have good skin,” he murmured. “Makes my job easy.”
Jace let out a noncommittal grunt.
Minho’s hands moved deftly, blending foundation, setting powder, a touch of concealer to cover the shadows beneath Jace’s eyes. Jace’s gaze remained fixed on a point beyond Minho’s shoulder, but Minho could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he held himself like a coiled spring.
“You know,” Minho said, voice gentle, “you don’t have to look so angry all the time.”
Jace’s eyes snapped to his, dark and unreadable. “I’m not angry,” he lied.
Minho met his gaze calmly. “Sure. And I’m a rabbit.”
A snort of laughter escaped Seojun from the other side of the room. “Hyung, he’s got you pegged.”
“Shut up, Seojun,” Jace muttered, but his lips twitched ever so slightly.
Minho smiled, a small victory. “All done,” he said, stepping back. “Want to take a look?”
Jace stood, moving to the mirror. He examined his reflection critically, turning his head left and right. His features were sharp yet softened subtly by Minho’s skillful hand.
“Not bad,” he finally muttered, though his tone was grudging.
Minho smirked. “High praise from the great Jace.”
Jace’s eyes met his in the mirror, a glint of challenge sparking between them. “Don’t get cocky.”
Minho held his gaze. “I won’t if you won’t.”
A hush settled over the room, tension crackling like a live wire. Then Hyunwoo clapped his hands together, breaking the moment.
“Okay, my turn!” he sang, bouncing over to the chair with a bright grin.
Minho laughed, the charged atmosphere dissolving. “Of course, Hyunwoo-ssi. Let’s get you camera-ready.”
As Minho worked, he listened to the easy banter between the members—Jaemin teasing Seojun about his hair, Daehyun reminding everyone of tomorrow’s schedule, Hyunwoo humming softly under his breath. It felt like stepping into a family—messy, chaotic, but warm in a way Minho hadn’t expected.
Still, his mind drifted back to Jace—the sharp eyes, the unspoken challenge, the wall he kept between himself and everyone else. Minho couldn’t help but wonder what lay beneath that hard shell.
He’d met many idols, each with their own masks and defenses, but something about Jace felt different—like there was a story there waiting to be told.
And for the first time in a long while, Minho found himself wanting to know that story.
- Writer
