caleb with dry hands during winter.
and you're sitting on the couch, cuddling, when you get a good look at his hands. the backs are all cracked and red, as is the skin between his fingers.
you wiggle out of his grasp and stand up, drawing your boyfriend's shrewd gaze.
"where're you going, pips?" he asks, anxiety tinging the edges of his words. you just shake your head and dash off to your shared bedroom, leaving a confused puppy behind.
when you return, his interrogative gaze is unpacking the tube in your grasp. you plop down beside him and place his hands on your lap.
"hand cream," you say while showing it to him. this is the hand cream he bought you a few weeks ago when autumn transitioned into winter. you pop the cap and squeeze a decent amount onto the backs of his hands. then, you rub it in, your fingers kneading his flaky skin.
you soothe the lotion into his palms, his slender fingers and the crevices between one by one. as you focus on his right hand, his left picks up the open tube and squeezes a little on your knuckles.
you gaze up and catch the softness in his sunset eyes when he moisturises your hands as you do his. the cheesy rom-com playing on the tv fades into the background as your fingers intertwine.
leaning down, caleb rests his forehead against yours and sighs, "thanks, honey."
"mhmm, s'okay," you murmur, tipping your head back and pressing your lips against his.
at least those don't need moisturising.
masterlist
star girl's final words: it's winter in australiaaaaaa and my hands are dry af so take this peace offering my dears.
