Roses [h.s]

Chapter 22

"I can't believe you talked me into this, Harry." I say as I wince at the shot of pain, blinking my eyes shut as if not seeing anything will make it hurt less.

"This was your idea." He replies, and even though my eyes are closed I can tell that he's smiling at me. I wish I could slap him, but I can't move and instead I huff in annoyance. "If it's any consolation, it hurts for me too."

"You're such a liar."

I gasp, when there's another sudden wave of pain, and I twitch without warning.

"Sorry." I say, my eyes flashing open and looking down to where the tattoo artist had just pressed the needle into the skin of my forearm. Her smile is tight as she pauses, and I can tell she's irritated, but she still mutters "that's okay" before going back in to add the finishing touches.

I'm certain I can hear Harry snickering next to me, in the chair just over, but I don't turn to look at him, too afraid of jostling too much. Instead, I watch the tattoo artist going over the stem of the rose where it runs down the length of my scar.

It hadn't taken much convincing on Harry's part to get me to agree to getting matching tattoos, he was right in saying that the tattoo was technically my idea, but he was the one who suggested us going and getting one together. I know that they always say not to get one with your partner, that it's practically a curse and will doom the relationship, but that didn't put me off in the slightest. Probably because the tattoo isn't for Harry or me, but for my mum. So even though we've only been "official" – I shudder at the term, it seems so childish – for less than a week, we're already getting a matching tattoo. Sort of matching, at least. The design and placement are different but they're both roses, mum's favourite flower.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the tattoo artist does one final pass near my wrist before putting the machine down. I don't open my eyes until I hear the vibrations cut off, because at least then I can be certain that we're finished.

"All done." She says, wiping off the ink and cleaning the area. I glance over at Harry, seeing that his going through the same thing now. He's already looking at me and he smiles as I look over. I can't help but smile back, it's become almost a reflex now. This past week has just been non-stop smiling at Harry; when he bought me breakfast the night after he slept over, when he convinced me we had to go tell his mum about us only an hour later, when he took me back to the bakery for our first "official" date. Despite all my reservations about telling him I loved him, this past week was nothing but smiles and laughter.

"Thanks." I reply when the woman indicates that I can get up now and have look. I head over to the mirror, equally nervous and excited to see the result. The lady comes to stand beside me, just off to the side, waiting for me to look. I take in a small breath, as if this was a life changing moment, and slowly turn my arm toward the mirror.

My hand flies up to my mouth to stifle a small sob as I glance between the mirror and my arm. It's nothing intricate, a straight stemmed rose done in simple linework, no shading, taking up only about half of my forearm. The stem starts close to the base of my wrist, following the line of my scar before the head of the rose appears, just beginning to bloom. It's simple, and beautiful and exactly what mum would've liked, and it makes me want to cry.

I look up from my arm, to look at in the mirror again, as if they're two different things, and see Harry walking towards me smiling softly. I can see the red raw skin and dark ink where his rose is, and as he comes closer, stopping beside me in the mirror I can finally make it out. It's on the outside of his left arm, just under the ship tattoo he has. His is shaded, more detailed but it's still just as beautiful, and so him. Seeing it makes me want to cry more.