Colors

Duo

"Where are we?" I asked, adjusting my dress.
"This, Ventus, is a tattoo parlor. The real place to get initiated as a Black."
"I'm still so confused," I muttered. "So, the Blacks aren't actually killed, they have a secret society formed that nobody else knows about?"
"Yeah, more or less," he replied, pulling his shirt back on. "C'mon, show your bravery. Get something bold."
Why was I getting a tattoo? I was thirteen, after all. But then I thought about my new life ahead. I glanced at his back, now covered by his shirt. The letters of his tattoo swirled around and filled up almost his whole back. It was beautiful, but maybe a bit too large for me.
"I want this one," I said to the tattoo artist, pointing to a page. "Between my shoulder bones in my back."
"Nice choice," the artist replied.
The tattoo said videre pulchritudinem debetis fortitudo, which means "to see beauty you must feel strength." I was inspired by the quote.
"Well, Ventus, he can't do your tattoo while you're wearing all your clothes," the boy told me, smirking.
"Ugh, what's your deal anyway? I don't even know your name," I replied, groaning.
"If I told you my name, you'd laugh," he told me, rubbing his neck and looking sheepishly at the ground.
"No I wouldn't. You know that."
"No I don't. Well, now I do, I guess."
"Just tell me. The faster you tell me, the faster I can get my tattoo."
"Benignus. My name is Benignus."
I was silent.
"What would I laugh at that?"
"It's just... Never mind. Most people call me Ben anyways, and you can too. Now, you have to get your tattoo."
I nodded and looked at my dress. Plain, simple, boring, lifeless, dry.
"Can I have some scissors?" I asked. After being handed the scissors, I poked a hole in the seam of the dress that held it together midway. Then, with precise hands, I snipped until I couldn't reach any farther. Not caring anymore, I tore the rest of the fabric to create two separate pieces.
Ben and the tattoo artist stared at me, stared at my clothing (which now fit way too loose) , and at my hand, which was still holding the scissors. Oh, right. I'm a lefty.
I stared back at them, daring them to break eye contact, daring them to flinch as I suddenly stepped forward.
"You're still wearing a shirt and skirt. Cutting your dress won't help," Ben told me, sneering slightly. I walked up to him, took off my shirt, and threw it at him. He stared at me in awe as I sat down backwards in the chair, now wearing only a bra and remnants of the bottom half of my dress.
"Happy?" I asked, gripping the sides of the chair for support. Ben sat down in front of me, and grabbed my hand.
"Nervous?" he asked back, avoiding the question.
"Yeah, I gotta admit, it's not everyday that your escort leads you to a tattoo parlor minutes after your Reveal."
Ben shook his head, staring into my dull eyes. I looked into his, pools of an electrifying blue color.
I felt the first prick of the needle as it went in, and flinched slightly. Ben adjusted the chair to a laying-down position, but I stayed sitting up as Ben sat on the opposite end of the chair. The chair was in a laying-down position, but we were both sitting up. He took both of my hands in his, and I begged myself not to cry.
"You okay?" Ben asked. I nodded, and glanced down at our hands. His fingers were making little circles on my hands, which comforted me.
After what seemed like a decade and a half later, the tattoo artist yelled out, "halfway done!" which made me groan. Ben began talking to me to keep me distracted.
"So, I know we just met and all, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out sometime? Like... On a date?"
I paused, looking at Ben's hopeful face. He scooted towards me, his eyes scanning my face for any signs of a positive response.
"Well...I mean..."
"Come on! Please, I promise I'll-"
"Yes."
"-I'll be a loyal...wait, what?"
"Yes, I said," I Laughed, grinning. "I'll go out with you."
"Really? Oh, I Could just kiss you right now! I can't believe you actually said yes!"
"Well, I did."
"Yup."
We sat in silence for a few more minutes until the tattoo artist announced he was done.
I stood up and looked at the tattoo in the mirror. The letters were about half an inch tall and, like Bens, they swirled around and went as far down as my mid-back. It was beautiful.
"Thank you so much!" I exclaimed, hugging the tattoo artist. He nodded and whispered something in Ben's ear. Ben nodded from his seat, and whispered something back.
"I'll leave you two alone for a while," the man said, and left, turning off all but one of the lights.
"Oh God," I muttered, sitting back down across from Ben. His shaggy dark hair hung slightly over his eyebrows, and his quirky smile was so intriguing.
"How old are you, anyway?" I asked Ben.
"Fourteen and a half, to be exact," he replied. I laughed, fascinated by his whole personality.