Dying and Everything in between

16| Doomed from the start

─── ･｡•̩̩͙˚｡✧: *. .*:✧•̩̩͙･ﾟ｡───

It was around 5 am when Lucas found himself standing in front of a shady, back-alley tattoo parlor, illuminated by soft, yellow lamps inside, and bright, neon purple signs on the outside.

"How do you know this place exists?" Lucas asked when the duo stood in front of the shop. He brought his hands close to his lips, rubbing them together as he blew over them.

Joy seemed to notice and draped her hands around his arm, pulling him close to her side. "I came here a year ago."

"But you don't have any tattoos?" Lucas craned down to get a better look at her face.

"You sure about that?" Joy grinned, the skin around her nose crinkling. She tugged at the lobe of Lucas's ear. He yelped, scowling as he slapped her hands away.

"I've seen you in short sleeves," Lucas said, his fingers hooking over Joy's wrist.

"But you haven't seen my leg." Joy winked at him.

"Makes sense." Lucas shrugged.

"C'mon," She said with a toothy, hearty smile. "Let's get matching ones."

"Matching ones?" Lucas stood his ground despite Joy tugging him forward. He raised an eyebrow at her, "Don't people say any relationship is automatically doomed once they get matching tattoos?"

"We were already doomed from the start, Andrews," Joy said soberly.

At that, a part of his chest crumbled realizing that she was true. A tattoo curse would be the least of their worries.

"Fine," Lucas hesitantly gave in, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. "But nothing big. I don't wanna freak out my funeral coroner with a massive tattoo on my ass or something."

"Of course," Joy left his side to hold the door open for him. She grinned and gestured at the entrance. "We'll get small ones. Not on our asses. I have a plan."

"Wow. I don't get to choose my own tattoo?" He snickered softly, following her into the small studio.

He surveyed the room, not at all surprised by the black and dark purple theme, and the fact that most of the tattoo tables were in the cramped area behind the reception desk.

"You can get another one if you want," Joy said. "Depends if you can take the pain."

"I get poked with needles every other day," He muttered. "Pain is the least of my worries."

He tried to ignore the way Joy knowing look at his comment. Lucas averted his gaze straight ahead, knowing she didn't want to get into this conversation now. This was the last thing he wanted to think about. Of all things, he just wanted to think like a normal, idiotic human... for once.

"Well, hello there!" Luckily, the silence between them didn't last for long when someone emerged from a back door situated at the far end of the studio.

The man was a lanky individual with short, parted strawberry-blonde hair. He was wearing a tie-dyed blue shirt, black, ripped skinny jeans, and an assortment of jewelry on his fingers, ears, and a thin chain around his neck.

Lucas's brows drew together, watching as he sat on the edge of the reception desk, and right between his thin fingers lit a burning cigarette.

"Joy! And a friend!" He mused, a puff of gray smoke slipping past his lips. "It's been a while. Where have you been? How's Anderson doing?"