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"𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥, 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 you wanna go through this?" Roger asks me for the fifth time today. "Bubba, it's a small tattoo on my left side, I'll be fine." I assure. "I know, but you know what people say about how much it hurts. It's gonna be there for life." he states. "Okay?" I chuckle. "I know it will. It's only a small star on my side nothing too drastic." "Why are you even getting it?" he questions. "A star means ambition or success." I state. "And I do indeed have ambition that the band will be a success. Oh- and I want a permanent reminder that we came here together." I could see the visible blissful smile on his face, "And you had the cheek to call me sappy." "Right," I begin. "I may be the sappiest one out of us, but you will always be the most grumpiest."
"Me? Grumpy?" he raises an eyebrow. "Brian's grumpy!" He sulks and folds his arms. "Well, now you're just proving my statement." I grin. "Okay-" he cuts himself off. "Let's get back to you. Are you sure you want to have this done?" "Roger, if you ask me again, I might scream. Yes!" I grit my teeth. "Ooh, that sounds pretty promising." he winks. "Not in public." I whisper. "Let alone a tattoo parlour." "I swear that has never bothered you before." he frowns. "Listen, I'm trying to get in my zone." I speak. "Okay, everything's set up." the tattoo artist, Bliss, tells me. "Here we go." I murmur to myself and I lay on the comfortable bench I was told to park on.
Bliss seemed friendly. She was like your typical tattoo artist, near enough covered with her own. She was born for punk, her hair was short and blue and rocked the eyebrow and lips piercing she had. Though she wasn't much older than me and Roger, she was totally my idol. I adored her sense of style and they way she was completely carefree.
