𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, Lydia Martin

01 | abstract (physchopomp)

"the fear in it's eyes
gone out in an instant"
 - Hozier

"BOY," TOBIAS' HEAD SNAPPED UP LIKE A STARTLED ANIMAL, eyes wide as he instinctively turned toward the voice. He relaxed slightly when he realized the buff man wasn't talking to him, though he still tried to play off the fact that he'd just been snapping a picture of the flash sheets to send to his sister. Casually, he moved to inspect the tattooing machine next to Scott instead.

"Good thing you drew me a picture."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scott shoot the artist a mischievous smile. Tobias, remembering the design he'd been shown earlier—right before jumping into Stiles' Jeep—couldn't help but scoff out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"Hey, Scott," Stiles called, holding up a binder and flipping it around to reveal a sketch of a kanima. His grin was bright, clearly pleased with his find. "Sure you don't want something like this instead?"

The excited expression on his face immediately dropped when the only reactions he got were a sigh from Scott and a wince from Tobias.

"Too soon?" he asked, then sighed at his own question, swiping through the binder with a disappointed huff.

"Just wait until the next disaster hits," Tobias said, patting his shoulder. "I'll laugh with you about it then." He stayed by the sarcastic brunet's side as the tattoo artist took his place next to Scott. "For now, we can just watch as our friend permanently alters his body in a decision he'll probably regret within the next month. Fun." He shot Scott an overly enthusiastic grin.

"I'm not changing my mind," Scott insisted, grinning right back. "Plus, didn't you you say you had a tattoo? You're sounding awfully hypocritical there, Tobes." He nudged him lightly with his foot.

"And it's because I have one that I'm telling you this," Tobias deadpanned. "Ten year old me had no business trying to stick-and-poke a dinosaur onto his ankle." 

The tattoo artist let out a snort-laugh as he prepared his equipment. 

"Seriously, Scott. I made a kid cry once when he saw it. It's monstrous, and not in the cool way I intended."

"Well, it's a good thing you're here as moral support and not the tattoo artist, then," Scott teased.

"Speaking of," Stiles cut in, squinting at Tobias. "Dino boy—"

Tobias immediately glared at him for the nickname.

"Why are you even here?" Stiles continued. "You and Isaac were basically attached at the hip all summer. Did he finally realize how annoying you are?"

Scott didn't add anything, but his curious stare made it clear he was wondering the same thing.

Tobias shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. "I've been busy with the internship and getting ready for school again. He probably has, too. Haven't seen him in a few days." He ignored the nagging worry creeping in at the thought of his unanswered texts. Quickly, he steered the conversation away from himself. "Now, as much as I love talking about me, I'm curious—why two bands?"

"I just like it." 

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?" Stiles prodded, ever the nosy one.

"It already has more meaning than having a terrible dinosaur tattoo made by a ten year-old." Scott shot back. "Besides, getting a tattoo means something."