The dragonflies tattoist - Freenbecky ☆𝆬

Chapter 22

In their seventh month together, they made love for the first time.

It started like any other day, because big moments don't come with fanfare. Freen arrived early at the tattoo shop, Becky came in right on time, and a few clients cycled through, each leaving with her mark.

At five, they wrapped up and headed to their usual restaurant. But this time, they didn't sit at the center table or the one they used when Eve joined them. They chose a table off to the side, close enough not to be ignored but far enough to escape the spotlight.

Becky was wearing a blue T-shirt and loose gray pants with sneakers. No beanie, no sunglasses, no jacket, and none of her usual black. The air of aloofness had softened. Yet, the unicorn was still there.

"Do you know what month it is?" Becky asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling a little as she rested her chin on her hands.

Freen no longer focused on the bandages on Becky's wrists. I guess she'd learned to accept them.

"February?" Freen replied, a bit unsure.

"Do you know what that means?"

"What... it's February?"

Becky laughed softly, shaking her head slowly.

"The first time we met was February, baby," Becky reminded her. "I bet you remember. I looked incredibly sexy that day."

Freen did remember, though the memory had blurred over time. Funny how we sometimes lose sight of the most important moments.

"I still don't understand why you didn't choose Meena or Prae's designs," Freen murmured with a warm smile.

"I told you once, my love. Your tattoos were the only ones that had what I was looking for."

"I think I've asked you what exactly you were looking for."

Becky lifted the corner of her mouth in a small smile, gazing at her before reaching to stroke Freen's cheek. Freen took her hand and kissed the soft skin over her knuckles.

"I was looking for love," Becky admitted. "I wasn't after the world's best tattoo or some artist obsessed with skulls and demons. I needed someone whose work had the same love I felt for my grandmother. And I know love, and I know art, baby. Maybe I was tough, but the love I had for every painting I created was absolutely pure. Still is. I needed a pure work of art, filled with love and passion. Maybe I needed a pure artist, too."

Freen was about to respond with something thoughtful, but their usual waiter arrived with their order just in time.

The Becky from their first date would have waved him away impatiently. But this Becky simply thanked him.

"I love you," Freen said as she watched the artist pop a piece of sushi into her mouth.

Becky looked at her with her green eyes, smiling with a sweetness like a kid who just heard there was no school tomorrow.

And for the first time, Becky didn't eat her sushi like it was the best thing in the world. The best thing in the world was right in front of her.

"What's all this about?"

"It's just that I really do," Freen answered. "Becky, in those books I read, the ones where everything makes sense, people fall in love and somehow work through their issues. They save each other from some terrible danger, stop being serial killers, or magically cure their cancer. Sometimes I wonder if it's really love or if they're just in debt to each other. And I wondered about the people who already had good lives, who were happy. Like... what happens to the twenty-year-old tattoo artist with ten siblings who has a pretty great life, even without all the luxuries?"