In the eighth month, she fell apart.
The warning signs had been there, but not with the crash of a storm, more like the slow ticking of time. And Freen had missed the signals her relationship with the painter was giving her. The sunglasses, the beanie, the jacket, the bandages on her wrists, the colors, the shoes, the way they sat in specific places. She'd overlooked so much.
The day began as it had for the past month: with Freen in Becky's arms. Milika and Somchai never asked about her constant absences, they already knew. All they wanted was a message to confirm she was safe and sound.
"Time to wake up, Supasap," Becky murmured sleepily against her neck, her morning voice gravelly. Freen groaned, turning her head deeper into the pillow.
She didn't want to wake up. She didn't want to go to work.
"Chankimha," she corrected, half asleep.
"That's not what your passport says," Becky chuckled, trailing kisses along her bare back.
"I know," Freen muttered. "But can you please forget about my passport? I hate the name Freen Sarocha Supasap. It's like being adopted by someone with the last name... Penis."
"Supasap's nowhere near as bad as Penis."
"It's just an example. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't love being called Rebecca Penis when you're a lover of vaginas" Freen trailed off with a laugh.
She turned to find Becky looking at her with a playful smirk.
"I'm not a lover of... vaginas," Becky protested instantly, her grin wide and adorable.
"Well, you better be! I don't think I'm hiding anything else down there."
"I'm a lover of one vagina, babe. Yours..."
"Oh my god, Becky!" Freen pulled back in mock disgust, laughing. "I can't believe you just said that."
"I have no filter, Chankimha," Becky defended herself, standing up and giving Freen a perfect view of her bare back and the curves below. "Now, get moving, or you're going to be late."
"Nice tattoos," Freen said flirtatiously, biting her lower lip as her heart started to race. "Five pretty dragonflies. You should introduce me to your tattoo artist."
"Don't take me for a fool, love. I know you're not looking at my back."
She was right.
_____
Freen Chankimha arrived early, greeted her coworkers, tattooed a few designs, let Rebecca Armstrong sketch her, and tattooed some more. It was an ordinary day. The last of them.
After finishing their meal at their usual spot, Freen told Milika she'd be spending the night with Becky. All she got in response was a cool "Fine."
But they didn't head straight to Becky's place. They returned to the shop.
"What are we doing here?" Becky whispered as they entered, the lights flickering on.
"Don't worry. I got Danai's permission for this. I just think my wall needs a couple of adjustments."
And that night, the mural on her wall, the one featuring Demi, One Direction, Ed Sheeran, and her siblings, gained a unicorn and a dragon kissing on the edge of the 'F.'
It was them.
Or rather... they were.
_____
They made love that night.
Becky moaned against Freen's neck, Freen dug her nails into her girlfriend's pale back, the bed's creaking woke the downstairs neighbor, Freen's climax echoed off the walls, Becky showed off her skills, roles were reversed... It was a good night.
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The dragonflies tattoist - Freenbecky ☆𝆬
FanfictionFreen Sarocha left her mark on people's skin. Rebecca Armstrong left her mark on Freen's heart... forever. _____ FreenBecky converted. TW: self-harm, suicide. Original story by ©AllysonDeVil The translation was done by me. English isn't my first la...