Ink & Intrigue -jaden hossler

Chapter Two: Ink and Intrigue

Londen's POV

It had only been a few days since Jaden walked out of my studio, but he lingered in my mind in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I could still feel the press of his gaze as I’d worked, the softness in his eyes when he saw the finished tattoo on his skin. Usually, I could move on easily, each client a memory in the rearview. But this time was different. Jaden’s visit was more than just another appointment.

I was closing up the studio for the day, the warm glow of sunset streaming in through the front window, when the familiar chime above the door sounded. I glanced up, fully prepared to tell whoever it was that we were done for the day. But there he was, standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the last light of the day.

“Hey, Londen,” he said, flashing that half-smile, hands shoved casually in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Jaden?” I said, surprised. “Back already?”

“Yeah. I mean… I was just in the neighborhood,” he replied, his tone casual but his gaze steady. “Thought I’d see if you were around. And maybe, you know, get another piece.”

The way he looked at me told me this was more than a spur-of-the-moment idea. Something about him coming back so soon tugged at my curiosity. I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow as I leaned against the counter. “Alright, but don’t tell me you haven’t thought about what you want this time.”

He let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, that part’s still true. I’m honestly not sure… but I kind of liked what happened last time. So, how about we let you decide?”

I couldn’t help but smile. There was something refreshing about Jaden’s openness, his willingness to trust me to design without a plan. “You’re a brave guy, Hossler,” I replied, motioning him to follow me to the back of the studio. “Let’s see if I can come up with something fitting.”

He settled into the chair with a casual ease, letting his jacket slide off to reveal the tattoo I’d done a few days earlier, healed just enough to reveal the detail. I paused for a second, admiring the way it fit him, and quickly busied myself with setting up my sketchpad and pulling on gloves.

We spent the next few minutes in easy conversation as I sketched. Jaden had this way of making silence feel comfortable, and every so often, he’d ask about a sketch on the wall or a tattoo story. Finally, I showed him a rough sketch—a series of small, interconnected pieces: vines woven with stars, each shape telling a small story that, together, would be something meaningful. His eyes lit up with genuine admiration as he looked at the design.

“This… feels like me. It’s perfect,” he said, his voice soft, and in that moment, I saw the side of him that wasn’t the confident, carefree musician but a guy who wore his heart on his sleeve—even if he tried to hide it.

I nodded, trying to hide how much his reaction affected me. “Alright, then. Let’s get started.”

As I worked, the silence between us grew, settling into something more than just the absence of sound. It felt… charged, each buzz of the needle filling the air as I concentrated on the fine lines and details. Every now and then, I’d glance up to find him watching me, his eyes filled with something warm, unspoken.

“You know,” he murmured after a while, breaking the silence, “I’ve gotten tattoos before, but this feels… different. Like you’re actually adding pieces of me instead of just putting something on the surface.”

His words struck me, more than he could have known. I’d always believed that tattoos were a way of connecting with people in a way that went beyond words. But hearing him say it back to me, understanding it without explanation—it made my heart skip a beat.

“That’s the idea,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s what makes it art.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving me. “You don’t just see it as ink, do you?”

I swallowed, focusing on the lines, the steady hand movements that were second nature to me by now. “No, it’s… it’s more than that. It’s a way to tell a story without speaking.”

For a few minutes, he was silent, letting my words sink in. And as I worked, I couldn’t deny that, for the first time, I felt like someone understood me. Really understood me.

When I finished, I wiped away the last bit of ink and stepped back, giving him a moment to take it in. Jaden looked down at his arm, a small smile curving his lips as he traced a finger over the new piece.

“It’s amazing, Londen,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Really. Thank you.”

The warmth in his gaze caught me off guard, and for a moment, I felt myself stepping over a line I’d promised I’d never cross. I wasn’t supposed to get close to clients. I liked my solitude, my quiet, my focus on art, free from distraction or complications. But Jaden’s presence felt like a door opening—a risk I wasn’t sure I was ready to take.

As he paid and started to leave, he paused by the door, turning back with that same quiet smile. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I replied, a hint of a smile on my lips. “Guess you’re a regular now.”

With one last look, he disappeared into the night, leaving me in the silence of the studio, heart racing, pulse quickening. I tried to convince myself it was just another session, another client. But the truth was, the lines were already starting to blur. And something told me that, with Jaden, nothing would stay simple for long.