A/N: so i was goin through my files and came across this old story i wrote, like, two years ago. it was originally about a girl named juliana who meets a guy named ryan, but i mean, phan... so i turned it into a phanfic and blegh here we are now... random spur-of-the-moment story editing and i mean... it's a whatever kind of story so do with it what you want... leave comments or whatever man idek
"Hey, Daniel!" Chelsea called to me from her office. She loved to tease me with my first name. I stepped into the doorway as I watched Chelsea rummage through her filing cabinets to find some papers. "I know it's here somewhere... ah hah!" I heard her mutter. Twiddling my thumbs, I watched as Chelsea whipped out some papers and set them down on the desk in between us. "So dude, do you think you could add on Monday nights to your schedule? I know you're piled up as is, but Dallas broke his wrist and needs a cast for the next few months, so his shift is out... think you could work it? I'll double your salary."
I looked down at my palms, which were now clammy and sweaty. I got really nervous about telling Chelsea the truth about where I am Monday nights. "Dude... you okay?" I heard her say somewhere in my thoughts. "What? Uh, erm, yeah... yeah, I'm cool, but I can't work those shifts. I'm always somewhere Monday nights."
Chelsea wrote 'something' down on her papers and I looked down at the floor, utterly embarrassed. "You sure you're okay, dude? You know you can always come to me when you have problems and crap. I'm always here for you," she said, not looking up from crunching some numbers. "Huh? Oh yeah, I know, and I'm always very thankful that you're such a good supportive friend! I just-" I was interrupted suddenly by Max hollering into the office hallway. "Dan! If you're free you need to come out here! There's a guy waiting and I'm busy!" I heard him shout. "I should probably go do that," I said, backing awkwardly out of the office. Chelsea said she'd see me later at dinner break and I left. Phew.
Monday nights were a sore subject for me. Those were the nights I went to see my therapist, Dr. Crane. He was a weird old man with a few problems himself, but he really helped me out of a struggle I had inside myself years ago. Without his help, I don't think I'd still be here, about to give a middle-aged guy a tattoo. I just didn't like talking about it with people I didn't know all that well because it made me feel mental and insane, but I could only talk about it with my friends. They knew everything about me and supported me all the way with whatever decision I made in my life.
I went to my station, grabbing a tattoo design off my desk stool, and walked over to the table where the man was waiting. He asked for a tattoo of a wolf up his forearm, wrapping around at the ends by the shoulder bone. I worked weekday shifts at a tattoo parlor, Violin Ink. It's always very well kept, never dust in the corners or on shelves. We sell T-shirts and guitars with our logo and stickers with select tattoo designs on them, and every now and then we'd raffle off Warped Tour tickets or concerts for bands in town. I enjoy my job because I've always loved art and music, and our parlor is very music-based. It helps me take my mind off things, and doesn't feel like hard work.
"Hello sir, my name is Dan," I said, prepping the man for a tattoo.
* * *
"See you tomorrow!" I called to Max and Chelsea. They waved goodbye as I put on a beanie and left.
A wave of cold winter air hit my face. Yup, the weathermen were right about this one. Frostbitten winds whipped my cheeks as I made my way through the subtle snow to the car. It was barely even 5:00, yet the sun had already left the New York City skyscrapers and there was already snowfall.
Getting in and starting the engine, I pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the street.
I may have been driving on time, but traffic held me back. Even though my therapist was only a few blocks away, all the slow-paced vehicles made it farther than it already was.
