marked.

Silent Tattoos

"Alright," I concluded as I threw my extremely light NorthFace over my back. "Stay. Here. At least until I get back from school. Call me if anything."

Sam nodded uncontrollably, like an over-obedient puppy. "I got it, Dani. Just go waste eight hours of your life stuck in front of demons who know how to present a good lecture."

I chuckled at he thought. Samantha knew exactly how I felt about these teachers and more. "I'm glad you know." After I left Samantha a few things to do, eat, and gave her a mom-like speech, I headed out. I knew I should had stayed with her, but the tattoo-racist principle will get on my nerves once again by challenging me throughout the day. The minute I closed the gate, I voice let out.

"Hey tattoos."

I already knew who it was. I didn't even need to turn my head to know who the ever-so-annoying voice belonged to. "Still following me around, Sean?"

He shrugged with book bag hanging on one shoulder. "I wanted to see how you were doing since that whole... Episode, lasts night."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

Sean shrugged again. "Think of it as a gesture of gratitude."

I gave him a weird look with my eyebrows raised. I'm not sure I'm a fan of the "nice" Mr. Harper. I have more fun when he pisses me off. Though, instead of arguing, I nodded and began to cross the street. Sean followed close behind before taking a couple glances back at my apartment, as if he were bound to find something just staring at him.

"Looking for something... Or even, someone?" I ask.

He shook his head as he leaped an extra three steps in order to catch up with me. I guess "Tattoos" is a little too fast for him. Just as he finally kept along with my pace, the school was only about 30 yards away. Sean softly held to my elbow and stopped me.

"I'll meet you on the top floor," he proposed. I only nodded, still a little jumpy from the sudden touching. Sean jogged around to the other side just as I reached the front doors. It was still early, (as usual) so I did a quick run to my locker. Thankfully, my locker is placed in one of the more abandoned hallways of the second floor. But the minute I sped-walked in to turning the corner, I was automatically stopped by a pair of hands. Those hands grabbed my shoulders so suddenly, I practically almost crashed into the body next to me. Once my focus comes back, I realize it's Marco.

"I thought you had a couple days off," I tell him, looking at the stiff boot he was still wearing. Marco just looked at me and smiled; it wasn't one of those casual smiles, but something that reminded me of one of those dumb looking smirks that signal that the person was about to do something. And he did. His soft hands raised up to my cheeks and he leaned forward. I let him kiss me, as his thumb strokes my cheek. Once he lets me go, I look straight into the beautiful green landscape that remains his eyes... Wait, did I just say that?

"How's that for a hello?!" He half-shouts, blushing incredibly.

I smiled, showing teeth as I chuckled at his smart comments. "It's good," I tell him, practically teasing.

The heat in his cheeks still has not calmed down, but he still manages to keep his cool. Almost automatically, he grabs my hand and walks with me to my locker. Of course, it took twice as long to get there, due to the fact that he had no choice but to waddle his way to my destination.

"So... How's your leg?"

He stands there for a quick moment as if he needed to think about it. "Well enough to the point where I can walk. But it's alright," he nods reassuringly as I shove my books into my locker. "It's still operational."

I look at him and realize the hidden struggle he was facing just for standing up too long. "Need to sit down?" I ask as my hand shoots for his inked arm. I notice that the part that I grabbed was lettering work done in a different language. Spanish. Before I help him reach a hallway bench, I read the lettering. "Who's Amaya? And why is this talking about Jay?" I ask as Marco skids his way to the cerulean-colored bench.

"I got a part of this letter my mom wrote to me tattooed on this part of my arm just above my elbow. It was before she, you know... Left. I was still learning to walk when she wrote that." He took a long look at me and drew a quick breath. "She told me to promise her to look after Jay, to be there for my family... Amaya, well, Amaya is my mother."

I sat there I complete silence. I try to imagine a grown woman writing this letter to a toddler, fulfilling him with a destiny that he is yet to commit to. I failed to empathize, but I succeeded in the art of imagining.

Marco just takes my hand and observes it through my silence. There wasn't much I could say, so my best bet was to say nothing of the sort. I thought about everything he had been through, why he has some of the tattoos he has, but I couldn't come up with a reason why it happened to him, why it was happening to him. So I stay quiet.

Just. Quiet.