savior ≫ z.m. [completed]

28

**Callie POV**

Five days later, Zayn is out of the hospital. He still refuses to talk about how the accident happened, but I promised I would give him space.

"Why do I have to wear a cast?" Zayn whines. His leg is bound in a cast and his crutches lay beside him, leaning on the couch. There are bandages everywhere on his body, and I can't help but cringe at the sight of him every time.

The doctors helped him through a speedy recovery, and miraculously, nothing serious happened.

We were at Harry's apartment, and we were watching Inception. Harry and Danielle were completely absorbed in the movie, but I've already seen it about a million times, and so had Zayn.

"Callie," Zayn nudges me.

"Shhh!" Danielle scolds. "If you want to talk, go somewhere else," she waves her hands in the air, signaling for us to leave. We roll our eyes and head to my room, shutting the door. I sit on my bed and he does the same.

"So, um I was thinking," Zayn sighs, looking at his arms. "I need another tattoo," he confesses.

I stare down at his inked right arm. Zayn's collection of tattoos have always fascinated me. A grin creeps onto my face and I nod in agreement.

"I think you do too. And, so do I," I say. Zayn smiles at me and examines his own arm, probably planning where to get his new ink.

"What other tattoos do you have now other than the star on your finger?" he asks.

"A flock of birds on my collarbone, an anchor on the back of my neck, and the date that my dad died on my ankle," I reply.

"Do you know what you want to get?" Zayn asks. I nod. Reaching into my bag, I pull out my sketchbook and flip through the drawings.

"Wow, these are amazing," he breathes in amazement, taking the book away from me.

"They're nothing, really," I try to take the sketchbook back but he dodges me, flipping through the sketches in complete awe.

"Wow, this one is amazing," he whispers, his fingers tracing the shape of my soon-to-be tattoo. I know he's looking at the sketch of a feather, identical the one on Feel, the Sleeping with Sirens album.

"That's the one I want to get," I say quietly. He grins and looks up, meeting my eyes.

"It's perfect,"

~

"We're here," I say softly. He looks up from his phone and eyes the tattoo parlor wearily. The place is deserted, as usual. "This is where I got my first four. Let's go," I say, taking a deep breath. I always get nervous before getting a tattoo, even though I know how much it hurts.

"Are you ok?" he asks gently, stopping me before we walk into the parlor. I nod and open the door, and the tattooist, Vic, nods at me and stands up.

"Ay, Callie, what can I do for you and your friend?" he says in a thick Irish accent. He looks at Zayn, with his cast and crutches, but doesn't say anything.

"I'll have this one, here," I say, giving him the sketchbook and pointing to the inside of my left arm. He nods in approval.

"Nice choice. May take a bit of time," he warns. I nod and sit down on the cracked leather chair. He puts on a pair of gloves and starts out by cleaning the skin where I wanted my tattoo and then he starts inking my skin.

It doesn't hurt as much, I mean when I first got my ankle tattoo it hurt like hell but then it just kinda felt like someone poking me over and over again. I think Zayn is pretty much immune to the pain, considering his almost full sleeve now.

(A/N: like am i right or not? Zayn started out with a few then it turned into a half sleeve and now it's almost a full sleeve with the giant snake and the perrie tattoo?!??! idk i find it really attractive but soon we won't need to make punk zayn edits anymore haha)

About half an hour later, he's done, and I smile at his amazing work.

Now, on my left forearm, was a feather identical to the one on the Sleeping With Sirens album Feel. I wanted to show my gratitude to the band that saved my life, and this was the perfect way to.

"Thanks Vic," I whisper. He places a bandage on it and disposes his gloves and smiles at his work, obviously proud of it.

"And for you?" Vic peers at Zayn. Zayn hands him a drawing of a tiger, and Vic nods and looks at the drawing with amazement. "You drew this?"

"Yeah, I've been wanting to get it for a while now," Zayn says shyly, biting his lip.

"Well come on now, let's get started," Vic says and waves him over to the chair I occupied before.

People think tattoos are a symbol of gangs, or they're bad for you, or they're stupid and an act of rebellion. To me, they're a way to remember something, to mark an important day or an important symbol. Like August 11, 2002. The day my father died, the day everything changed for me. I got the anchor on my back in honor of my dad. He had one just like it. The star on my index finger, Abbie and I's symbol of friendship. The flock of birds, hope for the fact that one day I might be able to be free from all of this bullshit in my life. And now, a feather, a tribute to the band that saved my life.

Tattoos aren't just permanent drawings on your skin. They can tell your life story, they can save you from your pain, they can give you a sense of closure on anything that's needed one. But mainly, the ink paints a picture of your struggles and achievements, always there with you at all times. Tattoos are misunderstood, if only people saw the beauty in them.

A/N: guys ok i have a serious obsession with tattoos i think they're hot af on guys and i think it doesn't matter if you have like a sleeve or just one, if the tattoo means something to you they're a good way to express yourself