The Flower Boy and the Tattoo Artist

Chapter 2

For the remainder of the morning it was slow. Very slow. A lot of his customers came in during the afternoon or the evening. They rarely had business very early. The only other person he had in the shop was Gilbert, who honestly was better than Antonio himself. 

The Prussian lay on the cushy black leather waiting couch, feet propped up listening to blaring music in his headphones. He noticed Antonio's distracted demeanor and pulled the music from his head. "Yo, what's up with you today?" he asked, the other man looking up to him with a puppy-like look, which soon melted into a smile. 

"I met a boy today." 

Gilbert raised his brows and smirked, sitting up and said, "Ooooh, a boy? When? Where? How old?" 

Antonio leaned on the desk. "This morning. The flower place across the street. And I have no idea. He looks like a college student." 

Gilbert's face contorted into a sly expression. "Minor, huh? You kinky little boy--" 

"Oh, shut up!" Antonio threw a pencil at the albino but wasn't hit. Their joking had to end because a customer entering the shop.

The customer that walked in was none other than Lovino. He looked around, "Hi, I was just thinking about getting a tattoo." He mumbled quietly under his breath. His apron was gone, revealing his clothes; skin tight white tank top with tan shorts and regular white sneakers.

Gilbert and Antonio both gaped at the boy standing in the doorway. The Spaniard finally cleared his throat. "Lovi! Welcome, come over here and take a seat!" he said jovially, striding toward Gilbert and tossing him off the couch. Smiling, the brunette grabbed a few binders.

"I thought I told you not to call me that," Lovino grumbled, walking over to the couch and sitting down with a sigh, "Why is this shop so far away? My feet is killing me." He was just being over-dramatic as usual, talking in heavy breaths as if he just ran a mile.

"It's right across the street." commented Antonio, laying the binders in Lovino's lap.

Lovino rolled his eyes as he opened a binder, "Whatever. I'm not very athletic, okay?" His eyes looked down and he gasped, his heart almost stopping. His fingers gently grazed over the tattoo he saw. It was a flower. "This... This is beautiful..." He said finally, staring at the page. After a while of looking he flipped the page over, oohing and ahhing at some of the pictures.

Antonio smirked cockily and folded his arms. "I could customize you something, if none of that appeals to you." offered the Spaniard.