Endgame (Scömìche)

12. Permanence

Mitch is slowly pacing around the small waiting area of the tattoo parlour. He pauses, staring at one of the images on the wall, tilting his head and frowning as he tries to figure out what he's looking at. "Is that a... chicken?" he asks,  still not sure.

"Um... yes, yes I think it is," says Carisssa, "it's a very... colorful chicken," she adds positively. "Thinking of changing your mind, Mitch?"

Mitch smiles as Michael joins them to stare at the stylized image. "Actually, I think it's a cock," he says.

Mitch snaps his head round to look at Michael, rewarding him with a wide grin, "Well, maybe I should reconsider," he says, raising his brows and turning the corners of his mouth down in an expression of mock consideration before breaking into a laugh.

A heavily tattooed petite blonde, dressed entirely in black appears next to him at that moment. "The Grassi party?" she enquires.

"Yes, that's us", says Mitch.

"This way Sir," she says leading them to a small side room. "We have your image already. It is just the one? The same for you all?"

"Yes, that's right," he nods, and please, I'm Mitch, this is Carissa and this is Michael.

"I'm Sandra," she says, holding out her hand. "It is nice to meet you," she shakes hands with each in turn before adding, "So who is first?"

"I'll go," says Michael.

Sandra gestures to the large leather chair in the centre of the room, "where abouts are we having this then?" she queries. Michael sits and holds his arm out, gesturing to his chosen site. As they discuss exact placement, Sandra works her hands into a pair of black latex gloves. Mitch and Carissa, seated on a leather bench on one side of the room, are ignoring him, already deep in conversation.

"Do you mind if I listen to music?" says Sandra, gesturing with her headphones? "It helps me focus." Michael shakes his head, "No, of course not, go right ahead," he says, happy to be able to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place across the room. He's caught a few words and is eager to hear more; Carissa's gone straight out and asked the question the pair of them have been pondering in secret.

"I didn't realise you didn't know!" says Mitch surprised. "I mean, we're keeping it fairly quiet; we've asked for it not to leave the tour fam; but we're living on the same bus, I just assumed..."

She shakes her head, "You're friends are all really good at protecting your privacy; it's you and Scott that made us suspicious. You, um, you make it pretty obvious," she wrinkles her nose as she smiles.

"We do?" he asks.

"Yeah - the way you look at each other for one, and, um, you keep kissing. That's a bit of a give away."

"How do we look at each other?" Mitch asks, genuinely interested.

"Like you're in love. Are you?"

Michael's so caught up in the conversation unfolding across the room that he's almost entirely forgotten the needle that's jabbing into him repeatedly.

"Yeah," says Mitch, shyly looking at Michael and realising he's got a bit of an audience. "I mean we've loved each other for years, as friends, but it changed for me quite some time ago. I fought it for a long time; first 'cause, well, it was complicated and also 'cause he's my everything, but I don't think I realised until recently quite how far I'd fallen. It still feels new, and, um, intense, but it's good." Mitch quietens, realising he's rambling and that he's shared rather more than he imagined he might. It's oddly easier to talk to someone that doesn't know them so well. But still, he's worried he's oversharing. "Sorry, that was a lot."