It used to be Simple | ft.Cole Sprouse

Chapter 021:

He lead me through the thick and smoke filled air, air that I would despise of or scoff at if I weren't concentrated on someone close to me. With fingers loosely hanging around mine, we swung our arms and pretended that it wasn't cold enough for our teeth to start jumping, all while I attempted to guess where on earth he would take me now. He, however, attempted to distract me just in case I guessed right.

'The field you and Scott took me and Cora to?'

'Nope. You're awful at this. You're also awful at dancing.'

'You're saying that like you were any better.' I scoff, watching a smirk make its way to his lips. 'Anyway,' I shake my head and try to think. 'The beach?'

'I've taken you there two times already.'

'So? I like it there.'

'Well, no. I'm not taking you there. You tried the cupcakes from that bakery?' he pointed over to a tiny shop seated at the corner of the street presenting a pink sign stating that they now sell chocolate filled muffins. Interesting.

'Appealing. No, no I haven't. Don't try to sway away from my guesses.' I demanded in a fake serious voice that I've grown used to use around him. He shrugged, edging me to continue. 'McDonalds?' I started, panicking.

He burst out laughing, shaking his head while doing so. He stopped abruptly, facing me and taking my hands in his, the warmth of them clearly not matching the freezing temperature of mine, but he didn't flinch and didn't seem to bother with it. He was about to say something with a straight face but then blew up again.

He rolled up his sleeve instead, revealing a few lines followed by a simple triangle. How typical, I thought. I couldn't imagine him without one. However, I still raised my eyebrows, a tattoo, not expected on his body.

'It's not a tattoo.' I must have looked too confused because he continued, 'uh, not yet.'

And then it made sense where he was taking me.

-

A neon sign baffled me, "Open 24/6" it stated, its perfect cursive bringing jealously upon my awful messy handwriting. He clutched the doorknob, covering it's shine, feeling the cold and opened the tattoo shop.

The one thing I forgot to mention was that it was pitch back inside. Looked empty and abandoned, I wouldn't have bothered checking if it was locked if I were on my own, but then again, why would I go to a tattoo place? The only thing that puzzled me was the sign, it clearly wasn't open 24/6... or ever, for that matter.

He let himself in, the bell above the door alerting our entrance, and pulled the door back so it could shut itself, ringing the bell even louder. It looked exactly like it did from the outside; pitch black. But as our footsteps echoed through what seemed like an empty room, the lights switched on.

They revealed three half-finished walls of posters, while one being black and white stripes simply. There were chairs and paints and electronics and radios and robes and photographs of happy, satisfied customers. Lots of green and healthy plants, plenty of tubes of a massive variety of colours and shades and tones. Plenty of everything. Plenty.

My eyes scooted over to who actually turned the lights on, his hand on the wall and his black apron feathered with spilt paint; Liam. Liam was a painter, as I had failed to recognise before Cole told me. I should have known, the sketchbook, the pencils, the weird but cute pencil case in his bag. How didn't I pick that up?

Nonetheless, as Cole sat on the chair and presented his arm for the tattoo, Liam explained that he had just finished painting a picture he took of the sea the day we all went out. I longed to see it but he said he wanted to touch it up before hanging it up. I felt sudden motivation to start a painting career, the one you normally get at 3 a.m.

As Liam began filling in the little sticker that Cole was given to sketch his design, his eyes began watering and his face creasing. Veins popped on his arms as he started laughing at the stupidity of the situation.

I sat back, watching and laughing, picturing what was pacing through his head to just get a few meaningless tattoos.

And then I wondered if it was meaningless at all... what could it have meant?

Either way, it was over quicker than I thought it would and he didn't scream (much). He jumped out the chair and made my heart race with only one singular phrase.

'Your turn.'

-

I'm sorry for the lack of responsibility from my side. I've been busy, I've been sad, everything everyone is tired of hearing. I failed all my exams and am in a slow state where my depression is coming back. But I'll be okay.

I wasn't in the mood to write a cheery story or to continue with this overly-optimistic storyline, but I'll pull through. I'm so, so close to 2k and it happened so quick and so soon and suddenly I got all these comments and votes and I feel like I need to do something better to impress people but I'm suddenly realising I lack the skill. I apologize.

This isn't going to stop. This story will carry on, bear with me. Thank you.

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