Bad Words | phan

12-The Alcohol

A/N: when you write gay fic at your school pep rally on your best friends phone bc this sucks. also, sorry it's been literally three months idk what happened.

Because of his previous experience, Dan didn't struggle to resist moving, but the needle still stung his shoulder blade. With every tattoo Dan received, the needle always stung as ink permanently forced the image of a daisy onto his skin. Every tattoo, every artwork on Dan's skin, held a story, but Dan never confessed the reasons behind them. Some secrets need to be kept, and some memories are too sacred to share. However, the reason for the daisy doodle was simple because Dan knew he could never and would never forget the boy who wore flower crowns.

"Why the are you getting a tattoo of a fucking flower?" Caspar scoffed, shaking his head. "You know those don't come off, fag." Because of Dan's recent revelation, he struggled not to cringe at the slurred word because he finally knew the effect words had. Words like "leave."

"Fuck off, Caspar," Dan sighed, rolling his eyes.

The tattoo artist wiped the ink again, ridding the excess from Dan's shoulder. "Why are you getting a flower?" he asked, carefully tracing the smooth curve of a white petal.

Dan took a deep breath so his shoulders wouldn't tense; he had never needed to remove a tattoo and the idea of peeling a layer of skin off his body didn't appeal to him. "It's none of your damn business," Dan hissed, struggling to control his body.

Caspar laughed obnoxiously, annoying Dan, and warned, "He doesn't tell." Dan knew he should tell about some of the images on his back, especially the ones that haunted his sleep, but he still feared judgement, memories, and acceptance.

Dan felt the artist's cold fingers steady the needle before he continued transferring the image to Dan's bare back. "Don't take it personally," Dan mumbled, trying to avoid sounding rude, though he knew it was a little too late.

Caspar frowned at Dan and asked, "What's gotten into you, mate?" He sounded confused, though Dan hadn't noticed any change in his personality or attitude. "You never apologize."

An awkward noise, something between a laugh and a snort, escaped Dan's lips. "I didn't apologize," Dan scoffed, rolling his eyes. However, Dan had apologized, even if he hadn't come right out to say sorry.

"And Louise told us about your little exchange. Since when do you turn down sex?" Caspar exclaimed, eyes wide. "And now you're getting a tattoo of a flower! A motherfucking flower, Dan! You're going soft on us, man!" Caspar had absolutely noticed Dan's changes and adjustments, even if Dan didn't care enough to point out the differences.

Dan realized that he was slightly different, and he knew that change sprouted from Phil, especially the flower tattoo. Still, Dan thought the changes were small and insignificant, so he rolled his eyes and asked, "Can we maybe not talk about this in front of a stranger?" Dan cringed at the thought of anyone, especially a stranger, knowing details about his life.

Caspar opened his mouth, but closed it when Dan glared at him, shaking his head slightly as he looked down. Deep inside of Dan, a fear lived, and the fear was growing. If Caspar noticed these minuscule changes, surely someone else had noticed them too, like Joe or Oli. When people noticed the differences, they might be able to see through Dan's shell, the hard, cold, outer shell that he hid inside, and they would become suspicious. They would learn the truth about his brother and his sexuality and the alcohol. Although Dan became scared people would discover that he relied quite a great deal on alcohol, he found himself craving a drink to clear his mind, or at least jumble his thoughts until he couldn't feel the fear.

Dan hadn't noticed his rapid breath, coming in and out of him like an old, rattling vent, until the tattoo artist asked, "Are you feeling alright, mate?" Regaining his breath and trying to steady his heartbeat, Dan assured the man that he felt fine. He didn't feel fine.