Hey guys!! As promised, here's chapter two. I hope you enjoy it!! The two tattoos are ones that I want when I'm older (see below).
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It's Friday, and Amy Stroup marches up to Dan when he's fetching books from his locker and declares, "There is so much sexual tension between you and Bad Boy Lester."
"Morning to you too, Amy," says Dan in reply.
Amy rolls her tiny green eyes. "Honestly now, there's no denying it anymore. He's looking at you like he wouldn't mind eating you whole."
Dan glances across the hallway on impulse, and surely enough, Phil's leaning against the closed door of a classroom and eying him unabashedly, his eyes dark and his intention clear. Dan returns his gaze to small, pocket-sized Amy and tries not to grin. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He watches Amy press her lips into a thin line, and then she starts down the hall, obviously expecting Dan to follow. He slams the locker shut behind him and obliges.
"What's the deal with you two anyway?" Amy asks when he catches up.
"There's no deal," answers Dan stiffly. From all of his friends, Amy's the only one who knows he's even remotely acquainted with Bad Boy Lester. "We've just been friends long enough for this to not be weird."
"Yes." Amy hesitates. "And what is 'this' exactly?"
"I don't know." Dan is careful to keep the frustration out of his voice. "Can we move on from that? Because I want to ask you a thing."
"You want to ask me a thing," repeats Amy. She raises an eyebrow, nonplussed. "Does this have something to do with how you're wearing a flipping flower crown?"
Dan smiles faintly, reaching up to nudge at the object in question. Since Phil gave it to him last week, he hasn't really been motivated to take it off for too long. Sometimes when he's under the covers and half-asleep, he can hear Phil's voice saying god, Dan, you're just so fucking cute. And it's all worth it.
They reach the English classroom and fall into two empty seats. "Not really," Dan answers. He licks his lips, then pulls back the sleeves of his soft baby blue jumper to expose his wrists. He runs a finger over the pale skin there and says, "I'm thinking of getting tattoos."
"Tattoos," Amy deadpans. "On your wrists? Won't that, like, kill you or something?"
"Nope," answers Dan proudly. "I've done my research. And I've talked to mum, so I have parental consent, too."
He can't help the smug grin that sneaks onto his lips when Amy whistles, low and appreciative. "Nice. So you're serious about this. When and where? And can I come watch?"
+
On Saturday, Dan's mum drops him and Amy off at the same tattoo parlour where Phil got all of his tattoos. Dan's printed out a picture of the design he wants inked onto his wrists for the rest of eternity, and when he hands it over to the tattoo artist - a dad-aged man with a small beard and friendly eyes - he rather expects the stern look he is provided with.
"Now," says the artist, waving Dan towards a small black stool in front of a large mirror and smiling kindly at Amy. "I've spoken to your Mum and she seems to understand everything that getting a tattoo entails. But I need you to understand, too, that getting a tattoo is very much like purposefully wounding yourself. First off, it hurts like goddamn period cramps."
Behind him, Amy - who's perched herself on an identical black stool and is listening intently to the tattoo artist - widens her eyes and giggles.
Dan just nods and tries not to look like a bewildered four-year-old at his first dentist appointment.
"Like all wounds your tattoo can get infected," continues the artist, washing his hands in a basin attached to the wall. "So it goes without saying that you'll have to take very good care of it. Watch out for burning sensations or rashes or anything of the sort. Of course, I've never had a case of the sort in my parlor," he adds with satisfaction. "But nonetheless. Better safe than sorry."
"Yes, of course," Dan says, feeling very mature all of a sudden. He listens patiently as the man carries on, outlining how Dan will have to be cautious and the symptoms he'll have to look out for, and naming a few clinics he recommends in worst-case scenarios. When the artist fetches what is clearly the tattoo machine and pulls up a stool to sit in front of Dan, Amy crosses the room and rests her palm reproachfully on Dan's shoulder.
She leans down and says into his ear, "Tell me why you're doing this."
"What?" Dan asks distractedly, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater when he is told to.
"Is it for Phil? Are you doing this to impress Phil?"
She sounds reasonably concerned, so Dan spares her a look of confusion. "No, obviously not."
"Because it's fine if you have a crush on him," Amy carries on, and the pressure she's applying on his shoulder increases. "You don't need to, like, prove yourself to him or anything. You know that, right?"
"Wait, what?" Dan is so stunned he withdraws his wrists from the artist, who'd begun rubbing them with a wet cloth. "I don't have a crush on Bad Boy Lester," denies Dan.
"Is there a problem?" enquires the artist with mild amusement, and Dan is briefly overtaken with the mad urge to shush him. He decides not to.
"Well, you've certainly been acting like it," Amy points out smartly. She's leaning against the dresser and looking all accomplished, her eyebrows pulled together and her lips hinting at a grin.
"I'm not - I'm not!" claims Dan eloquently. Realising that he isn't arguing his point well enough, he rushes to add, "Besides. I'm not getting a tattoo to impress Phil. I'm getting a tattoo because I've always wanted one. You know that."
"Really?" Amy full-out smirking now. "Because you've never mentioned having a tattoo before. And you've been acting weird ever since you showed up wearing that flower crown. To school."
The tattoo artist snorts. Dan glares at him. "Kid," the man says gruffly, "I don't know what's going on, but you do realise tattoos are permanent. You best be getting these for the right reasons." He reaches for Dan's wrists again, and Dan lets him wipe them down in a daze.
"I don't have a crush on Phil Lester," repeats Dan faintly.
"You don't," Amy repeats, and then she's leaning down to press her lips to Dan's cheek, and he can't help but smile at that. She smells like grass and something soft. "You're sure about this, are you?"
"I'm sure about this. The tattoo," Dan clarifies, just in case. "I'm sure about the tattoo."
"What about Phil?" she persists. The artists cocks his head to the side at her words, apparently interested in Dan's answer, too.
"I'm sure about the tattoo," Dan reiterates with a sense of finality in his voice.
When the needle first digs gently into the soft skin of his left wrist, Amy engages him in a conversation about this year's spring play, and he humours her because he'd rather not be left alone with his thoughts.
