Torn (harry styles)

42- Tattoo

We walk in silence until we reach Harry's black Range Rover, he jogs round to my side and opens the door for me, I smile giddily and slide into the seat.

On the floor by my feet is his handbag, only the flap is open and his journal is sticking out, I want to know what's inside it.

I can see it more properly now, it has black meaningful drawings on it, and the leather is worn.

Harry jumps into the car next to me, and his eyes meet what I'm staring at.

"Oh, I want your opinion on something." He mumbles and reaches down and grabs the journal.

On the way down the back of his hand grazes accidentally against my thigh, leaving tingles behind and making me blush.

I watch as he flicks through pages and pages of scrawled hand writing. He has a hell of a lot of writing in there. Every part of me wants to read it.

There are some drawings too, it is these pages that he stops at.

"What do you think of this, for a tattoo?" His raspy voice asks me.

I take a look at what he's pointing to.

It's a butterfly.

A beautiful, meaningful, perfect butterfly.

Intricate patterns lacing through the wings.

"I love it." I mutter. "Where would you put it?"

"I'm thinking on my upper belly, what do you think?"

I imagine it...

"Yes, yeah get it there." I fluster, blushing at the mere thought of how good he will look.

He smirks, he can tell what I'm thinking, he seems to be very good at that.

"When are you getting it done?" I ask him.

"Maybe tomorrow, you could come with me if your up for it?"

Butterflies I now imagine as the one he drew are fluttering around in my stomach. In fact they always are when I'm around Harry.

"You should get a tattoo." He says with a grin.

"No. I'm only 17." I say, not even considering it.

"Yeah well I'm 18, so..." He murmurs. "I'm old enough to be your legal guardian."

I stay quiet, I'm not getting a tattoo.

"And plus I know the guy who does it, he's a good friend of mine. He'll do it for you. No questions asked." Harry persists in me getting a tattoo, I'm not.

"I'm not getting a tattoo." I merely say.

"Why?"

I think about it, why?

"Because it's permanent. It's forever." Is all I can say, it sounds a bit stupid out loud.

"And? If you love it, then maybe you will want it forever?" he says, frowning.

"Yeah but just because I love it now doesn't mean I always will."

The moment these words leave my mouth a wave of shivers rake down my back. I feel as though my words hold more meaning than just talking about a tattoo. I feel like this whole conversation isn't just about a tattoo, it has more levels to it. Although maybe that's just me being stupid.

"But you never really stop loving something, if you love it now then part of you always will." Harry's words dig deep down into me.

"Yeah but maybe I don't want the evidence of something that I used to love inked permanently somewhere on my body." I say.

This conversation is giving me the chills.

"How do you know that you will stop loving it? Don't you think it's possible to love something for ever?"

Each one of Harry's words confirms to me that this conversation is about more than just a tattoo.

"Maybe, but how am I to know that now? What if it is all just a mistake that I will later regret?"

Harry's face holds such concentration and passion.

"What if it isn't a mistake? What if you regret not getting it? Why don't you just give it a chance?"

We're definitely not talking about a tattoo any longer.

"Because me and tattoos... We don't suit. I know for fact that they can cause a lot of pain."

"How do you know that if you won't even give one a chance? Maybe a tattoo is just what you need."

My mind is a wirl pool, this whole conversation spinning round and round inside my head.

Me and Harry? No...

"Yeah well what if the tattoo only suits me for a little bit?"

"The tattoo won't change, it can't change. The only thing that might change is you and how you feel. The tattoo will always stay the same." Harry shakes his head and licks his lips.

"But we're too different- me and tattoos. What if people think it's strange?"

"Who the fuck cares what other people think? I sure as hell don't and I thought you were the type that didn't either."

"I don't."

Silence falls over us, Harry turns away from me and starts the engine and drives out of the car park.

The journey to my house is silent, not another word is exchanged between me and Harry.

There is awkward tension in the air from our heated conversation.

We both know it was about more than just a tattoo, it was almost like he was referring to himself as the tattoo.

When we pull into my road he stops the car and turns to face me.

I undo my seat belt and just as I'm about to get out of the car he speaks.

"Wait, Skye?"

I turn to face him again, my eyes meeting his. As soon as our eyes connect I feel a connection like electricity and I feel dizzy.

"Just give the tattoo some thought, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as you think. Remember that it can be whatever you want it to be, just say the word." He tells me.

"Okay, I'll think about it." I sigh, this is all just too much.

"Even if you don't want one, you can still come with me to get mine done." He smiles weakly.

"Yeah." I say.

"I'll text you tomorrow then, bye Skye."

"Bye Harry, thank you so much for everything, I can't even begin to tell you how thankful I am you were there." I smile broadly. He grins.

"No problem."

With that it get out of his car and walk to my door, opening it and heading inside.

Me and Harry's previous conversation is all still too over whelming.

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Hey guys:) hope you like! I know it's another short one but it's pretty intense so I thought I may as well post huh???

Love you all an appreciate you readers.

Thanks xx