Drawing Tattoos [Lashton AU]

Chapter 1

                He knew, in some corner of his mind, that he should be listening to the teacher, but it was just so hard to concentrate.

                “Seriously though, Ash…” his friend next to him (at least, his acquaintance next to him, or whatever—Ashton knew better than to assume some sort of camaraderie with a near-stranger) was rambling about some girl sitting at the front of the class. Ashton had thought that, if anything, he’d be able to at least sort of pay attention to Michael as he talked, but obviously he just didn’t have that sort of power.

                His fingers itched to reach into the pencil bag in front of him and pull out a pen. He’d told his mom that he’d not draw today. He’d promised, in a moment of weakness, that he’d do at least that for her. Yet, he couldn’t help it.

                “Mikey,” Ashton sighs, apparently cutting the boy off, if his put out look was anything to go by, “do you think one drawing could hurt?”

                The boy only chuckles. Out of everyone, Michael understood Ashton’s addiction most. Not the reason, of course, cause Ash would never let anyone know that, but he definitely got the need to doodle on skin. To create art out of a body, and whatnot. Michael had a few tattoos of his own—real tattoos—and he was always talking about getting more.

                More than that, though, he dyed his hair every few months. Like Ashton, people always called him out on the harm he was doing to himself that way. Unlike Ashton, Michael seemed to be able to tell people right where to stick their opinions.

                Ashton just kind of let the judgment hammer into him. Sometimes he wondered if anyone would ever understand that their constant explanations and worrying was what drove Ashton to begin his nervous habit in the first place.

                Probably not, no.

                “You know as well as I do, Ash—“ Mikey seems to laugh, as the situation wasn’t nearly as serious as it was, “—once you start, you don’t stop.”

                “But just one couldn’t hurt.” Ashton pouted at his skin. The two of them had been in class for a few minutes already, completely oblivious to whatever it was the teacher was talking about, and the sight of his clear skin was nearly freaking Ashton out.

                “Whatever you say, mate,” Mikey rolled his eyes, “just don’t blame me when we leave this class and you’re covered yet again.”

                Ashton turned to pout at Mikey even as he was reaching for a pen, running the colors he brought to school today through his mind. He’d probably go with red, as he usually did, but it didn’t hurt for Ashton to bring other colors just in case. He had black, too, in case he decided to make a few look like actual tattoos.

                Of course, he also wasn’t the best artist in the world, so Ashton figured that wouldn’t be an issue or anything like that.

                He was almost grinning by the time he clicked the pen, even though he hadn’t started doodling yet. “What should it be today?” He tapped the tip of the pen against his skin a few times, creating little red dots on random parts of his arm.

                Mikey just rolled his eyes yet again. He’d found at some point that he’d just let his friend do whatever he wished to do (unlike Ashton, Michael had no sorts of reservations about declaring friendship, even if it was unrequited), as that seemed to make him happiest, anyway. It was Michael that had first made the rumors about Ashton begin to subside—and it was Michael that still had the need to beat up anyone who so much as looked at Ashton weirdly for having doodles on his skin.