Rose Tattoos | H.S (discontinued)

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲

Her cold hands gliding against the skin of my rib cage gave me chills. I almost let out a sound that expressed how good it feels to have her hands on me. So smooth yet so rough.

I observed her from the full body mirror that stood approximately twenty feet in front of me: Arabella's hair was tied back in a low ponytail with a strand pulled on either side of her face. Her head tilts made those strands cover a part of her face but I could still see how focused she looked while she drew the roses on me. Her head will lower as she focuses on the small details and her eyebrows will pull together making it look like she was dissatisfied with the outcome, but I knew she wasn't because she didn't wipe it off and re-draw it.

When she led me to the mirror in the hallway to see how the semi-final product will look, I couldn't help but try to get a view of it from every angle. Her artistic skills never fail to amaze me, that's one of the reasons why I only want her doing my tattoos here, I'll envision it and she brings it to life as if she was just inside my head and saw what I want.

"I'm going to start tattooing now, Harry. Please remember to breathe, I don't want you passing out on me." She chuckled, but it held a bit of concern.

I think I have enough experience on getting tattooed to be able to get through this but I found it cute how she's trying to not freak out for me.

"I'll be fine, Arabella, I live for this." I assured her. She whispered back an "okay" and started on the bottom part of the tattoo.

I don't know why but the moment the needle punctured into me at lightning speed made me want to curse loudly. It hurt for about a second, but all of that subsided and the high I got from the pain dispersed through my veins.

I curled my fingers into a fist and dug my nails into the palm of my skin to prevent me from swearing left and right.

The higher she tattooed, the higher the pain became. But I liked it. I enjoyed the way it makes me feel, it reminds me I'm still human and gives me a rush of excitement.

It's just different when Arabella does tattoos for me, I've had a favorite artist back then, but I've replaced his spot for the one who's currently tattooing on me.

The way she handles me so delicately as if I'm breakable glass lures me in for more. She's got the softest touch I've ever felt when in this process, almost as if she's scared to push down too hard on the glass and create a mess of shards.

"Harry?"

I shifted my gaze from the wooden floor to the mirror where I could see her staring at me. Both of her gloved-hands are in the air, with her right holding the rotary machine.

I lifted both my eyebrows up, confused to why she stopped.

"Oh, I was just making sure you're okay. You zoned off for a bit," she smiled. "Do you want to take a break?"

I shook my head no. "I'd prefer if you keep going, please."

To which she did, she finished the entire piece after many, many hours. My still body was finally able to stretch after being on my side on the reclining chair for so long.

My ribcage aches in pain, it felt so good, but I had to sit on the edge of the chair and breathe a bit then I shifted my body towards the mirror to get a sort of, good view of the fresh ink on my ribs. The final product definitely looks much better than all the messy markings.

Arabella still stood behind me, looking in the mirror as well to see what I see. She looks so pleased with her art.

"I've never been so in love with the way my art looks on somebody before." She said from behind me, pulling off her gloves.

"And I've never been so in love with the way someone's touch make the pain feel like nothing." I looked at her straight in the eye through the mirror to which her lips formed a smile and she sheepishly looked away.

"With your consent, can I take a picture of it?" She asked me.

I gave her eyes of approval.

"I just feel really proud of this piece," she blushed when she took her phone from her back pocket.

"You should be, I adore it." I smiled.

She asked me to pose in front of an art wall she has in her studio, to which I did, and she got her picture. Her smile said it all when she stared at the photo for a good amount of time.

"Thank you, Bella. I know I keep coming back almost every week for a new tattoo, but I just love your work. I'd definitely give you a five-star rating." I winked.

"Rate me on Yelp, maybe more people will come here." She laughed at her little joke and I couldn't help but do the same, not because it was funny but because she looked kind of cute.

As I put my shirt back on, Arabella was still cleaning her area, her back faced me when she threw away the used contents and I could see her thick sweater dragged down a bit; I could see little lines on black ink.

"You have a tattoo?" I questioned.