"What is this place?" There was a certain hint of wonder contained within his voice, mixed with disbelief. As if he knew what his eyes were currently telling him couldn't possibly be the truth.
"It's a tattoo parlor." Once, he'd had the momentary thought that it would be far easier just to embed his name upon Seokjin's skin with ink instead of attempting to force it to bend to his will and scar so prettily. That had been before the thing, pink lines had been formed into his throat. Before he had realized that those marks were so easy to hide.
"Why are we here?" Instantly he felt ridiculous, because the answer was so clear without the question even having to be asked.
"It's our engagement present." There were no rings, no bands of gold encircling their fingers. Maybe because those just didn't feel like they were enough. Didn't feel permanent enough somehow.
"Jungkook." It was a little panicked, and more than a little unsure, body twisting in some lame attempt to go back towards the car. Like he could stop this with that simple action alone. But there were arms there to catch him, wrapping around his waist. And those hands went to his hips and squeezed, and he tried to remember his earlier confidence about why that was a good thing.
"I want to see my name in your skin." One of those hands shifted, went to where his own hand come to rest against that strong chest. Wrapped around the thin wrist and lifted, until the sleeve of the jacket fell back and he could press his lips against the soft flesh. "I want to have yours in mine. So no one will ever question who we belong to again."
"But -" It was so difficult to argue with something like that. When it was spoken in a way that it made it sound so good. Something within his mind said that he still needed to give consent. That this should still be something that they both wanted. But looking at his wrist now he saw how empty the expanse seemed. How the pale skin seemed so plain under the harsh rays of the sun.
"You said you'd be my good boy." It was so manipulative. Playing on his weaknesses. And the one singular ounce of sanity that still remained within him said that this was wrong. That this had been the exact thing Jimin had been trying to warn him of. That Jungkook was, in fact, going to destroy him. Slowly. Deliberately. It would start with marking him skin, and who knows where it would actually end. "Let me put my mark on you."
It was never going to end. Because he had already given so much of himself over to this man that there was nothing left to get back, even if he had the strength to ask.
"Will you have mine too?" It wasn't fear of the pain that was currently welling up within him. Or that this was permanent. That he would carry this mark forever. No, it was the fear that he would be marked and Jungkook wouldn't. And the truth was that he belonged to Jungkook, despite weather or not the other returned that ownership.
And that was the fear. That he belonged to Jungkook. But that Jungkook did not belong to him.
"Of course baby." Lifting up his own sleeve, he showed his own tanned, blank wrist, a canvas that was simply waiting to be painted. "I've drawn some flowers for us. I thought we could each sign our names across them."
"That's -" Not sweet. But that little voice inside of him was constantly getting weaker. Until he could barely even hear it anymore. "That's so incredible, Kookie. I can't believe you're doing all of this for us."
"Anything for you, sweetheart." There was the softest kiss being placed against his lips, their bare wrist brushing at the action. And he smiled at the knowledge that soon they would be covered in each other's marks. "Now come on, we don't want to be late."
...
Tiger lilies. A bright, rainbow arch of color that transformed the petals perfectly. Bright purples and blues and reds. Yellows and greens and just the little hint of pink along the edge. All with the sprawling signature of his love bridging across it all. He stared down at the design for what felt like hours, hands shaking slightly with the knowledge that it was meant to be etched into his skin.
But there was a matched set currently being forced into Jungkook's, the tanned skin slowly being marred by the thin black outline of those same flowers. With the solid form of his own name. It seemed fitting, that Jungkook's should remain as nothing more than lines forming into shapes, and that his shoulder be filled in. Should be far more elaborate. Pretty was the word that had been used. More delicate.
Because Seokjin was his color. That's what Jungkook had said when he'd presented the sketches to the artist. When he'd asked if it would be possible, followed by having them sign their names across the expanse.
Jungkook's was loopy and flowing, what should have been harsh lines forming into soft peaks. While his own was neat and drawn out, one letter flowing perfectly into the next, until they were all expertly formed.
The tingle that had once settled at the base of his spine had returned, jolting upwards every time he so much as moved. Had him focusing solely upon it until he lost track of time and suddenly it was his turn.
That little voice spoke one last time, using the very last of it's strength, as if trying to warn him. As if trying to get him to reconsider.
But he didn't. He never had and he never would.
It hurt. A burning ache that made him jump when it had first began. Thankfully that exact reaction had been anticipated, and he forced himself to find the strength to sit still. To endure the agony until it was finished. Smiled at the sight of the bright colors blending in to one another until an actual pastel rainbow had been pressed into his skin.
Even wrapped in plastic it was still vibrant. Radiant. And he adored with his entire heart. Held it close to him. Cradled against the warmth of his body, the sleeve of his jacket carefully pulled down to protect the fresh mark. Sort of almost wondered how he was going to ever explain this to anyone, because surely there was no one who would understand.
No one ever had. And he wondered when that had stopped bothering him.
