seraphic [h.s]

chapter forty six.

1991

January.

"You got any free space on your back for this one?" Dee teased, she knew damn well that I had one more free space of skin left for her work. I'd saved it for this piece especially. "Don't try to make me get up when you've got a needle pointing at my back." I mumbled with my head laying sideways on my arms. "I'm glad you know I hold the power in this situation." Her husky laugh ventured out and the client next to me, getting their own work done, laughed.

I rolled my eyes and hid my smile, "I'll get Eli to do it if you can't ." And with that, she gasped. "You will do no such thing. I can't believe that came out of your mouth." She muttered to herself some more, shuffling around and getting comfy as I lay on my stomach before her. I was bullshitting, and she knew that too. She was the only one I trusted to tattoo me. Apart from maybe that one time with Eli, but still.

My body wiggled as I settled in for the time I'd be laying here. It was only a small tattoo now, so I knew it wouldn't take too long. It was nearing the weekend so it hadn't been the busiest day, I'd had my regular clients, and then a few last minute ones, so an early finish meant time to kill. As the buzzing sound began, I sighed a peaceful sigh, it had grown to become one of my new favourite noises. It brought a sense of stability to my mind, it grounded me and made me feel in control.

Unlike my first tattoo, when the tip of the needle grazed my skin, I welcomed it. I had a whole back piece now, so I was pretty used to the raw feeling. But I loved it, feeling as Dee shaded in various parts, outlined others and wiped away the inky residue. I knew all the steps she took while tattooing, because I did the same too.

"Oh, she looks good." Dee admired her work on my back, filling in the finishing touches. A part of me felt overwhelmed, as I thought about the little journal I used to carry around with all my drawings in. Looking back, they'd actually been much better than I thought they were at the time. The pages I'd filled over the years grew with more meaning, they became more considered, more emotional, they held more history than the first few pages did.

I couldn't remember the exact moment I'd decided that I'd loved those little drawings so much. I just remembered loving them. And so all of those pages of growth were now on my back— the good ones anyway— if anybody looked too hard, there were some awfully sad little sketches hidden between the initial glance. Though it was all the more rewarding when remembering how much I'd pushed through.

With my head down, eyes looking at the cold floor, a pair of scuffed, all black chuck taylor's and denim jeans entered my gaze. I was thankful my head was down as I smiled shyly.

"How's it going, little lune?"

Eli. Only he could call me that and get away with it. Then again, he was the only one who called me that, so he always got away with it. I inched my head up and watched him as he watched the art being woven into my skin. He was always so mesmerised by the smallest of things. "It's going great, you like what you see?" I asked him playfully. His dark brown eyes shot over to mine for a second, and the smallest smirk graced his lips.

"I'm in awe like I always am." He said, smiling, and watching Dee's movements. I knew he was just playing, then also, I knew he wasn't. If I had come to realise anything, it was that Eli was a man of few words. A simple look, or glance from him, seemed to put me at ease and whenever he did say anything, I almost gushed over it like I was a teenager again. But a smart teenager this time. Much smarter.