tattoos → pynch

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there was this tattoo parlor down the street from the college i attended. it was a quaint little place, there were fairy lights hanging around, which was aesthetic as fuck, and there were tons of artwork plastered to the walls. it was beautiful, and i was in love with beauty. this tiny tattoo parlor was perhaps my favorite place in the entire world.

but although i'd decided it was my favorite place, i'd never quite decided what my favorite thing about the place was: the art, or adam parrish.

but then again, art and adam parrish are kind of the same thing.

adam parrish was one of the tattoo artists who worked here. he was this hot punk guy who always wore black clothing and leather jackets and combat boots and a cigarette in his perfectly shaped lips. he was a beautiful, intriguing man whom i'd had my eye on since shortly after i'd started college that year.

he was someone i didn't think i'd ever have a chance with, yet he was someone i thought was worth trying for.

adam parrish loved black. i loved pink.

adam parrish wore beanies and leather. i wore flower crowns and pastel skirts.

adam parrish loved to create art. i loved to admire it.

adam parrish wanted to die. i wanted to feel alive.

adam parrish was the moon, and i was the sun. we weren't meant to be together, but we made it work.

i went to the tattoo parlor all the time. i filled my body with the art, there were unicorns and aliens and flowers and song quotes and pointless patterns and other things that made me happy to look at. i won't lie, the fact that i was so keen to spend time with adam did play a role in how frequently i visited the parlor, but i don't regret the art that adam put on my body. it's nice to look at different tattoos and admire the beauty and remember what was going through my mind and what was happening around me and where i was in life when i got the tattoo. and it's interesting to think about how much i must've liked the image at the time that i decided to put it on my body forever. no matter how sick i may get of the tattoos someday, i know i'll never have them removed. every piece of art is special, and deserves to prosper for as long as possible.

it was late on a cool febuary night, and i was at the parlor to get a tattoo of the silhouette of a unicorn. adam stayed overtime just for me. i was already so happy, and then he walked out with me when he had finished the design. i don't think i'll ever forget anything about those moments between the two of us outside the parlor that night. i was wearing a pastel green sweater with cartoon avocados all over it, accompanied by a blue flared skirt and leggings of a slightly lighter blue shade. adam was wearing his usual leather jacket over a loose black fall out boy t-shirt, and ripped, faded jeans. i remember wondering if they were ripped because they were old or for the grunge aesthetic. i remember our shoulders were close as we walked next to each other, so close that i could feel the heat radiating from his body. i remember how beautiful the moon looked that night, but that adam looked more beautiful.

i remember he walked me to my car. i remember saying goodbye and opening the door to climb inside. i remember him grabbing my hand to stop me.

i remember him staring at me for a moment before he pulled me close to him and kissed me.

i remember the blush that rose to my cheeks. i remember the warmth of his lips spreading through my whole body. i remember how he tasted. i remember how i felt happier in that moment than i ever had in my entire life.

i remember him pulling away after a bit and whispering, "happy valentine's day, ronan," in my ear, before heading off to his own car.

i remember standing there, staring after him as he walked away. i remember not being able to speak.

i remember having a huge smile stuck to my face all night. i remember not being able to fall asleep because i was so happy and excited.

i remember everything.

the next day, i asked adam parrish out on a date. he accepted.

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