I Want It Bad - Narry

Chapter Eight

When Harry is finally sitting down in the tattooing chair with sweaty palms and a racing heart, he thinks getting a tattoo isn’t such a good idea anymore. He looks to Niall, his wide, green eyes radiating fear, and Niall shakes his head.

“Can’t back out now, babe. I’ve already paid the man.”

Harry whines low in his throat, a protest ready to escape when the tattoo artist steps into the room. He has the tattoo gun in his hand, the most threatening and revolting thing to Harry at the moment. But he grits his teeth and stays put, though the urge to bolt out of the tattoo shop and down the road was still a very appealing option to follow up on.

“Aye, Niall! Look at ‘cha, mate. Got some sick additions since I’ve seen ya,” the tattoo artist – and apparently Niall’s friend – says.

Niall pulls the man in for a one-armed hugged, beaming at him. “I know! And yeah, they’re pretty sweet, huh? Got ‘em done at Ed’s place awhile back.”

Harry shifts in his seat, swallowing down the nervous lump forming in his throat. “So you guys know each other?” he asks, voice quivering. The tattoo artist grins, slinging an arm around Niall’s shoulders and nods.

“Yep! Niall and I go waaaay back. First came into my shop when he was . . . eh, about fifteen?” He glances sideways to Niall in confirmation. “Young little shit, he was. Had the balls to ask for a tattoo and I thought: Hell, why not? Kid like that deserves one.”

Harry looks at Niall in bewilderment, fingers presses down hard into the arm of the chair. “Isn’t that, like, illegal without a parent’s consent?!”

The two start laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. Obviously they don’t give two shits about the law, or anything for that matter. Harry feels his face flush in embarrassment.

“Relax, angel,” Niall whispers, rubbing Harry’s shoulders gently. He smiles softly at him, and Harry returns one back, though his is considerately weaker and unconvincing. He does try to relax, but it seems impossible as the man with the tattoo gun sits down next to him with a wicked grin, ready to commence the tattooing process.

“Where dya’ want it, mate?”

Harry stares at him blankly; mouth opening to respond but no words comes out, just a choked squeak. The man laughs, clapping a hand roughly on his shoulder. Harry flinches.

“Seems to be your first time, yeah?” The man says. Harry gives a small nod.

“S’what I thought. My only advice to you is to stay still. You move, you get a shitty tattoo, and it’ll hurt like hell. Well, worse than it will, anyways.” He pauses, eyes flickering to Niall. “What’s he getting?”