Welcome to Lost Boys Ink

I lost you before I found you, right?

Saturdays are no fun to work. Pete sighs and looks through the empty shop, the artwork hanging on the walls and the dozens of binders he knows contain even more. All his works; finished and unfinished, sketches on paper and real ink on skin.

But Saturdays are always slow – in regards to walk-in customers – and so far only a young couple came in that morning to make appointments for later next week. He shouldn't have given Joe the day off, now he's stuck here all alone. Maybe he'll close up early today, it's his shop after all and he can do as he pleases.

His gaze falls on the showcase, or rather on the short guy standing in front of it. He seems to be looking at the storefront, maybe debating on whether to come in or not. He's definitely a first timer, a tattoo-virgin. Well, except for that one tattoo they all share. Without turning his eyes away Pete rubs a finger over his gloved wrist where his soulmate-tattoo hides. The name of the one person who is waiting just for him - Patrick Martin Stumph, but the 'Martin' and 'h' of Stumph is inked much lighter than the other letters. He probably only goes by Patrick Stump.

Pete loves the concept of that one person somewhere out there, one person that's just right for you. The thought had kept him going a lot of times when depression wanted to push him down. Somewhere Patrick is waiting for him and he can't disappoint him.

His soulmate-tattoo is what sparked his interest in tattoos in the first place; when he was first old enough he started his sleeve, integrating Patrick's name perfectly into the design, like it was always supposed to be part of it. The writing looked kind of unruly and scrawny at first, but the more Pete looked at them, the more they looked just... right.

And most of his customers wanted just the same, something of them to connect with their tattoo.

But this guy is not inked like that, not yet maybe. With the red cardigan he's wearing and the thick-rimmed glasses on his nose he looks out of place like a polar bear on the beach.

And the guy is now coming into the shop. Pete tries to look busy, like he hadn't watched him for the last five minutes, shuffling papers around on the counter. The little bell above the shop door announces the guy's entrance and Pete looks up again – like he just noticed – and shoots him a friendly smile.

"Welcome to Lost Boys Ink!" Pete's leaning on the counter and the guy stops a few feet away, looking questioning at Pete.

"Are you Ace?"

"Yep, that's me. What can I do for you? Gonna get your first tattoo?" Pete is still smiling. Even though the guy doesn't look inked right now, Pete can totally see it. He has such a light complexion, with flawless skin and blonde hair, the contrast would look amazing.

"No, actually I have a tattoo I want removed."

"You don't say. Is it something embarrassing? Drunken adventure?" He can't imagine this guy making any rash decisions to get a tattoo, but it wouldn't be the first time Pete saw it happen.

"No, it's my soulmate-tattoo. I got told you remove those." The guy is looking uncomfortable now.

And Pete can see why. Yes, he does remove them, but it's not common and not really 'socially acceptable'. As far as he knows he is the only one in the whole state of Illinois who removes soulmate-tattoos at all. If the guy had been to other tattoo-shops before, he has probably heard a few unkind things about his wish. But not everybody is a fan of that 'love one person for the rest of your life'-concept and Pete understands it.

"I do. Show it to me, so I can see what I can do."

He switches on the light over the counter. The guy is already rolling up his cardigan on his left arm and stretches it out towards Pete.

But when Pete grabs the wrist and pulls it into the light, he almost wishes he had not, wishes he had closed the shop before the guy stepped in. Because that guy has Pete's fucking name tattooed on his wrist - in Pete's bold-lettered handwriting.

That guy is his soulmate and he wants Pete to remove the tattoo.

He feels like he's just been punched. Or drowning. This is his soulmate. Patrick, whom he had been waiting for all this time. And he should tell him that, he wants to tell him that.

But he can't. Patrick – and it's kind of weird to call him by his name, too intimate for someone he just met and shouldn't know the name of - doesn't want to meet his soulmate and obviously doesn't even want to be reminded of such a thing.

If Joe were here he would make Pete tell. If Pete is 'pro-soulmate', Joe is their leader. Probably because he already found his soulmate and they're living happily ever after right now.

Of course there's always a possibility that you never meet your soulmate or it just doesn't work out, but you never think about the worst case. You think about all the great chances - friendship, love, someone to share everything with. And Pete wants that, always wanted that. He wants to be that for someone, too.

What is he supposed to do? When he looks at Patrick again his stomach sinks. Not standing here like an idiot rubbing his thumb against Patrick's wrist is probably a good first step.

"Well..." Pete starts and tries to pull his hand back without looking like a weirdo. Patrick already looks at him as if he's questioning Pete's sanity.

"Can you do it?" Patrick asks and pulls his hand back, too, rolling the sleeve of his cardigan down until its even covering his hand. It's such an obvious move, to hide, Pete knows exactly what that feels like.

He is glad he's wearing gloves right now, covering his own tattoo. To Pete, his name on Patrick's skin instantly felt right. But Patrick wants it removed and that kind of stings – more than Pete wants to admit.

"Yeah... sure." Pete has the tools and skills to do it and if it were anybody else he wouldn't even hesitate. But this is Patrick, the one he's been holding on for and waited for. Pete is not sure he can do it emotionally.

"May I... ask why you want it removed?" It's none of his business, but he wants to know it, needs to know it. Pete stands perfectly still, just tapping his foot where Patrick can't see it behind the counter to release the nervous energy, waiting for Patrick's answer.

And his answer might be the only one Pete can understand.

"Because nobody asked me if I wanted it in the first place and I'm not going to let some tattoo dictate who I fall in love with." Patrick looks confident when he says it and Pete almost feels bad for him.

"Besides, he's probably some rich snob. Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the THIRD?", he then says and Pete's sympathy flies out the window. Really, like he hadn't heard that one before.

"If you don't want to do it, you can just say so, you wouldn't be the first."

And this right here is Pete's 'get out of jail'-card. He doesn't have to do it.

But if Patrick wants the tattoo removed it's only a matter of time until he finds someone else and for a moment Pete thinks... if anyone erases his name from Patrick's wrist forever, then he wants to be the one do it. Crazy, right?

"No, I'll do it," he begins and it's not at all what he wanted to say because needs more time to think this through, maybe talk to Joe, so he backtracks, "I mean, I have to check... with my friend, Joe, if we have open spots."

He hopes Patrick doesn't see through his play, but judging by the way his face gets all hopeful Pete is sure he hasn't.

"Why don't you come back on monday, I have it figured out by then."

"That's the closest to a 'yes' I've ever heard on this topic. Thank you!" And for the first time since he entered Pete's shop, Patrick doesn't look uncomfortable or tense, he even smiles a little before he's turning around to leave.

The door-bell rings again, this time when Patrick leaves the shop, the door falling shut behind him.

When Patrick disappears behind the corner – out of his eyesight – Pete drops his head onto the counter, just barely fight off the urge to bash his head against the counter. It wouldn't help this situation at all. He really should have closed before Patrick got in, but that's too late now.

He is so, so screwed.