The Tattoo Guy (MCR FIC)

Chapter 21: Age 27

*A/N: Thank you so much for reading, voting, commenting, I love this fic escpecially since I picked it up from being a one shot to a frerard to something completely different. So thank you for reading and sticking with the story -Bec (MFK)

Chapter 21

Age 27

 

The feel of the machine buzzing in my hand feels foreign to me even after months of tattooing my insides flipped and fluttered as I watch the needles move and the sound of the motor rattle. It had been 4 months of nothing. 4 months of not having a place in this work- of being out of control and closing myself off to the world. After returning to my mother’s basement where I sat and brooded for a couple of days drowning myself in sweet poison; I decided to do what I had to do because I had nothing. Am nothing. I walked into ‘Clickers’ with bloodshot eyes and blood filmed in between my nails; as I stepped into the door I was greeted by Buck asking where his little princess was, of course I told him her bitch of a mother took her from me, I asked him for help- by the next day I had my own tattoo gun and I found myself to be a natural even if I was terrified of the idea. But needles were nothing compared to losing Ivy which only powered me to do it. I had made a deal with Buck and Ray that I would split shifts between each parlor although I don’t think they notice how I had taken up my vices again- if they did they didn’t mention it. I just needed to keep busy.

I dipped the needle into the ink watching it soak up the red then moved my arm so it rested against the chair so it didn’t shake- I blinked until my eyes focused and poised the gun to the woman’s skin before applying pressure and moving the needle in circles as I applied the color to the thick black outline of the rose on her arm. “I’ve been waiting so long for this tattoo, I thought it was important for me to get it done now or I may have never got round to it.” The woman says as I get to work, she’s a nice woman in her late 30’s, I just nod as I don’t trust myself to talk without slurring after a little break once I’d done the outline now I needed to keep a steady hand. “I was battling cancer when I was a teen and it wasn’t until about 11 years ago that I was finally clear, a year after that I had my daughter Rose, she stopped me from relapsing.” She continues and I finish with the red wiping it off the skin and taking my foot off the pedal to wipe the machine before dipping into the pink/peach color as I alter myself.

“You have a daughter?” I say as I keep my head down before altering my position and stepping on the pedal again so I can make the rose blend colors from red to pink to peach.

“Yeah, she’s 10 years old now and she’s the light of my life; do you have a family?” she asks me and I wish she hadn’t because I am forced to pull away from her skin and reach out my black gloved hand to my mug of coffee topped with tequila.

“I have a daughter. She’s gonna be 9 next month.” I say as my eyes flick to the little picture at my station, I know if she was here she’d disapprove of my habits just like I was with my dad. If she were here I would have any habits in the first place.

“Is that her?” she asks as I focus back on tattooing her arm; I see her wince a bit as I stay in one place for too long.

“Yeah, she’s my poison Ivy, if I ever got a tattoo it’d be for her too.” I finally meet the eyes of this woman and she gives me a gentle smile; we don’t talk after that.

We don’t talk until I’ve wrapped her up and gave her the printed information on the after care.

“You’re an amazing artist Gerard, thank you.” She pulls me in for a hug and I awkwardly put an arm around her to give a friendly gesture as she whispers in my ear; “you can get through this, you don’t need drink to prove yourself, she’ll come back to you- I promise- just stay strong.”

She pulls away with a hand on my shoulder and a weak smile, she turns grabs her jacket and moves to pay before leaving.

I feel broken. There’s this ache in my chest that stops me from breathing like there’s a weight pressing down onto it crushing my lungs that I have to gasp from breath. My pulse is heavy and slow making every vein in my body throb and every muscle cramp up. I’m trembling and a cold feeling possesses my blood.

I go back into the room I draw in and keep a table in there for tattoo’s where I need hours to focus, I grab my bag and pull out the little capsule of pills that keep me going- I pop out a three before chasing them down with a mouthful of Jack then pick up the little baggie I keep in the bottom of the bag- not open or touched but tempting me every second of the day, as I walk home I feel it cushion my thigh as the pills rattle and bottles clink. My hands shake as I pull out a cigarette and escape out the back so I can calm my hands and the feeling deep in the pit of my stomach.

“Out of the 10 coffee’s you’ve had today how many didn’t have anything else in it?” Buck asks as he stands outside against the wall next to me.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo, a tribal sleeve..”

“Cut the shit Gee, we’ve all noticed the drinking and the drugs, it’s been 4 months and we’re all worried about you.” He snaps and I roll my eyes. “You remind me of the kid I saw 9 years ago- the one who was one poke away from ending it. If you feel like you were gonna do something you’d come to me right?... Right?” He snaps when I don’t reply.

“As much as I want to I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, it hasn’t got to that stage but I don’t think I’d let it get that far.” I sigh as my cigarette comes to an end.

“I know it’s been hard on you with Ivy gone, the house and the gallery going under but maybe you need to put everything in check again like talk to Mandy or get your own place again- just get with the real world because one day they will stop waiting for you.” He says before deciding to give up and leave me alone.