by E M Lindsey
Basil had decided he wanted an entire forearm piece—more than just the flower, but he wanted Derek to design it, to come up with something that spoke to them both. It was a lot of pressure—and as an artist, it was his dream job. Not only to have the freedom, but the trust of the person in front of him to get it right.
His heart had been beating in his throat all morning, and his nerves took the place of his need for coffee. He was running on pure adrenaline as he stepped in through the back door and walked through to the main lobby, and he was ready to get settled in when he saw a familiar face in his brother’s stall.
Derek felt a small pang of betrayal when his eyes locked with Niko’s. The guy was leaning on Sage’s bench, and the two of them were bent over his ankle, discussing what looked like a very old, faded lion’s head right near his calf.
The silence and tension were almost tangible between them, then Niko cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. “Derek. Hey.”
Derek pursed his lips, looked over at his brother, but he didn’t see guilt, only a little awkward hesitation. “Hey,” he finally said.
“I swear I didn’t know you were coming in,” Niko rushed to explain. “I sort of surprised Sage—I figured if it was early enough, I’d miss you, and it wouldn’t be weird.”
“It’s fine,” Derek said a little tensely. He glanced at the clock and felt profound gratitude that Basil wasn’t coming in for another couple of hours. He turned his back away from Sage and pulled out his sketch pad. He’d been working on a few design ideas, but Basil was set on the entire thing being drawn fresh, on his skin. Derek had only done a couple of those, and only on Sage and Mat. He wanted to have at least some reference, but he realized the idea wouldn’t come to life—not fully—until his machine was buzzing in his hands and the image was pouring out through the ink.
Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts, a throat cleared and he glanced over his shoulder to see Niko there, hands fidgeting. “Look,” he said slowly, “I understand why you don’t want to talk to me again. I don’t blame you. I was a real shithead, and I think the worst part was, I didn’t realize why until after you left.”
With a tiny sigh, Derek dropped his pencil on the table and spun his stool around. He considered just telling the guy to fuck off, but in truth, Niko was a good person and Sage had been right about one thing—he deserved the chance to grow past shitty assumptions. “Not one single person in this shop lives life without some sort of accommodation. We got wheelchair users, amputees, brain injuries, PTSD.”
Niko blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know.”
“I get that. You don’t know us. And I get it, because working here, it’s easy to forget. Talking to these people every day, you don’t really think about it. Everyone’s chill and we’re family, man. We don’t let those things define each other. But some nights, we can’t help it. Like when I have a panic attack which fucks me up for days. When I can’t let anyone touch me because it sends me to a dark place. Or like when my buddy Sam is fighting the system because the government suits think a man with tattoos and a wheelchair can’t properly care for a kid. Like when my boss and the only man who’s ever treated me like a real son asks us all to learn his daughter’s language because she deserves the world to bend to her, and not the other way around. And it don’t matter if she’s the only one, you know? She still deserves it.”
He was breathing slightly heavy after that, carefully watching Niko’s expression as the man took it all in. He wasn’t sure what to expect, either. He didn’t think he’d deal too well if someone read him to filth without any sort of pull back or remorse, but Niko simply nodded and took a step back.
“I know. I knew it after you walked off and didn’t come back. I realized the kind of asshole I was because I had been lucky enough in life I never had to consider shit like that before, and I’m sorry.” He dragged a hand through his hair and glanced back, but Derek could see Sage had already vacated the main floor. When Niko looked back, his eyes were droopy and a little sad. “We had such a good time, and I fucked it up, and I’ll never stop being sorry for it.”
Derek felt a small pang in his chest. “It’s not okay, but it’s not something I plan to hold a grudge over.”
Niko’s lips twitched at the corners, like maybe he wanted to smile, though he didn’t let himself. “Would you,” he started, then stopped and huffed a breath, his eyes darting away for a second. “A drink? Would you go for a drink with me? Let me try again? Your brother was right about you—I like you and we could be good together. Even if it’s just as friends.”
Derek felt himself torn directly down the middle. Making headway with Basil felt like a tiny triumph, but he had no promise there would ever be more. And frankly, he didn’t exactly get along with most people, so it seemed a little reckless to let an opportunity like this pass him by. There was every chance that in the near future, his feelings for Basil would cool and he’d be ready to meet someone else.
That someone else might be standing right there in front of him.
“Yeah I…as friends. For now,” he clarified.
Niko’s face stilled, then he let himself grin, wide and sunny, eyes lit up with it. “Can I text you?”
“Yeah,” Derek said with a nod, then rolled back to his desk and turned around to face his table. “You can text me.”
***
Niko was long gone before Basil arrived for his session. Derek could feel the nerves on him, see it in the slight tremble of his fingers as he laid back in the chair and rested his arm on the cushioned side.
Derek had his gloves on, and he quickly pulled out his bottles of alcohol, witch hazel, and his tube of ointment. He watched Basil out of the corner of his eye as he dabbed some of the ointment on the little cups, then carefully filled them all with his colors. It would be simple today, he wanted outline and shading on the bloom, and a little shadow around it. And then…well, he wasn’t sure. He’d wait for Basil’s skin to speak to him, but he knew there would be more. Basil’s skin was singing for it.
When he finished up, he switched his gloves and grabbed his razor and bottle of alcohol. Before he began, he caught Basil’s eye and signed, ‘Nervous?’
Basil’s face twitched a little, then he let out a breathy laugh and held his hand out flat, see-sawing it back and forth.
‘Pain?’ he signed, trying desperately to recall the signs he’d practiced so diligently in order to communicate it all effectively with him. ‘You hate pain?’
Basil licked his lips, then signed, ‘New,’ mouthing the word along so Derek could be sure what he was saying.
‘If you want to stop, tap me,’ Derek told him, then gave his left arm a pat. ‘We will go slow, we can take breaks.’
Basil’s mouth eased into a smile, and he reached for the little notepad he’d brought with him. You practice all signs for today?
Derek flushed and quickly wrote back, Is it obvious?
Basil shook his head, but Derek knew it didn’t mean no. He was wearing a fond grin and his eyes were soft, like he might have even found it endearing. Ready to begin, ready to break the intensity between them, he carefully took Basil’s arm in his hand, sprayed it with the alcohol, and removed as much of the hair as he could. Tossing the razor in the bin, he swiped Basil’s arm down, then reached for his pen. He wasn’t going to do everything, but he was going to give himself a place to start. The pedals came to life in red ink as he sketched, just the bare outlines, the image more in his head than anywhere else. He could see it forming, taking shape, becoming something more beautiful and alive than the rough lines on Basil’s skin now. When he was finished, he stared at just how much of Basil’s arm it took up, and it looked right. Glancing up, he saw Basil’s gaze fixed on his arm, and it stayed there for a while. When he finally looked up, Derek nodded to him, and Basil’s lips stretched into a tight smile.
Derek had the machine prepped and ready, fresh gloves on, his fingers itching to take up his machine and get to work.
He
loved this part of the job more than anything, that first line drawn on fresh skin, watching the ink imbed itself into a person as a permanent symbol of his work. And with Basil, it felt deeper, it felt more important. He breathed out, then signed, ‘Ready?’
Basil’s own breath was a little shaky, but he shifted downward in the chair to get more comfortable, then nodded and motioned with his free hand for Derek to start.
Closing his eyes for a moment, just to ready himself, he switched on the machine and it whirred to life in his hand. Normally his first-time clients jumped a little at the sound, but he knew Basil wouldn’t react until he could feel it. He wondered what that would be like, to not know the impact of the first line until it hit your skin. He thought maybe it would be better like that, without the moment of overwhelming anticipation had by the loud buzz just before the needle sank in for the first time.
He smiled at Basil, an attempt to reassure him as he dipped the needle into the ink. He watched it drip down onto the table, then carefully reached over and laid his free hand over Basil’s. Their eyes met, and he tried his best to convey a message. I’ll take care of you, it will hurt, but it will be worth it. You’re safe with me.
Basil blinked after a moment, and he seemed to acknowledge it. His arm didn’t tense, so Derek brought the needle down and began.
***
Basil didn’t quite know how to describe the pain, except that it was startling and annoying, but not the agony he anticipated when he considered needles pulsing ink into his skin. The first touch jolted him, and he worried for a second like he’d caused Derek to slip, but the other man merely smiled serenely and met Basil’s eyes to reassure him it was fine.
And then he began to work, and it was possibly the most mesmerizing thing Basil had ever seen. Derek’s face was rapt with concentration and passion as he made short, clipped lines all around, not like the way he’d looked when he was merely drawing it out. The red lines soon became black. With every swipe of the kitchen paper, pulling away smears of ink, the tattoo started to come to life. The concentrated pain in every drag of the machine kept him consciously aware of what was happening, but he didn’t want to stop. Something about it made him want to keep going forever, for the pain to drag him to some place of euphoria and keep him there.
It was absurd, and maybe it was just his adrenaline talking, but really it didn’t matter. He was still here, and Derek’s free hand pressed to his skin, the glove warm as it kept him grounded like a ballast. Every so often, Derek would look up, their eyes would connect, saying a thousand things between them without voicing, without signing. Then he’d go back to work and lose himself again, and Basil would be helpless to look away.
Finally, when it felt like just short of eternity had passed, Derek stopped the machine. His skin felt numb in some places, stinging in others, and there was an almost visceral relief to have the vibrations go quiet. Derek swiped him down with something wet and a little soothing, then he grabbed some ointment and rubbed it into the skin.
It wasn’t done yet, that much was obvious. It was an outline, just the beginnings of what it would become, but already it was beautiful. He looked back up at Derek who was scribbling on a notepad, then he handed it over. Ten minute break, and if you’re up for it, we can keep going and I can fill and shade.
Basil just nodded, his hand not really up for moving enough to write a reply.
Derek didn’t seem to need one, and he took up the paper again. Do you want some food or drink? One of the guys usually gets dinner around now, and he can bring something.
Basil blinked, then grabbed his phone to tap out, Is it safe to eat during a tattoo?
Derek chuckled, his shoulders shaking with it as he replied, I’m not going to eat a sandwich and tattoo at the same time. It’ll be for after. But I can get you water or a fizzy drink. Or we have coffee. Whatever you want.
‘Water,’ Basil signed, tapping the edge of his W on his chin. He didn’t think caffeine would do him any favors being stuck in the chair for however long the rest of it took. Part of him wanted to tell Derek to save the rest for later—not just because his skin ached, but because it meant he’d have a reason to come back. But then again, he was sure this piece was far from over. He’d given Derek tacit permission to keep going for as long as he needed, until it was finished, and he knew this wasn’t it.
Watching Derek walk away, Basil studied the shining ink on his skin which was now marked forever, and he couldn’t help but smile. He turned on his camera and snapped a shot of the angry red, slightly raised lines, then sent it in a text to both Amaranth and Amit.
Amaranth: Nerd
Amit: That looks amazing. You done?
Basil: Shade flower sometime longer not sure time.
Amit: Right on, well send me a pic when it’s done. We can get a drink later if you want. I’m off at ten.
Basil: Text you.
He set his phone down just as Derek came back in and handed him a bottle of water. As Basil cracked the top, Derek took his arm and gently twisted it from side to side as he studied each line. When he was done, he gently set Basil’s arm down and signed, ‘You like?’
‘Beautiful,’ Basil replied. There was more he wanted to say, but Derek didn’t have the signs for it. Someday he would, someday Basil would be able to express just how much this meant to him, and he could be patient until then.
He sipped on his cool drink as Derek donned a fresh pair of gloves, then carefully sprayed something almost astringent onto a new bit of kitchen paper and wiped the ointment away. He adjusted his ink cups, added another shade of grey to the lineup, then looked back at Basil.
‘Ready?
Basil nodded and adjusted himself, laying his arm flat again. He watched as Derek drew his lower lip into his mouth, watched as he carefully extracted a new set of needles—these wider and a little more frightening—and set them into the machine. He watched the way Derek treated every piece on his table with a reverence and care that few people had for anything in their lives, and he wondered what it would be like to be treated that way. Would that be what real love was like? To have someone hold you and touch you like you were something precious?
Chad had said he loved Basil, but he had never touched him with sweetness. Possession, and mockery, and occasional concern—but never the way Derek did, as he gently laid his hand back down on Basil’s arm.
‘Ready?’ Derek asked again.
Basil wanted to tell him he’d be ready for the rest of his life, that he’d sit here and let Derek ink every exposed bit of skin if he wanted, if only it kept them in moments like these. But he didn’t say that—couldn’t, not in a way Derek would understand. So, he just nodded, and let his head fall back, and let himself feel it all.
10.
Derek’s gloved thumb gently felt over the raised lines of the tattoo as he smeared ointment over the work. It was a practice he did daily—several times a day depending on his work-load, and yet for some reason, it felt hollow right now. Maybe it was because three nights before, he’d finally gotten his hands on Basil’s skin. He’d felt him heat up and cool down, tense and relax, pull back then submit as Derek inked his skin.
Every client since then had been not enough. Each session lacked the intimacy of his work with Basil, and it was getting to him. With a heavy sigh, he sat back in his chair, watching the young girl leave. The second the door shut, he spun and eyed Tony who was putting together a new bookshelf for Kat’s stall.
“Can I ask you something?”
Tony turned, eyebrows raised. “Of course.”
“You’ve done a lot of Kat’s work, right? Like pretty much all of it?”
Tony put his screwdriver down and turned his chair to face Derek. “Yeah. She had a small sparrow on the back of her neck before we met, and the cover-up I did turned into her entire piece. Why?”
“I just,” Derek said, trying to find words that would make sense. “Was it different, working on her? I mean, when you started on her, were you two already a
thing?”
Tony’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “Not quite a thing yet, but we were getting there. And yeah, there was a different kind of intimacy there than with my usual clients.” He scratched the back of his head as he looked at Derek. “Something goin’ on with you?”
Derek felt his cheeks redden a little as he shrugged. “I’ve just…there’s a guy—a client, sort of…”
“The guy you workin’ on for free?” Tony asked.
Derek shrugged. “Might be, yeah. He’s just different. It’s different with him. At first, I thought it might be transference. He helped me out when I freaked out when I got locked in at the bank and my head can get a little nuts when it comes to that stuff. But it just…hasn’t stopped.”
“He’s the guy you started the class for,” Tony pointed out.
Derek felt a wave of guilt. “You know that’s for Jazz, Tony. You know she’s important to me.”
Tony laughed. “Yeah, but it also don’t surprise me that it took the promise of good dick to rush you through the door. I ain’t mad about it, Der. I know you love my girl. She loves you just as much, and you’d get there no matter what. But why you askin’ me this?”
“Because it felt different the other night,” Derek told him. “It’s never been like that before, working on someone, and I’ve had some pretty intense regulars over the years. People I know better than I know myself. But today—it’s felt all fucked up. Working on other people feels empty and wrong. Like…like…”
“Like you’re cheating?” Tony offered, and when Derek flushed again, he laughed and shook his head. “That’s normal. And that won’t last forever. Hell, won’t even feel the same tomorrow. But you damn well know this is intimate shit, here. We’re leaving our mark—sometimes on strangers we’ll never see again. They’ll be carryin’ a piece of us for life, and even if they get that shit covered up, we’re still there. When you cross that line and mark someone who might be special to you, it changes things a little. Adds a layer you don’t feel with anyone else. You learn to separate it, but it takes a little time.”
