His Darkness, My Desire

Years Later.......

"Fuck that hurts," he hisses through his teeth, and I bite down on my lip not to smile at how ridiculous he's being.

"It's the first line, you need to relax, focus on something else," I reassure softly, brushing his long hair out of his face.

"A kiss might help," he smiles coyly, then immediately grimaces and curses as the tattooist continues with another line.

I smile sympathetically as I lean down and press a quick kiss to his soft lips. "It's only small, it won't take long, Jacobs really fast."

I glance towards Jacob, who's fighting, rolling his eyes as he continues the tattoo.

It's literally only two words; I have no idea how he got through his other tattoos if this is how he acted with them.

"You know, as my girlfriend, you're not meant to find it funny when I'm in pain," he huffs out with his teeth clenched, watching my face as I bring my hand up to cover my mouth and hide my smile.

I clear my throat, wiping my hand away to show a serious expression, "It's not funny, I promise."

"Shit!" he hisses again, his voice cracking at a high pitch, twitching at the pain he's in.

I snort, slapping my hand over my mouth again, earning a glare from him.

"Mate, you need to keep still, otherwise this is going to say 'Dag Free' instead of 'Drug Free,'" Jacob says flatly, pausing the machine and trying his best to cover how fed up he is with tattooing my whining boyfriend.

I look at Jacob with an apologetic smile, mouthing 'I'm sorry,' and he presses his lips together, shaking his head as he starts tattooing again.

Jacob was doing me a favour tattooing Andy, I may have used the fact he was dating my best friend to my advantage to convince him to do it, considering he isn't the biggest fan of him.

Andy is sweet, but his personality tends to rub some people the wrong way, Jacob definitely being one of those people. I know I'm going to owe him a lot for this.

I'm already paying him double.

"How about I go get you a drink, or something sweet to take your mind off it?" I suggest running my hands through his hair to try to soothe him.

I'll admit, he's acting like a giant baby right now. It's only on his wrist, and I know Jacob isn't a heavy-handed tattooist.

Although... I wouldn't put it past him to be drilling the needle in a bit more, just out of annoyance that he's having to do this.

I would have never thought I would be someone who knew anything about tattoos, let alone have them myself. It's amazing what can happen in a few years.

Andy nods, giving me a sad puppy look with those big brown eyes of his. "That'd help. I need something; this is unbearable."

Christ, you'd think he's giving birth, not getting a tattoo the size of a pack of gum.

I keep my thoughts to myself about how dramatic he's being, standing from my seat next to him, "I'll be back soon, it'll be done before you know it."

I look at Jacob, and he looks up at me under his brows, shooting me a look that screams 'Fuck you for leaving me here alone with him'.

"I'll be back soon," I say reassuringly, Andy not realising my words were meant for Jacob.

"Okay, sweet pea, Miss you already," Andy says tightly, letting out a shout when Jacob presses the machine down harder suddenly.

I scowl at Jacob, and he just shrugs his shoulders coyly. "Sorry mate, just making sure the ink goes in."

Bullshit, I know he did that on purpose.

I grab my bag and straighten up my dress, turning to make my way to the front of the tattoo studio, waving politely to the other people who work there or clients as I walk past.

The door dings as I walk out the front, making my way to the small convenience store next door to the studio.

It's a beautiful day today, it's unconventionally warm for July in Melbourne, and I'm glad I took the opportunity to wear one of my summer dresses.

It's funny how when I first moved here, dresses weren't something I even owned - well, except for that black one. Whereas now, my wardrobe is far more adventurous, not that a dress is adventurous, but the style of dresses and clothing I feel confident enough to wear now would have my mother blowing a blood vessel in her forehead.

That's why I have a special section of my wardrobe designated for the rare occasion she visits, considering I haven't set foot back in that town since I left.

I'm proud of the life I've made for myself these last three years. I've grown a lot as a person and tend not to be as awkward and shy as I used to be - but I still have a bit of a problem with it, and I don't think that will ever change.

Part of me still feels like that same girl, though, that same shy small town girl, while I've managed to start a new life and get independence here, I still tend to stay in the bubble of my job, apartment, and boyfriend, as well as my few friends.

Sophie still tries her hardest to get me to try new things or be spontaneous, but after the one time I tried stepping out of my comfort zone, which I've tried very hard to forget about, I swore all of that off - it's just not who I am.

I've accepted it now.

Some people in life are just meant to play it safe and leave the thrill-seeking behaviour to those who can handle it.

I think that's what I love about Andy, he's safe. I met him at work when he came in for a coffee two years ago, and he was just as shy as I was, and I found it really endearing.

He works for his father's company selling medical insurance, and he has his whole life mapped and planned out exactly how he wants it, it's like this dot point list of how things will be for the next thirty years, he'll never deviate from it - sometimes it's a bit much when he's also planned out my future along with his once we got more serious, slotting me into it like an appointment - but I think it just shows he cares enough to see his life with me.

Andy is very strict with his lifestyle and always likes to be in control of his surroundings. He's never drank, smoked, or even been in the same room as drugs or anything illegal, which explains his tattoo choice today - he's very passionate about it.

He thrives on routine, and while sometimes things get a bit repetitive, it's nice that I don't have to worry about the unexpected.

Predictable isn't always boring; sometimes it's necessary.

I walk down the aisles of the convenience store, grabbing a few chocolate bars and some lollipops. I kind of feel like I'm rewarding a small kid for being well-behaved at the dentist.

I walk to the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and head to the front counter.

"Hey Bob," I smile, looking over to the old, short bald man with the thick glasses.

"Evelyn, good to see you again, darling', is this all for today?" his gruff voice asks, raspy from years of chain smoking, as he rings up the items I've placed on the counter.

Bob is like that man who instantly feels like your grandfather; he's very sweet, and I always enjoyed talking to him whenever I came in here back when I spent a lot more time at the tattoo studio.

Sophie worked there for a while doing reception, and that's how she and Jacob met. I would always spend days off hanging out with her while she was at work, and that's how I ended up letting curiosity get the better of me and getting my first tattoo, which then led to several others.

They're very addictive.

I just can't have them anywhere visible unless I feel like getting thrown in an early grave by my mother; she would have my head if she knew I'd even stepped foot in a tattoo studio.

"That's it for today. How's your wife?" I smile politely.

"Still alive, unfortunately," Bob sighs, placing everything in a bag.

"She can't be that bad, you married her," I frown.

"Never drink tequila in Vegas, darling', you wake up with a headache that you can't get rid of for thirty years," he looks at me over the rim of his glasses, lifting his brows as I hand him the money for the few things I'd bought.

"I'll try and remember that," I say, grinning as he hands me the bag.

"Always a pleasure seeing you, be good," he gives me a playful, stern look as I turn to make my way out of the store.

"I can't make any promises," I laugh, looking back at him over my shoulder, waving as I reach for the front door.

I swing the door open, slamming into someone that feels like a brick wall and dropping my bag on the ground with a yelp.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" I gasp, resting my hands on my cheeks in embarrassment.

I still have a terrible habit of not looking where I'm going or being clumsy.

I look to the man that I collided with, as he bends down to pick up my bag, and I instantly recognise him.

I haven't seen him in three years.

He stands up straight, giving me a friendly smile. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I wasn't looking where I was going either."

He holds the bag out towards me, laughing lightly, and I glance at him briefly, my cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

"Thank you," I say quietly, taking the bag.

I'd remember those face tattoos anywhere; he was the bartender from the one night I'd tried to 'live a little'.

I haven't seen him around here before. Maybe he is getting tattooed next door?

He steps to the side politely, holding the door open for me. "It was nice running into you," he jokes.

"You too," I mumble shyly, ducking my eyes down and making a beeline out of the door.

It wouldn't be a normal day if I didn't make a complete twat out of myself at least once.

I decide to sit on the seat out front of the studio, giving myself a few moments alone to get over my embarrassment before I have to go back inside and hold Andy's hand while Jacob tries to murder me with his eyes.

I take one of the lollipops from the bag, unwrapping it and popping it in my mouth. I think I'm the one who needs a treat like a kid who's just bruised their knee at the moment.

It's always my dignity getting bruised.

I watch the traffic passing by, looking around at all the people making their way about their day. I think I find it more fascinating than I should to watch people, but it can be nice seeing the small moments people have, looking from the outside.

People are complicated creatures, and I struggle to understand them a lot of them time, I know I'm naive but I don't think it's such a bad thing, so watching their mundane interactions can sometimes be fascinating to me, often wondering about their life or making up fantastical scenarios in my head about who they might be or what their life might be like.

I suppose I have a bit of an Alice in Wonderland complex; I'm too curious for my own good.

My phone dings, catching my attention as I dig it out of my bag, pressing the button to turn on the screen.

My entire body freezes, my jaw dropping as I read the name on the screen of who has messaged me.

Lucas.

I haven't heard from him since that night. I didn't think I would ever again - I hoped I wouldn't again.

Why is he messaging me? Why does he even still have my number?

I pull the lollipop from my mouth to save it from falling out of my gaping expression, and my thumb trembles slightly as I press the screen to open the message.

Lucas

Sent 3.05 pm:

I spy with my little eye.......a cute little mouse.

I whip my head up, frantically scanning my eyes around the people on the street for that same figure that's haunted my dreams for years now, but my panic turns into confusion when he's nowhere to be found.

How can he see me? Where the hell is he?

He's back.