HEMP ROPE

12.

At a tattoo studio.

 

"You wanna hold hands?" The man covered in tattoos smirked.

 

He skipped classes in England, coming to Thailand just to bring Team to get a tattoo as promised.

 

Team frowned. "Can't you just look?"

 

This one studio belonged to Win's senior friend. It was clean, up to standard and credible. Dean and Win also got all his tattoos here.

 

After their bickering over which design to use for a tattoo, Team decided on a graphic on his upper arm. He was waiting, mostly thrilled.

 

"Shall we begin?" The skinhead tattoo artist smiled after applying anaesthesia for a while, then he began his work.

 

The pain wasn't unbearably painful, but Team still bit his lips tight when the needle pricked against his skin. He looked away, not looking good. His hands clenched tight; even the tattoo artist felt it. Yet before the artist said anything, the young man suddenly became relaxed.

 

Team's eyes shifted down to his feet. His free hand was intertwined with the hand of the person sitting next to him. Win didn't say anything, didn't tease; he just sat there, indifferently playing on his cellphone while squeezing Team's hand as reassurance. A warm, moist sensation from Win's hand made Team realise that Win was probably more excited than he was.

 

Damn.

 

Team bit his lips tighter in frustration. Team bit his lips tighter, frustrated at himself. My fucking mouth is smiling.

 

"Does it hurt a lot?" Win couldn't help but ask.

"No."

 

"Then why are you biting your lips?"

 

"Just leave me be. You just sit and play with your phone." Despite a salty tone, his thumb caressed the other's hand. This time, the former swimming club vice president bit his lip and cursed, huffing to himself.

 

"Ok, five-minute break." The tattoo artist removed the needle. Once he looked up, he had to roll his eyes and turn away as his client and the former client's face moved closer together and kissed as if he wasn't there.

 

Ok, let's make it a ten-minute break!