• r y n •

“Jarren,” you regain your smile, but almost longingly. There’s a glimmer of hope and something else in your eyes as you look at him

“What brings you in?” you continue to put your stuff away, expecting the usual late night chats he tends to come in for.

“Looking to get something new. Forgot you close about now though,” he lies. He knows your shops’ schedule like the back of his hand. Hell, he’s walked you home more times than he can remember,

“I don’t wanna be a bother though.”

“Bother? With you?” you smile, “Never.”

Slowly but methodically, you start getting the stuff that you had just put away back out. Paper towels, alcohol, wet wipes. You wrap the chair back in plastic. You get your tattoo gun off the charger. You set it all back up, for him.

Cause how could you say no? He’s your everything and nothing at the same time.

You can feel him watching you and it almost makes you drop what you’re holding.

“What’re you thinking?” you fill the pause with conversation, hoping it’ll steel your nerves.

Jarren pulls out his phone and swipes through a few photos before finding what he’s looking for. He turns his phone towards you.

“Hmm. Cute,” you smile at him as you finish setting your world back up.

“Thought you’d like it.”

“I do. It’s very you.”

That’s the last thing you say before beginning your prep. You start to feel the fatigue of the day wear off as you get back into the rhythm. Once you fire up your gun, you give him a quick nod before getting to work.

The first few minutes are filled with silence. For a second, he thinks that you really aren’t going to press him any further.

You always do though.

“So why did you really come here?” you finish a line and wipe the excess ink, “Not that you don’t love my work but.. there’s another reason isn’t there?”

He pauses for a minute. The words are on the tip of his tongue:

I wanted to see you. I miss you. I love you.

“Needed a break from the noise,” he ends up saying. You give him a look. He knows that you know he’s lying.

“Well that’s understandable. Your whole job is noise.” That gets a laugh out of him and you smile.

“But how is the world of the Red Sox these days? I’ve been too busy to go to games recently.” And the tension is gone as he goes into a few stories about road games, clubhouse shenanigans, and walkoff wins.

You laugh at the good ones, give him sympathy for his slumps, but you just listen.

And, Jarren thinks, he really needed this, needed you.

The conversation doesn’t lag as you finish up the last stroke on the piece. It couldn’t have taken longer than thirty minutes, but it always feels like the time flies when he visits. It’s comfortable with him, you realize.

“Alright Mr. Duran I do say this is probably my best work yet,” you say as you snap a few photos and apply the saniderm.

“You say that every time.”

“Yeah but I mean it this time. It’s simple, but damn it’s good.” He can’t deny that.

“How much?”

“Don’t. Don’t worry about it.” You always feel bad charging him. Especially for something so small. He gives you a look.

“No, how much?”

“Seriously. I’m sure it’ll come back around. We’ve always been good about that.” Jarren can’t deny that. Still, when you start to clean up he slips cash into your tip jar.

“Well I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you the aftercare.” He smiles at you again.

“No, I don’t.” You both still for a moment. There’s nothing else to do, nothing else to say. Yet neither of you wants to make the step to leave each other’s bubble.

“Hey,” he starts. You look at him expectantly and he stutters.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He falters. Too scared to burst the bubble.

“Yeah. Always,” you give him one last smile as he leaves.

It feels colder outside as he leaves. And he hopes that one day he’ll step further into your world and not out of it.