Chapter 10
The soft hum of the tattoo gun filled the room as I laid back on the chair, feeling the familiar buzz against my skin. It had been months in the making, my back piece. A sprawling design that started at the base of my spine and stretched up to my shoulders, a masterpiece of dark, intricate details. Evan had worked so hard on it, each session taking hours, each line perfecting the piece more and more. His talent was beyond anything I could ever have imagined, and every time I looked in the mirror, I felt like I was staring at a piece of art that only he could have created.
Tonight, though, was different. It was the final session. The last time I’d sit in this chair, the last time Evan would touch me with his ink stained hands as he worked his magic. I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or sad that it was ending, but I knew one thing for sure: I couldn’t wait to see the final result.
Evan leaned over me, his hand gently adjusting the skin of my back to get a better angle. His touch was light but firm, so familiar. I could feel his breath near my ear as he worked, and a little shiver ran down my spine. “Almost there, Bat,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of that quiet confidence he always carried. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m good,” I said, grinning up at him. “Just don’t stop now. I want to see the whole thing finished.”
Evan chuckled softly, his fingers gliding over the tattoo, careful and precise. I couldn’t help but notice how perfect his hands looked as they worked, so steady, so sure. His hands were made for this, and that thought made my heart swell with pride. This was his work on my skin. This was him marking me, and in turn, I was marking him.
“So, have you thought about what you’re getting next?” Evan asked casually, his tone light, but there was a hint of curiosity in his voice.
I let out a little laugh. “Oh, I’ve thought about it,” I said, my grin growing wider. I couldn’t help it. I’d been thinking about this for a while, and now that it was almost time for me to have the final piece done, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “I want you to tattoo a rose on me. Right here.” I placed my hand on the side of my chest, just above my heart, where the ink already seemed to flow like a river across my body, the designs that symbolized so much of who I was.
Evan’s hand paused for a brief moment, and I could feel his eyes on me, though I couldn’t see his expression from where I lay. But I knew that look. That soft, surprised look. He didn’t say anything immediately, but I could feel the question in the air. He was trying to figure out why I’d want something so personal.
“I want everyone to know I’m yours,” I added, my voice soft but serious. “I want people to see that this is a commitment. That I’m yours, Evan. And a rose, a rose is something that shows beauty, but also something deeper. Something I can always have, something that’s always gonna be with me, just like you.”
I felt his fingers run gently along the lines of my tattoo, a little smile tugging at his lips. “You’re cheesy as hell,” he murmured, but I could tell there was a warmth to his tone. He liked it. He liked it because it was me, and it was real.
“Yeah, well,” I teased, “You’re the one who’s always making me wear your hoodie, so I think I’ve got a right to be cheesy.”
Evan laughed, his hands continuing to work on the tattoo. “I’m not complaining. I love it.”
I nodded, my thoughts drifting for a moment before I continued. “And Evan, there’s something else. I want to do something for you, too. Something that’ll show you’re mine. Something that’ll make it official.”
There was a moment of silence, and I could practically feel the intrigue from Evan. He leaned closer, his breath warming my ear as he whispered, “What did you have in mind?”
I took a deep breath, my heart beating a little faster as I felt the weight of the words I was about to say. “I want to tattoo a bat on you, right here.” I placed my hand gently on his shoulder, the place where I imagined it would sit perfectly, right next to the ink already decorating his skin. “A bat because you’re my everything, and I want people to see you and know. I want them to know you belong to me, too.”
Evan froze for a moment, and I could almost hear the surprise in his silence. “A bat?” he repeated slowly, a smile creeping onto his face.
I nodded. “Yeah, a bat. You know, because I’m your bat.”
Evan laughed, the sound light and full of affection. “You really are something, Bat. A rose, and now a bat. I think you’ve got a thing for symbolism, huh?”
“I do,” I said simply, my voice steady, “I’m yours, and I want everyone to know. I want you to feel it too, every time you look in the mirror and see the bat on your skin. I want it to remind you of me. Of that you are mine and always will be.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before Evan spoke, his voice soft and warm. “I think I can do that. I want to feel that, too. I want everyone to know you’re mine as much as I’m yours.”
The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound being the gentle hum of the tattoo gun as Evan worked. My heart was racing, but I didn’t feel anxious. I felt content, like everything was falling into place perfectly. This was us, intense, affectionate, and so deeply intertwined in ways that only we could understand.
Evan’s hand continued to move, steady and sure, as he finished the last few touches on my back. The tattoo was beautiful. The intricate details, the shading, everything was perfect. I felt the weight of it settling in, knowing that this was the mark of what had started out as friendship but now more, so deep, it was etched into my skin.
“You’re done,” Evan murmured after a few moments, stepping back to admire his work. I slowly sat up, stretching my back, feeling the tender skin, the weight of the design. I reached for a mirror to look at the final product, a proud smile spreading across my face. It was everything I had wanted. More than that, it was us.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered, my voice full of awe. “You’re amazing, Rosie.”
Evan leaned in, brushing his lips against my forehead. “I’m glad you like it, Bat.”
There was a long pause before I spoke again, a little grin tugging at the corners of my lips. “You know, I think I need a reminder, too. A little bat on you sounds just right.”
Evan laughed, shaking his head fondly. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Yeah,” I said with a grin, leaning in to kiss him softly. “But you love me anyway.”
“I do,” Evan admitted, his smile tender. “I love you more than anything.”
And I knew, in that moment, with my tattoo still fresh and Evan’s hands still warm on my skin, that this was what it meant to truly belong to someone. To be a part of something so deeply rooted in love that even the ink on our skin couldn’t fully express it.
But we’d try anyway. Because we were, in every sense, each other’s. And there was no one else I’d ever want to mark myself with.
The soft glow of the studio lights cast a warm ambiance as Evan and I stood together, our eyes locked. It felt like the world outside didn’t exist, as if the only thing that mattered was this moment, right here, right now. We were both covered in ink, his design on me, mine soon to be on him. Everything felt perfectly right.
I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and my heart fluttered a little. He was so easy to love, easy to be around. Even in moments when he teased me or when I was being extra bratty, I could always count on him to love me back, without hesitation.
"Alright," Evan finally broke the silence, his voice rich with affection, "let's get that bat on me, yeah?"
I grinned at him, my pulse quickening at the thought of marking him, just like he’d done for me. "Are you sure? Once it's on there, it's not going anywhere. You'll be mine forever."
Evan smirked, clearly enjoying the playful yet intense tone in my voice. "I think I can handle it," he said with a wink. "Besides, I think it'll be nice to have a little piece of you on me, Bat."
The nickname had always made my heart skip, but now it held even more meaning. I watched as he made his way to the chair next to mine, sitting down and rolling up his sleeve. There was a casualness to him that made everything feel so natural. So easy. But I knew underneath it all, it was more than just ease. It was love. A love that didn’t need to be shouted from the rooftops because we had our own quiet, beautiful way of showing it.
I set the tattoo machine to work, my hands steady as I began to outline the bat on his skin. The steady hum of the gun filled the air once more as I concentrated, every line feeling like a promise. A promise that I was his, and he was mine. His shoulder, the one I was working on, felt warm beneath my touch. My heart raced a little, not from nerves, but from the intensity of it all. Every move of the needle was a brushstroke on our love story.
Evan didn’t flinch. He just sat there, watching me with a soft smile on his lips, every now and then catching my eye with a look that made me feel like the luckiest person in the world. "You okay?" I asked, pausing for a moment to check in.
"I’m perfect, Bat," he said softly, his voice steady and calm. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."
I felt a surge of emotion rise up in me, something deep and raw, and I couldn't help but smile. "Me neither."
He chuckled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin. "You're making me all sappy. Not sure if that’s part of the deal with getting tattoos, but it's kind of cute."
I laughed, feeling the warmth of his touch linger long after his hand had pulled away. "Yeah, well, you’re kind of stuck with me now," I said playfully, continuing to work on the tattoo.
"And I wouldn’t have it any other way," he replied, his voice soft, the sincerity in his words making my heart skip.
As the bat began to take shape on his arm, I felt a rush of affection so strong, it almost felt like I was tattooing my heart onto his skin. This was more than just ink. It was a bond, something permanent, something that would always remind us of the love we had for each other. And as I finished the last little detail, I took a step back, my gaze lingering on the now complete bat design.
"There," I said quietly, my heart full. "Now you're mine forever."
Evan looked down at his shoulder, his eyes softening as he traced the outline of the bat with his fingers. "It’s perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you."
I could see the way he was absorbing the significance of it, how important it was for him too. This wasn’t just about the tattoo. It was about us. About how we’d found something real. Something lasting. He was marking me, I was marking him, but really we were marking each other in a way that was far deeper than just ink on skin.
"Of course," I said, my voice thick with love. "Anything for you."
Evan turned to face me then, his eyes intense, searching. For a moment, the world felt still, as if it had paused to let us fully absorb this moment together. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, pulling me into him. His arms wrapped around me, holding me so tightly I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my chest. My hands found their way to his shoulder, gently tracing the lines of the tattoo I had completed, still warm from the fresh ink.
"I love you," he murmured into my ear, the words simple but carrying more weight than anything else. "So much."
I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, my own filled with emotion. "I love you too, Evan. Always."
And in that moment, I knew. I knew that tattoos were just the surface of what we shared. We were intertwined in ways that couldn’t be seen or touched, our love was something that lived in the quiet moments, the small gestures, the way we fit together so perfectly. It was in the way he cared for me, the way I trusted him completely. It was in the tattoos we wore as symbols of our love, but it was so much more than that.
As I looked down at my back, now covered in his art, and at his shoulder, now marked by my love, I realized something. Tattoos might fade over time, but what we had would never change. Not ever.
We were connected. I was his, and he was mine, in every way that mattered.
"How about we get out of here?" Evan said, his smile warm as he reached for my hand.
"Sounds perfect," I replied. "Let’s go make more memories."
It was one of those nights where the world outside seemed distant, muffled by the thick walls of our little apartment. The soft sounds of the heater was the only sound, and the golden glow of the kitchen lights illuminated the tiny space we shared, making everything feel warm and cozy.
I was sitting on the couch, curled up under a soft blanket with a steaming cup of hot chocolate in my hands. The marshmallows floated on top, soft and sweet, and the heat from the mug seeped into my palms. Evan was nearby, setting up his tattoo supplies at the kitchen table. He’d been a little quieter than usual tonight, but I didn’t mind. It wasn’t the silence that felt odd, it was the anticipation. Tonight felt important.
I could feel it in the air, a kind of energy, a connection that was palpable. This time, though, it was going to be different. I wanted him to do the tattoos the way I had first started in highschool: raw, personal, just a needle and ink. I didn’t want the buzzing of a machine or the sterile feel of a studio. I wanted it to be just us.
The rose was a tattoo I’d been thinking about for a while, since I had met Evan. A symbol of love, of us, of everything I wanted to say but could never find the words for. But more than that, I wanted Evan to feel it too, the connection, the deep love between us, and the way I needed to mark myself as his. I wanted to feel the ink seep into my skin, feel the pressure of his hand guiding the needle, feel him with me in the most intimate way possible.
I set my cup down, watching him as he moved around, prepping the needle, mixing the ink. His hands were steady as ever, the quiet focus on his face something I always found comforting. He glanced over at me, a small smile curling on his lips as he walked over, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.
“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft, the same warmth that filled the room seeping into his words.
“Yeah.” I felt a little shiver run through me at the thought of him marking me, but it wasn’t fear, it was excitement. It was love. “I want you to do it, just like before. No machines. Just you.”
His smile grew, a bit of surprise in his eyes, but also something else, something I couldn’t quite place but knew I loved. He nodded, walking back to the table, and then I saw him pause for a second, like he was deciding something.
“Alright,” he said, grabbing the needle and looking over his shoulder. “But just so you know, I’m not going easy on you.”
I laughed softly. “I wouldn’t want you to.”
He chuckled and set to work, and I got comfortable, sitting on the couch with my blanket wrapped around me, the warmth of the hot chocolate still spreading through my veins. He came over to me, his presence so close, and I felt that familiar spark in my chest as he sat down behind me.
His fingers brushed lightly against my back, sending a thrill through me. “Where do you want it?”
I leaned forward, pulling the blanket just slightly away from my chest. “Right here. A rose.”
Evan studied my skin for a moment, his eyes focused on the spot, and then he nodded, the quiet determination returning to his face. “Okay,” he said simply, and then, with a deep breath, the needle was on my skin.
The first press of the needle made me wince, but it wasn’t as bad as I expected. I could feel the ink spread, could feel Evan’s careful touch as he worked. It was different this time, more intimate, more real. Every time the needle touched my skin, I could feel it marking me, marking me as his.
“You’re doing great,” Evan murmured, and his voice was like a soothing balm against the sting. His hand was steady, but I could tell he was focused, the concentration evident in the way he held the needle, the way he checked the ink after each line.
I closed my eyes for a second, letting myself just feel it. The pressure. The slight burn. The way his hands were so careful with me, like he always was. I felt it deep in my chest, that connection between us, like the ink wasn’t just on my skin, it was in me, too.
“I love you,” I whispered without thinking, and I felt him pause for just a moment. It wasn’t a shock to either of us; it was a truth we shared every day, but tonight, it felt heavier, more meaningful.
Evan’s voice was soft as he spoke. “I love you too, Bat.”
The needle pressed down again, and I felt the cool rush of the ink flow into my skin. I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted this moment, this night, to last forever. The warmth of his presence, the quiet intimacy, the way he was tattooing me with such care, everything felt right.
As he finished, I could feel the tattoo starting to take shape, a perfect, delicate rose blooming on my chest, a symbol of everything he was. Evan’s fingers gently traced over it when he was done, checking the lines. “How’s that?”
I turned slightly to look at him, my heart beating a little faster. It was perfect. “It’s perfect. Just like you.”
He smiled and leaned down to kiss me softly, the taste of chocolate still lingering on my lips. “You sure?” he asked, his voice teasing, but I could see the pride in his eyes, the satisfaction that came from creating something so personal, so beautiful.
“Yeah,” I said, resting my head against his chest. “It’s perfect.”
There was a brief silence, and then I felt his hand slide down my arm, gently holding it. “You’re mine, you know,” he said quietly, the words sending a shiver through me. “Just as much as I’m yours.”
I smiled softly, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest. “I know,” I whispered, feeling more loved, more cherished, than I ever had. “I’m yours, Rosie. Always.”
We stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in our little world, the heat from our mugs of hot chocolate still in the air, the quiet of our home wrapping around us like a cocoon. We didn’t need to say anything more. In that moment, it was enough. We had each other, and that was all that mattered.
And as the night stretched on, and the rose on my chest settled into my skin, I knew this was just one of many marks he’d leave on me, on my heart, my soul, my life. And I’d never want it any other way.