Zombie

‘’So,’’ Zombie asks, ‘’Why did you decide to get tattooed?’’

It’s their second appointment and they haven’t exchanged any words yet, beside the awkward ‘’hellos,’’ and ‘’How are you’’s. Zombie, it turns out, is a quiet guy; Thor had assumed, from their first encounter, that it was the ‘’I’m better than all of you’’ thing. Granted, he really has the unapproachable asshole niche covered for the both of them, but it isn’t quite that. Thor just has the feeling.

So, here they are, sitting in the same small, white room, with different versions of the same sketch laying on the table. Thor examines them closely: They aren’t quite the same, but they’re not that different either, which makes it even harder to choose. Oh, and they’re hand-drawn, all of them, separately, from scratch, not prints of one altered original.

The silence stretches and stretches around them. It’s been around an hour. Honestly, Thor all but expected to get snapped at for quite some time now and he would have it coming. But Zombie surprises him here too: he’s patient and laid back; he is not looking at Thor pointedly, hinting him to hurry the hell up. He isn’t looking at him, period; he’s got his nose down in sketchbook, working on yet another version of the  design, the one that will probably make Thor’s meddling slower and less effective.

So, the question hits him unexpectedly. At first Thor’s not sure if it’s really been asked or he has just imagined it.

‘’I dunno,’’ he says, expecting the backlash of snarky, sardonic comment or a glare or two.

Zombie just looks up for a second, studying him, then sighs and nods.

‘’Why?’’

‘’Why what?’’

‘’Why do you want to know?’’ Thor clarifies.

Zombie shrugs.

‘Why did you?’’ Thor asks back, jumping on the chance to throw that out there without sounding like a creep or judgemental asshole.

He expects some generic answer. Or being told off, because, in all honesty, that it’s none of his goddamn business. What he doesn’t expect the other man to freeze like the deer in the headlights, his breathing accelerating to an alarming degree.

‘’I…’’ he stammers, clutching the sketchbook to his chest, ‘’I… Just like it.’’

Well, that’s a fuckin lie if Thor’s ever heard one. He nods nonetheless.

‘’They’re beautiful. Suits you.’’ He tries, in a desperate attempt to throw the conversation back into the friendly lane.

Well, if anything, that makes things worse. Zombie blinks up at him, his lips shaking a bit, eyes wide.  

‘’Thank you.’’ he says at last.

God, it sounds so fake .

Thor nods.

‘’You’re welcome.’’

That’s all of their conversation. After that, Thor’s too scared to bring up anything. What does he know, everything and anything could be a sore spot for this guy.

In the end, he settles on three different designs, taking them home. The originals too, not the prints! He did offer to have copies made but Zombie shook his head, saying ‘’just take them, I don’t need them anyway.’’

They say goodbye at the door, Thor jumps on his bike, starting the engine.

The day has been shit. Starting from the point where his landlady somehow decides his presence ‘’freaks out the other  neighbors,’’ ordering him to pack his stuff and move out within a week, going on to some kids crying at the sight of him, which results in their mothers throwing him dirty glares.

The bus drive isn’t quite walk in the park either. He always hears the whispers. No matter if he’s got his favorite Marley headphones on or not. No matter if he’s hiding the monster under baggy clothes, hoodie and dark sunglasses or not. There’s no hiding.

The constant feeling of the eyes. On his back. Watching him. ‘’We know,’’ they seem to say. ‘’We know who you are. We know what you did. You can’t run, Loki. You can’t hide. You won’t get away.’’

He’s one fuckin step away from the door when it’s finally too fuckin much and his vision grows dark. Gods, why are his knees so shaky? Loki leans on the back wall of the studio, trying to calm himself down. You’re safe. You’re safe. No one will find you.

It works, somewhat; breathing becomes easier after a while and he finally manages to lit that fuckin cigarette and sucks in the smoke filling his lungs with nicotine.

Inhale, exhale. Control yourself, Loki, You can do it. You have to do it.

The studio is empty. It’s too early for anyone else to be here; he always tries to come in as early as possible, in futile hopes of avoiding people, leaving house at times when everyone else is just snoozing their alarm clocks yet and coming back when others are watching some crappy late night TV or having fun in clubs and bars, or whatever it is that normal people do. Like he has any idea.

He makes himself a cup of coffee, drinking it slowly in the back alley, sitting on the ground, staring down at his palms: black, white, black, white. The irony. He would prefer to just cover up both hands. This just serves a reminder.

Loki sighs, heading back inside.

Not like he’s had a choice.

Thor… Well Thor doesn’t make things any easier. Oh, how Loki has hated him on sight; he is  so.. Perfect. Why would he want to ruin that flawless, sun-kissed skin? Just the sight of him makes Loki shiver all over, makes him long to run his fingers up and down those smooth arms, see if they’re just as warm as they look, if they are just as strong…

Okay, stop those thoughts right there, he tells himself. He’s a client. Yes, granted a bit weird one who, probably has some mystery crush on you, but that doesn’t yet mean you can risk it.

Loki sighs, stealing a tiny glance of Thor before hurriedly looking back down, replaying the image in his mind over and over: Thor, bent down over his sketches, smile on his lips, brows knit together, biting his lips unknowingly,  trying to figure out, trying to choose, probably worrying that Loki’s getting fed up with him too; it’s written all over his face.

Well, that couldn't be further from the truth; If anything, Loki’s worried that he’ll choose too soon. Or will deny all the versions, altogether.

And then his useless mouth runs away with him and…

‘’Why did you decide to get tattooed?’’

Thor seems to ponder over the question a bit.

‘’I dunno,’’ he says, shrugging, couple of seconds later.

Loki looks up for a second, allowing himself to study the man a bit more. He doesn't seem to be hiding anything.

‘’Why?’’ Thor asks back.

‘’Why what?’’

‘’Why do you want to know?’’ He clarifies.

Loki shrugs. Well, he can’t honestly tell him what he’s thinking, now, can he? For one, ‘’Because I think you’re making a huge fuckin mistake”’ will make him sound weird. And get him in trouble too, if the Boss overhears.

‘Why did you?’’ Thor asks back.

Loki freezes. In truth, he’s had this coming and should have seen it from a mile away. That’s what polite people do, isn’t it? As in, return the questions? Well, fuck politeness then. Good fuckin job, moron, he thinks, You’ve made your bed. Now lay in it.

‘’I…’’ he stammers, after couple of deep breaths (Why the fuck won’t his body just relax and let him breathe? ) clutching the sketchbook to his chest, ‘’I… Just like it.’’

Well, that’s a fuckin lie and they both know it.

‘’They’re beautiful. Suits you.’’ Thor says.

Loki stares. Could that be true? Could he actually mean it? Don’t kid yourself, Loki. Of course not. Who would find that monstrosity beautiful? He’s been looking at it for years and years and still can’t quite get used to it.  

‘’Thank you.’’ he says at last.

God, it sounds so fake .

Thor nods.

‘’You’re welcome.’’

Thor leaves soon enough. Truth be told, Loki can’t fuckin wait to get rid of him this time; his presence is too much; its like being bit too close to the sun: nice and heart-warming in small doses but too much of it will burn and peel your skin away.

Loki looks at the clock. It’s 2 pm. He could go get some coffee already, couldn’t he? Does he have any more clients today? Hell if he remembers. He’ll have to check before leaving.

‘’Hey,’’ the girl at the front desk smiles at him. Loki nods. He doesn’t even remember her name, something starting with M? Everything’s just hazy these days.

‘’Any more appointments today?’ He asks without any preamble. Small talk is not his forte, never has been. He’s the asshole and the weirdo around here anyways. The black sheep. Well, if the new girl isn’t already aware of the fact, she might as well get started on figuring it out.

‘’Just one,’’ she says, looking him up and down. well mostly up - as people usually do; trying to figure out what his face tats are supposed to be. Acting oh so fuckin subtle. Like he doesn’t have a pair of functioning eyes. If you wanna fuckin ask, just ask, Thinks Loki, annoyed beyond measure. Spare me the hypocrisy.

‘’4 pm.’’

‘’Thank you, ‘’ he says, getting out of the uniform-robe and hanging it up. ‘’I’ll be here by then… ‘’

‘’Alice,’’ she supplies.

‘’Alice,’’ Loki nods.

The 4 PM client is a pair of chattering ladies in their thirties. Or, the blonde one is, the other is there for emotional support or some shit, supposedly.

They’re doing the side - it’s the first session. The tattoo, while it is not entirely of Loki’s design, he made lots of changes to initial sketch she brought and it looks halfway decent now: it starts just under the armpit, extending under her left breast, coming down to the navel and curling into the belly button. It’s flowers and branches, which first she wanted in all the outrageous colors, but, thankfully could be convinced to take it down a notch and settle with black and red.

They start out slow: side is painful area to work on and if the client can’t fuckin settle and be still, it’s twice as challenging as it should be.

‘’Are you alright Miss?’’ Loki asks about twenty minutes in, fed up with all the twitching.

She nods, gulping.

‘’Are you sure you don’t need a break?’’ he says, trying his damnedest to get the message of ‘’Stop with the fuckin twerking or this ain’t gonna work’’ through. ‘’A snack? Water? Bathroom break?’’

‘’No, it’s fine,’’ she says, trying to convey the resilience she doesn’t have. ‘’Go on honey.’’

Loki sighs inwardly. Another time, maybe, he’d fuckin tell this bitch off, but they spent a lot of time working on the design and the payment should be around thousand bucks at least. Of course, around half of that will go to the parlor, but it’s still a lot of money which he can’t afford to waste.

‘’Miss,’’ he says again after another fifteen minutes, when her jumpy little movements become far too much. ‘’If you can’t hold still, I won’t be able to get my lines straight.’’

She blushes scarlet.

‘’Sorry.’’

Loki nods.

The torture of trying his best with the uncooperative client goes on for two and a half hours.

‘’Well, that’s a good place to stop for today,’’ He says, putting the tools away, ‘’Would you like a look before I cover this up?’’

She shakes her head. Loki frowns: she’s kinda too pale even for this stark white light.

‘’Alright,’’ he says, covering up the tattoo, standing up, stretching and turning to leave to allow her to dress: she’s naked except for her underwear and her breasts covered by a thin white towel. ‘’Call me if you…’’

And then he hears the thud; turning sharply, Loki gasps: The girl is lying face down on the floor.

Ok, what the actual fuck. Loki rushes to her side, throwing the towel around her shoulders, picking her up; her nose is bloody. Fuck.

‘’Alice!’’ he shouts, ‘’get me some water!’’

Alice runs in, with the girl’s friend in tow.

‘’Oh my God!’’ the friend exclaims, ‘’What happened?’'

‘’She fainted.’’ Loki says, trying to sound neutral. ‘’Probably overexerted herself. It happens sometimes. Don’t worry.’’

She nods, crouching down next to him, pulling hair from her friend’s face.

‘’Mmm…’’

Loki looks up.

‘’What?’’

‘’Why is she bleeding?’’ the girl asks, kinda panicky.

‘’The nosebleeds are sometimes…’’

‘’No, no!’’ She interrupts, pointing at her legs.

Loki curses colorfully, paling: The girl’s thighs are covered in blood too.

‘’Could this be because of the abortion?’’

Loki stares at her, wide eyed.

‘’She got an abortion?’’

A nod.

‘’TODAY ?’’

Well, if the girl’s paleness is anything to go by, neither of these idiots have thought this through.

‘’Alice!’ Loki screams, ‘’Call the fuckin ambulance!’’

Loki manages to sneak away when the ambulance arrives. Courtesy of Gast: no matter how Loki hates having to call him for help, there is no other way. Either that, or get questioned by the police. Gotta chose the lesser of two evils.

The girls leave with the medical crew. Loki sits in Gast’s office through all the shit, trying hard to control the tremors in his fingers. He is so not looking forward to confrontation that is sure to come. Or, Gods forbid, if she sues them.

The door opens and is boss steps into the room. Gast is a tall man, in his late fifties, gray hair, dorky glasses, friendly smile. There used to be times when Loki was fooled by this man’s appearance, having no idea who he was dealing with. Those days are long since gone.

‘’Hey, pet,’’ the man says, fondly.

Loki nods.

‘’Hey, hey!’’ he scolds, coming over to take Loki’s face into his hands. ‘’Don't worry, sugar-plum. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, don’t you?’’

Well, in truth there’s one hell of a difference between ‘’not letting anything happen’’ and ‘’not doing anything’’ to him. Of the later, Loki is not so sure.

‘’Of course. I know.’’ he says anyway. ‘’Thank you, En.’’

The man smiles, petting his hair.

‘’Yes, yes, exactly. So much better, pet,’’ he says, pulling Loki’s chin up, ‘’Hey, why is your hair down? You know that upsets me! It doesn’t suit you and it ruins my masterpiece!’’

‘’Sorry,’’ mutters Loki, hurriedly looking for a hair tie he must’ve had somewhere in his pocket and gasps in pain when the man pulls on his hair roughly.

‘’Don’t you forget why I tolerate this liking of long hair, Loki.’’ he hisses into young man’s ear. ‘’Don’t make me shave it over. Don’t disappoint me.’’

‘’En… ‘’ Loki whimpers, feeling long-nailed fingers dig into his scalp. ‘’You’re hurting me!’’

‘’Pain is an excellent teacher, pet.’’

‘’Please...’’

The man sighs and lets go of him. Loki puts his hair up in a hurry, casting wary looks at his master sitting down in the leather chair at the other side of the table.

‘’They left.’’ The older man notifies Loki after a while, letting him stew in his misery first. ‘’The police and all. It cost me but.. Done. No one has to know.’’

‘’Are you grateful, pet?’’ The man asks, voice silky.

‘’Yes. I am. Thank you, En.’’ He says, already knowing what’s coming next.

Gast raises his eyebrows and motions him closer.

‘’Well, then..’’ he purrs. ‘’Show me?’’

Loki swallows a lump in his throat. He knows Gast does nothing for free.

Well… A shit day indeed.