Urban Ink [A Ziall Fic]

Two [Tattoos and Temptation]

“Zayn, grab the disinfectant wipe from the counter over there, will you?” Harry asks, his big green eyes not leaving the man’s arm in front of him. In his head he is planning out the tattoo that will soon be on the man’s skin, and he takes a deep breath. His boyfriend, Louis, is sitting on his right and slowly whispering in his ear. Normal people would find it distracting, but Harry is used to it now. He and his boyfriend have been a tattoo artist duo for years now, and after creating thousands of tattoos sitting next to each other, it’s all a little too easy for them.

            Zayn walks over and places the wipe in Harry’s hand, who then cleans the man’s skin and immediately begins to start the tattoo.

            “I just don’t get it,” Zayn breaths out as he sits in the chair next to Harry and Louis, watching the pair ink the tattoo on the man’s arm, “Niall is some innocent little bugger that doesn’t understand why I am the way I am. All I’m doing is having fun,”

            “Fun that makes a huge gaping hole in his wall,” Louis points out with a smirk as his hand snakes around Harry’s waist.

            “That,” Zayn says, “Was an accident. Wasn’t even my fault. That stupid girl was all over the place,”

            “Sounds like a personal problem, mate,” Harry adds.

            “It’s just so stupid. He suddenly just hates my guts,”

            The three boys continued talking in the small tattoo parlor, with the shining light hanging above them and signs everywhere that read, “Urban Ink”. Zayn wonders about how Niall would take a place like this. After all, he’s so innocent and pure, and his skin is untouched. And then Zayn stops thinking about it all together, because why is he thinking about that stupid twat anyway? They hate each other. So what does Zayn care if he likes tattoo parlors or not?

            Once Louis and Harry are done with the man’s tattoo, the parlor closed for break, leaving the three friends sitting in the large red leather chairs. Zayn has been best friends with Louis and Harry for years now, ever since he got his first tattoo here and Louis held his hand the whole time. It didn’t bother him that Louis and Harry were together. In fact, Zayn thought it was adorable. Who was he to judge their happiness?

            “Maybe you should move into the complex that me and Harry live in,” Louis suggests, “I mean, there are parties all the time and no one complains. It’s a young crowd,”

            “So is the complex I live in, Louis,” Zayn groans, “Everyone is fine with it, except for the little Horan prick. He acts like he is one hundred years old and needs to sleep at least ten hours. Not to mention, the only person who ever visits him is a responsible little idiot named Liam. They probably are dating. But I bet they never fuck,”

            “Zayn,” Harry scolds, “Stop it,”

            “I’m just saying,” Zayn rolls his eyes, grabbing a cigarette from his pocket, “The kid needs to live a little,”

           

~

            Thud.

            Thud.

            Thud.

            Niall groans and hops up from his bed, tucking his head into the hole—that was still there in his wall—and rolls his eyes, “Zayn!”
            “Oh, hey Horan,” Zayn is sitting on his bed, smacking his elbow against the other wall.