Resurrect The Sun (A BVB Wretched and Divine fanfiction)

Chapter 23

The room was empty; Austin was nowhere to be seen, which was unusual. Ben crossed over to the shelving on the far wall and retrieved a large, unmarked book, a black marker pen, a cloth bag and some weird machine I couldn't describe if you'd paid me.

“What is that?”

He set it down on one of the mattresses and sat down next to it. “It's a tattoo needle. I was thinking, seeing as you're a virgin--”

“Um, what?” I followed his actions and seated myself on the opposite mattress.

“An ink virgin,” he clarified, smirking. “It might be cool for you to get a tattoo done. Nearly all of us have them, and they're all done by me, the resident artist.” He pulled a face. “If you want to, that is. It's just that, well, tomorrow . . .”

I looked at the machine. The needle looked big. And sharp. “I don’t know – doesn’t it hurt?” Realizing I sounded stupid, I tried elaborating, “I mean, what with tomorrow, I don’t want to injure myself before we’ve even started.”

Ben shrugged, “That’s true. I didn’t think of that.” He laughed but it sounded kind of sad, “I don’t know, I just . . .”

“Tell you what,” I interjected, “If you draw a design for me and if we make it back alive, I’ll be your personal canvas. Think of it as insurance. Deal?”

He looked up through his sandy bangs and smiled a little. “Deal.”

To break the silence that ensued, I joked, “Well, get to it then. I’m expecting a masterpiece.”

“Hey, you can’t rush genius.” He threw back, but balanced his open notebook on his knees. Pen held aloft, he looked back up at me with a now thoughtful expression. “So, what sort of thing do you want? Make it good, it’s gonna be on you for the rest of your life.”

“Something . . . something inspirational. Something that gives me hope whenever I look at it.”

“Okay, care to be a little more specific? Like, what sort of thing do you want to represent that; an image, words, both? Big and bold or delicate? Colour or black and white? Where are you gonna have it?”

“I was thinking some words with an image, something meaningful. Like, I don’t know, some words that reflect what I want to be or something.” The privacy of my inner thoughts was coming out here and I was more than a little embarrassed by it. “I don’t know. Maybe it could be on my arm or shoulder, somewhere visible. And definitely colour. I’m sick of black.”

He was making notes on the paper in front of him, but laughed at this. “I know how you feel. Sometimes I wish we wore red or something. Not as good a camouflage, but a hell of a lot more motivating.”

“Right,” I nodded, grinning. “So, got any ideas?”

“A few. These words you were talking about . . . you want anything in particular? Like, you said they should represent how you want to be. How do you want to be?”

I swallowed. “I want to be strong and brave, and do the right thing always. I want to know good from bad and I want the ability to choose either. I want to be free from F.E.A.R. and to be utterly my own person. I want to have good relationships with those around me and love and be loved in equal measure.” I realized suddenly how much I’d said; these were things I’d never voiced aloud before. Heat rose in my cheeks. “I mean, I don’t know. I thought—”

“No, no, it’s cool,” Ben reassured me, “I can work with this. It’s really good. Really.” He smiled again. 

“Right.” I was more than a little relived that he didn’t mock me. If it had been his brother, Danny wouldn’t have hesitated to make some cutting remark. But it was Ben and his hair fell into his eyes as he began to draw, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration. I couldn’t see what he was drawing but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.