Under my skin

The first time Elio saw Oliver shirtless he couldn't help but admire the intricate black patterns that wound along his chest, shoulder and back. It was probably the most artistic tattoo he had ever seen. Actually, being raised in a more or less secluded and protected environment, he had not seen many people with tattoos anyway. Judging by the remarks he had heard his father's colleagues make, this kind of body art seemed to be rather looked down on in the academic world. But here was Oliver, PhD student with a remarkable career ahead of him – if Samuel's predictions were to be trusted – and his upper body was half-way covered in black artwork.

"It's fine, you can ask. People usually do when they see my tattoos."

Elio blushed at being more or less called out for staring too bluntly. "Uhm, I guess I was just confused because I always thought that tattoos could be a problem when it comes to finding a job. Especially among academics."

"Which is exactly why mine are in places I can easily cover up. It's not that I will ever give a lecture shirtless," Oliver smirked.

Elio nodded und pursed his lips. "Doesn't that hurt, though? And, I mean, they are forever, so that's quite a commitment."

Oliver laughed at the almost naïve questions, but then reminded himself of Elio's sheltered upbringing. It was only natural that the boy had those thoughts.

"It depends on the body part as well as your physical condition on the day of the tattoo as well as on the artist as well as on how long the session lasts, so how big the tattoo is going to be. This one was done throughout several sessions which lasted about five hours each. Even if you are fine at the beginning of a session, you will probably not be at the end of one, trust me. But everybody is different. I am likely to go into some meditative state in which the pain becomes a transcendental experience, but again that is different for everyone."

"When did you decide that you wanted to get a tattoo? And how did you decide about what you wanted to get?"

Oliver felt his heart beating faster at the sweet sight in front of him: Elio sat cross legged in the gras next to the rim of the pool on which Oliver was seated, feet dabbling in the cooling water. The expression on his face was full of unguarded intrigue, completely open and unaware of the fact that other people might have mocked him for his childlike questions. Elio either didn't seem to care or, which was more likely and even more cute – he just wasn't aware of the affect he had on others. Or maybe only on Oliver.

"My fascination with tattoos and tattoo ceremonies began quite early in my life. I had watched a documentary on traditional artists across the world, which let to further research. Additionally, I have always liked drawing, so I tried to copy their styles and eventually develop my own. Which probably also answers your other question: I designed them myself, and then collaborated with an artist I had admired for her style for a long time to get the patterns right. She also tattooed them on me."

"You draw?" Elio's eyebrows rose high up, and he looked even more endearing to the older man.

"Sometimes, yes." His answer was intentionally vague, he did not want to tell Elio about what else he did with his drawings, that he regularly sneaked into town to the local tattoo parlour to make some extra money on the side as a guest artist. It wasn't exactly a secret, his side-job had for a long time enabled him to pay for his rent and college fees at home. A friend had gifted him his first tattoo kit, he had practiced on fruit in the beginning, then animal skin from the local butcher, then anyone who was willing to let him literally get under their skin. Back home, he had regular customers and earned enough additional money to live well. It was also a nice pastime to balance his academic work. Still, something held Oliver back, as if he feared any judgement from the younger man, and that made him uncharacteristically nervous.