Chapter 21

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Sam's POV

I remember that conversation well...it was a fun one.

Y/N had dragged me to some frat party one night. I wasn't big on parties, but she was trying to make the most out of her glory days, who was I to stop her?

Long story short, I wound up dragging her drunk ass back to the apartment.

I found it hilarious when she was intoxicated. She's the kind of drunk that's just overly bubbly and happy...wants to dance and screams "I LOVE THIS SONG!" to every song that comes on, even if she doesn't know a single word to it. Everything would be funny to her, and when she was drunk enough she had no volume control over her laughter...but it was so intoxicating that everyone else joined in.

That party in particular, she was dancing with a group of girls, while I stood against the wall sipping on my drink, watching her intently. She didn't remember the girls' names the next morning, but for that night, they were her best friends.

I loved watching her let loose...not a care in the world, dancing like nobody's watching. I'd give anything just to witness that now.

I guess those girls had a couple matching tattoos with each other...and that's what planted the idea in Y/N's head. She wanted matching tattoos with me...at least drunk her did.

As I walked her back to the apartment, trying to keep her stable enough to not faceplant on the sidewalk...she spent the entire time slurring her words as she came up with different ideas for them.

"So likeee...we both love H.P. Lovecraft....we could get like...cute little Cthulhu squids or something! OR! We could get the Deathly Hallows symbol! OR! NO! We could get something sweet, like a little moon and a little star....OHMYGODDD SAM CAN WE PLEEEASE!?" she'd babbled.

I was just laughing the entire time. She was so animated and excited about it...I'd told her that I'd honestly consider it. She'd forgotten about that whole conversation by the time she'd woken up hungover the next morning...but I never forgot.

I'd planned to take her to get a small matching tattoo with me for her birthday that year.

But....we never made it to her birthday.

Fast-forward seven years and about a century's worth of trauma and bullshit...and here we are.

Me standing in the waiting area and watching her laying on a table while an artist tattoos an anti-possession sigil on her chest...right where mine is.

It's not the cute, sweet one she wanted...but in a way, now we have matching ones.

She was willing to get it done...once I explained my reasoning behind wanting her to...but she looked at me like I had three heads when I'd asked if she recalled the conversation. Clearly, she didn't.

But despite that, she seemed saddened. Like she wanted her first tattoo to have special, significant meaning. Something personal and romantic and sweet.

The meaning behind this tattoo...was dark. It acts as a lock that prevents a demon from possessing her body. And I couldn't shake the feeling that to her...it was symbolic of how royally fucked of a situation we're in.

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