Ocean Eyes

c h a p t e r t w e l v e

How someone who once was there for you, gone, in a blink of an eye.

How mom died.

She was now only alive in the memories of the ones who knew her, nowhere else.

I started getting lost in my thoughts until I remembered something.

The tattoo.

I gasped.

How could I forget something as huge as that ?!

My head turned quickly towards Storm and was met with his slightly confused face.

I sat up from the chair, the piece of furniture making a squeaking noise with the contact of the bare floor.

I ran to my bathroom, just to check once again if the tattoo was there.

I flipped the lights on and found my form in the mirror.

My left hand gripped the collar of my shirt and slightly pulled it down to the top of my chest area.

It was still there.

The tattoo of the intricate and beautiful flower design was still there.

My eyes widened.

I heard Storm's steps, getting louder as they approached the bathroom I was in.

He appeared in the mirror and his eyes flashed to what I was doing and met my stare through the mirror.

I turned around and walked up to him.

I was at the same level as his shoulders and I craned my head slightly backward.

My eyes spoke a silent request and Storm nodded.

My trembling hand reached for the collar of his plain black t-shirt.

In any other case, I already know I would have had red cheeks because of the close proximity to him and to have a peak of his chest.

My mind didn't even register that at the moment.

I gulped; not ready for the sight I was about to see.

I pulled the shirt down.

I was met with the same tattoo, in the same spot.

My breath stilled in my chest as my mind only registered the same thing over and over.

We both have it.

" H-how? Why?" I croaked out.

His face was finally showing some type of emotion.

Panic.

And that is when worry seeped in.

Storm was one of the people who knew how to keep his emotions at bay, and sometimes it seemed as if he didn't have any.

And when he showed them, it was usually either amazing or downright horrible.

I think it was safe to assume that in my situation, it was probably the latter.

I turned around and pointed a finger at my tattoo and then at his.

"Why do we both have it?" I asked again, my voice rising in nervousness.

He looked defeated and lost, and that is when I started stressing even more.

" I'm sorry," he started, "I can't tell you. Not yet."

"What do you mean 'not yet'? I woke up with this tattoo and you have the same one. Why is it here?" I cried out and gestured to both flowers we had on our skin.