Ink Me {Min Yoongi Fan Fiction}

𝟷 • 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗

     The thrill of getting a tattoo has always intrigued me. How you can go through something as painful as getting ink stabbed into your skin, but you get something beautiful out of it. Not only have the tattoos intrigued me, the people who have taken it upon themselves to go through the process doesn't cease to fascinate me. There are countless horror stories of tattoos going wrong, the pain of the process, and the image that comes along with it. There's a risk of getting looked at funny; like you're some freak that wants to contaminate your skin for the rest of your life.

Yet, they still go through with it.

There are some people who don't even hesitate to "go under the needle". Maybe it's due to a plethora of confidence or their desire to be different from others, but they have guts, nonetheless. Something that I apparently lack.

I've done a lot of things that I'm not proud of, but I have to say that this is one of the most disappointing moments of my life. I watch people walk in and out of the building without a care in the world. Their faces appear to show nothing other than happiness and confidence, something that I lack. It's starting to get cold in here without the heat running, but the shivering of my body started before I even parked the car.

I'm not scared of the pain, I'm already past that phase. Even so, I can't help the nauseating nervousness taking over the instability of my confidence. Sitting in my car for the past hour and a half probably isn't helping though, so I don't necessarily have anyone to blame except for myself.

"Shit," I whisper.

I look down at my hands and notice the light shade of blue they've started to turn. Sighing, I begin to debate with myself about whether or not I can actually get myself inside before the parlor closes. Slamming my hands against the sturdy leather of the steering wheel, I feel a rush of fabricated confidence and throw the car door open. I briskly step out into the winter weather and shut the car door after grabbing my coat and my wallet.

The clicking of my boots fills the area around me. It's a foreign sound since I never wear boots; I only wore them today to make add to the persona I took on today. The distance from me to the entrance seems shorter than a thought, making me worried about whether or not I can actually convince myself to do this or not.

     Approaching the door, I rest my hand on the handle and feel the cool metal against my palm. At this point, it's almost another reason for me to skip out on getting the tattoo. Thoughts begin to run through my mind that I know all too well: maybe it'll be too much pain for me to handle, people will look at me more weirdly than they already do, they'll think I'm too weak to get a tattoo when I walk in there.

     "Are you going inside?" I hear a man ask from behind me. I turn around and I'm met with the chest of a black haired man. I nod my head lightly before turning around and following through with the action of opening the door. I swing the glass door open and am met with the warmth that my body has been craving. Unlike how I expected, nobody pays a lick of attention to me as I enter the building.

"Welcome," a woman at the desk mumbles to me and the man behind me. My eyes immediately dart to the wall of designs behind the woman, and my mouth drops open lightly. I take small steps towards her and she smiles lightly at me. "Can I help you?"

I don't respond to her, but I continue to look at all of the drawings in black ink on top of white paper. She taps her fingernails on the counter and pops her gum at me, waiting for me to answer.

"Do you have an appointment here or..?"

"No, I don't," I respond. You have to make an appointment? I finally look at her and she looks at me expectantly, her eyebrow raised and her mouth open as she continues to chew her gum.