SINCE DAY ONE ― luke hemmings ✓

39

just a lil filler

*・。*゜・。・o゜・。*゜・。・o*゜・。・o*

"Are you actually—actually sure about what you're going to do?"

"Now that I think about it..."

"Kyle!"

"Theo!"

The two of us are arguing outside somewhere in the city in front of a shop because apparently, my partner right here, think it's a good idea to spend the day getting a tattoo. In London. Of all the place in the world he could get it to, of all the times, and chances he'll have after tour. He wanted to do it—right now. Just because—"Did you see that girl?! The tattoo on her neck? It was so cool!"

"It's a commitment." I say, agreeing. "But what are you even gonna get?" The boy looked at me then, as if thinking that made me shake my head. This was just plainly unbelievable.

"What about you? Do you even have a tattoo?" I smirked at his question, the bright boy he was knowing instantly the answer to his question. "What?! Where?" My hands fumbled on the neckline of my shirt and lowered it a bit down, his eyes bulging at the sight until he caught the black tattoo lined over my lower left chest, the infamous... five tally mark.

"Luke dared me to get a tattoo of the tally mark when we played spin the bottle that one time and well, yeah, that's the endgame of being young and drunk. My brother was livid to see me have a tattoo that none of my family knew about. Except the boys." He laughs as I covered it all the way, smiling at myself from the memory of me drunkly masking the pain with laughing too much I was already crying in front of my asshole boyfriend. "But the tattoo means a lot to me so you have to be sure you're gonna put something that means a lot to you, too!"

"Well..."

I was not surprised at all when Kyle got something I fully expected from him—I mean, I was rooting for something different. But it's no surprise anymore as soon as the stencil was on his forearm, and as soon as the minimalist drawing of a camera was going to be inked on his arm forever. "Is it fine? Does it look weird? Will it hurt?" He asks, for the tenth time around while lying down on the chair, about to get tattooed by a woman with hot pink hair.

"No, it doesn't! And for the last time, Kyle. You're going to be fine." I was not a witness to my own pain when I was drunk on mine. I just remembered crying so much from laughing all while Luke held on my hand, also laughing at my drunk ass. "Just stay calm—and don't pass out or I'm gonna leave you marooned here in London." He rolled his eyes, flipping me off that I laugh. Filming all his demise as soon as the girl started. "Don't be a baby! It's a small piece!" I chuckled, my hand shaking from all the laughter I was keeping inside just so I could encourage him to go through it.

"I'm kind of regretting it now." He says, holding on to my other hand tight that I kept laughing. "I'm regretting it, Theo. What do I do?!"

"Suck it up!"

*・。*゜・。・o゜・。*゜・。・o*゜・。・o*

Three hours and a little touch ups later, we ventured more around the touristy parts of the city with the constant nagging of my partner who could not stop asking if his tattoo was ugly or not. "Kyle, it's really good, I swear. I kinda wanna get it myself but only when I'm not chickening the hell out of my ass all while trying—and visibly failing to flirt with the tattoo artist." He elbowed me which I instantly dodged away from, reminding him how he was turned down by a brit in the most british accent ever. 'Oh, I have a boyfriend, silly!'. That's gotta hurt.