We hadn't done it. I stopped him before we'd even really started.
We sat across from each other at the breakfast table. My family had already gone to the beach and they had left us a note with greetings, fresh bread rolls and money for bus tickets.
I watched Harry pour some orange juice into the glass in front of him. We had talked noticeably little to each other that morning and I attributed that to what had happened the previous night.
"Are you mad at me, Harry? I didn't mean to hurt you; it was just that... that you were so different yesterday. So not exactly different, but you said so much nonsense, I thought we were going to cancel this moment up, for when we are both one hundred percent committed and..."
"I wasn't talking nonsense; this is totally serious to me. I want this, Louis. And if you don't come with me... fine, just leave it, but I'll get this tattoo. If that's what you mean." He interrupted me, looking up a little hurt from his bun, which he was just smearing with jam.
"As for the other thing, Lou... I don't know what got into me, I had no control. I agree with you, we should wait. My mistake."
I reached across the table for his hand to clasp it in mine.
"Anne will kill me for not taking care of you, babe. I mean, I like the thought of ink on that delicate skin of yours, but I'm convinced by the fact, your mom wouldn't."
"Guess I'm old enough to take care of myself."
"You turned sixteen last month."
He cut off the discussion with a death look and somehow, I could understand him, after all I didn't show him any other way. But the difference was that I knew very well that I wasn't going to grow old with it and probably wouldn't survive the point where I would start to regret my tattoos.
"I really, really want it." He whispered pleadingly.
I couldn't say no when I saw his puppy look in the eyes. He knew exactly what to do, to get on with me.
"Okay, Hazza, but the spot you picked is really not a good place for a first tattoo." He looked at me questioningly, apparently waiting for an explanation.
"You know, your tummy or chest has many nerve endings and when I tickled you yesterday, I tested how sensitive you are... By the way the closer the needle gets to the sternum, the more uncomfortable it becomes. You said, you want it in the middle. You can probably guess what all that means. "
Unimpressed, he crossed his arms on the table. "Still, I want it."
"Stubborn kiddo, you." I shook my head. Then he just had to make the experience.
"You told me it was all about the pain."
I gave him an indefinable look. I couldn't explain to him that it was my own freaky little form of self-harm.
"All right, then get ready, we'll go straight away. Oh, and Haz. -You shouldn't continue to eat, not that you vomit everything later."
The mention of 'vomit' made the lively curly hair frown briefly in concern, which made me smile smugly. I knew he wasn't going to back down now, but I could see from him that he was no longer entirely at ease with what was going to happen.
Half an hour later we were sitting next to each other on the bus. I saw Harry jiggle his leg up and down nervously.
I put my palm reassuringly over his narrow knee, not covered by his torn pants.
"You don't have to do that; we can just walk around town and have a relaxing day." I said softly and stroked my thumb over his skin.
What I had actually wanted to do, I had spontaneously postponed. In the end, it didn't really matter. -Maybe it was, but I assumed I still had enough time.
"No, I'll do this now."
I exhaled audibly and nodded. So, he was sure.
When the door to the tattoo studio was opened, a small bell rang out.
I headed for this building because I had gotten a sibling tattoo pricked with Lottie there the previous year and I remembered how kind and empathetic the artist had been to my sister since it was her first one. It was worth mentioning that Lottie's motif had been significantly smaller than what Harry wanted, and on the outer upper arm, which is a less sensitive area.
"Hey." I said to the blonde woman behind the counter.
She pulled her bulging and obviously not quite natural lips in a friendly smile.
"Do you speak English?" I asked, just to be careful and was a little relieved when she answered yes.
"How can I help you two cuties?" There was a thick accent in her voice, but it didn't change anything in her sounding very polite and friendly.
"The lovely curl head here would like to get a tattoo." I explained and pointed with one hand behind me, at Harry, who gave the impression that he would like to turn on his heel and run away.
The tattoo artist seemed to have noticed his restlessness and turned to him directly "Come a little closer, boy."
Harry did what he was told and now stood next to me.
"Do you already have an idea what it should be?" He nodded.
I poked him in the side and whispered a low, amused "You have to talk Haz, otherwise she can't do anything."
With fingers trembling with excitement, he unfolded the sheet on which I had drawn the butterfly and presented it to the blonde.
"That's beautiful, did you draw it?" She tried to loosen up the conversation.
"Sorry, he's really nervous, it's going to be his first tattoo. I've drawn it by the way." I explained the obvious to her.
She nodded approvingly and came walking behind the counter to shake Harry's hand.
"Well, my little one, it will take me half an hour to prepare the template. Have you thought about that really well?"
"Yes, I have. But don't we need a declaration of consent?" I shook my head and took the answer from the artist who had introduced herself as Peggy.
"There is no legal age limit for it here in Italy... can we pay in advance?" I asked, knowing full well that the session would be long and, in the end, Harry was probably happy to get home as soon as possible.
Peggy told me the price, which was significantly cheaper than it would for getting a tattoo like this in our homeland, and I paid for it against Harry's sake.
"Feel invited." I grinned as my boyfriend took a seat on the comfortable leather-covered chair.
Harry was shaking even more than before and seemed to be following the clock's second hand with his eyes.
I sat next to him and grabbed his hand to calm him down. His palm was wet with sweat. Sweat of fear.
"So young man, you will have to take off your shirt now. It's not that cold today, luckily." I heard the blonde announce at some point with her sugar-sweet voice before she was even in the room.
I winked encouragingly at Harry, who was fumbling helplessly at the bottom of the garment. Not being able to take it off alone because of his excessive demands. I quickly helped him, holding the shirt on my lap as I sat back in my chair.
In the meantime, Peggy had sat down on an office chair with castors and moved a mobile table next to Harry, on which was everything that she would need.
She laid one gloved hand on my boyfriend's thigh to get his full attention.
"So, my dear. You haven't taken any blood thinners in the last week? That means no Marcumar, Ibuprofen or Paracetamol? -Sorry, I have to ask that."
He shook his head in the negative.
"Very good. If you are not feeling well, just raise your hand. I will then stop... Would you like to have a numbing ointment? The effect will probably wear off after two hours."
"I would love to." Harry whispered and I knew full well that he would have loved to be anesthetized.
After the applied numbing cream had been given a few minutes to take effect, Peggy adjusted the template and shortly afterwards she began to work on the soft skin of the angel in front of her.
Harry had closed his eyes a little panicked shut and clawed at my wrist. I whispered little comforts to him and let my fingers dance over his arm.
For a long time, it went quite well, until Peggy got closer and closer to the middle of his stomach and my boyfriend gave agonized whimpers.
I shushed him softly. "I told you so babe."