Sorry for updating so late, I totally forgot about it...
-Katexx
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Chapter 35
"No."
"Fuck yeah."
I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head as Harry glances at me with pleading eyes. "No way. If you do that, I'm never talking to you again."
He gives me a long, dramatic eye roll and stomps his foot. "Yes, you're gonna talk to me again, and it'll be nice."
"Jesus, Harry!" My voice comes out a little bit louder than I first meant to, so I sigh and close my eyes in exasperation. "Please don't do that. You'll regret it, Haz."
While I was at my morning class, Harry had some things to take care of but insisted on picking me up afterwards to take me somewhere with him. A normal date would be going to the restaurant, or even the movie theater, but for Harry it's all about going to the tattoo parlor and getting the ugliest tattoo I've ever seen in my entire life.
We were sat in the waiting room for over an hour because Harry didn't have an appointment, he didn't even know what he wanted to get. With his thumb he gently circled the back of my hand in a comforting way while I tried to convince him to go back home and check some designs online, just to give him an idea. Of course, being as stubborn as he is, he said it was fine and that the guy had done the massive butterfly on his stomach, so he trusted him. How he thought that was supposed to be reassuring to me, I have no clue.
But then the tattoo artist came over to us and brought some designs in a book, and the one that caught Harry's eye definitely wasn't the one I was expecting.
"I'm not gonna regret it," he argues, a small smile spreading across his lips while the tattoo artist squirts black ink in a small, white cup. "It represents love."
I snort. "Sure. A large human heart represents love. Harry, you're getting a body part tattooed on your body! I don't think you're actually thinking this out properly."
When his eyes fell on the human heart drawn perfectly on a white piece of paper, Harry instantly fell in love with it. There were many designs surrounding it and when I notice his eyes lighting up, I tried to guess which design it was. There was a small butterfly, vampire bites, a snake on a knife, and then there was the massive human heart. I didn't even consider the possibility of that drawing being the one Harry wanted, it just seemed impossible to think that someone would get a human heart tattooed.
Until now.
"Please, babes, will you approve it?" Harry gives me his best puppy eyes and pouty lip, holding my right hand into both of is for additional drama. "I really want it but if you're going to hate me for the rest of my life..."
And why on Earth I say yes, I have no idea. As soon as the artist brings his gun to life and dips the needle into Harry's skin where the heart is going to be eternally engraved, my stomach churns in the worst way possible. Harry doesn't even wince, he lies peacefully on the table with one arm stretched towards the artist and the other one holding my hands, and I'm the one stressing out for him.
Not to get his shirt stained with ink, Harry decided to take it off. It gives me the chance to admire the other tattoos over his body, none of them nearly as creepy as the soon-to-be heart, except maybe for the skeleton with a hat on the back of his left arm. Then again, the skeleton is an artistic piece, the heart is... a human heart.
But my heart sinks guiltily as I watch Harry staring at the drawing on his arm with wide, glinting eyes as it's being done. His fingers keep tracing patterns on my hands and once in a while, he turns to me with this toothy smile that awakens butterflies in my tummy, so I don't dare to tell him how much I think he's silly to get this tattoo. Surely he knows that it doesn't please me, but I don't have the heart-no pun intended-to admit it when he just looks so happy.
Which is why I take a big decision. "Can you do me after him?"
Harry's head snaps in my direction, almost taking his entire body with it. "Don't even think about it," he firmly commands, so tensed that the tattoo artist has to stop for a few moments.
"I want a small heart on my wrist, just a little bit smaller than a penny," I tell the guy anyway, ignoring Harry's deadly glares. "And I mean like, a heart-shaped heart, not a human heart."
My first tattoo, the quote on my ribs, I'd gotten for personal reasons. I'd thought about it a long time before getting it until it was practically eating me alive. This one hasn't been thought through at all and deep down I know it might mostly be to piss off Harry and provoke him a little, but a small heart on my wrist would really be cute and could represent many things that a human heart doesn't.
"She's kidding," Harry tells the artist with a smug expression, lips tight and nose scrunched up. "Don't listen to her, she likes to think she's funny."
"I am funny," I argue, sticking my tongue out at him like a child. "If you're getting a tattoo, then so am I. I've already gotten one so it's no big deal."
"Yes but you didn't think this one through, Elena. Don't start."
And instantly I let go of his hand and cross my arms over my chest. "You haven't though this one through either, if I may refresh your memory."
With the guy now slightly aside to leave us some space, Harry lifts himself on his elbows and twists his upper body towards me. "Elena, don't make a scene, alright?" he starts with a sigh, gently squeezing the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I'm getting this done, we'll go home and in a few months if you still want that tattoo, then I'll take you."
"Oh, of course," I snap at him. "You're allowed to do what the hell you want with your body and I can't even get a small heart on my wrist. I'll just get it while you're gone."
His eyes darken, anger building up slowly inside of him, but I refuse to back out. He needs to lose this controlling side of him because it'll eat him alive. Normally I would've given up already, but maybe this will be a good lesson. "Don't even think about it, Elena. You're not getting another tattoo and that's final. Tom, can you keep going?"
"Sure, mate," the tattoo artist, now named Tom, says uncertainly before retrieving the tattoo gun he'd temporarily set on the table beside the ink. Harry returns to his former position, lying down on his back with one arm spread across the guy's legs, but this time he tucks his right hand in his jean pocket. I huff in distaste and ignore his obvious attempt at being mad at me.
While the tattoo gets done, I take out my phone and read some messages that I either have read before and didn't take the time to reply, or new ones from my parents and from websites I've signed up to.
Mom and dad wouldn't mind if I got a new tattoo. I was with Amanda when I got my first one and though it had been planned for a while, mom didn't really mind as long as I wasn't getting half of my body entirely tattooed. Dad has a hidden one on his shoulder which you can only see if he was shirtless or wearing a wife beater; it's a cross with a date in it, which represents the death of his childhood best friend who died in their second year of college of a car accident. Both mom and dad agree that if a tattoo represents something important, then it's okay.
A small heart could represent many things. It could be for love, friendship, happiness; literally anything. Which is why I don't see the problem in getting a small one on my wrist, even though Harry seems to find it completely ridiculous.
When the tattoo artist has finished Harry's version of a heart, I watch him admire the finished piece in the mirror with a grin on his face. On its own, the tattoo is very well done. It's got shading and beautiful details, but a human heart? Really?
"Thanks, mate, I really like it," Harry finally says as he slips his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. "How much do I owe you?"
Both guys completely ignore me as they travel to the front of the store while discussing prices. I'd been keeping Harry's coat with me while he was getting the heart done, so I quickly put mine back on and carry his to the front where Harry is sliding his credit card to Tom. His eyes glance at me for a second with a nonchalant, I-don't-really-care look on his face, and he reaches over to take his coat from my arms, but doesn't say a word.
"Am I gonna see you before you leave?" Tom asks Harry after giving him a small receipt with a paper of instructions, which I assume is completely useless. Harry must've learned this paper by heart a long time ago.
"You never know," Harry replies with a smirk, one of which I'd like to smack off his face.
Tom gets up from his chair and shakes hands with Harry, but then he turns towards me and offers his hand as well for me to shake. "It was nice to meet you, Elena. Give me a call after he's gone, yeah? I'll take a look at that little heart you want."
"Tom," Harry growls, raising an eyebrow and pressing his lips tight together. "She has one and it's enough. If she calls you, you don't answer."
The thing is, being treated like a kid in the privacy of a home can be tolerated. I've grown used to Harry telling me what to do and well, what not to do, and at home I've just decided to listen to him not to get him angry. Most of the times I know he does it because he cares and not because he wants control. In public, however, it's completely unacceptable and embarrassing. So when Harry tells Tom to ignore me as if I was having a teenager crisis, I roll my eyes and storm out of the shop.
I don't waste any time walking away as far as possible. This particular area of the city isn't where I usually hang out, but it isn't entirely unknown either. I've been here with the car before looking for a vintage shop nearby that I'd seen online, and even though I vaguely remember getting lost in the smaller streets, as soon as I spot an underground station a little bit further down the road, I jump on the occasion and ignore Harry's calls behind me as he shouts my name over and over again. I will not reduce myself to an object that can't even make decisions just to please the alpha male in him.
Sitting alone among hundreds of other people in the underground allows me to think. For a moment I just think of how lucky I was to have my underground pass in the pocket of my coat, but then I search deeper than that in the back of my head. Years ago I thought I'd barely ever get out of Boston, let alone the USA. I've traveled different places and lived in California for a few months, and today I find myself in the middle of London and I'm able to find my way to a place I now call home because I live here and I love it. If I could go back in time and tell my younger self this, she probably would not believe a single word of it and she'd snort and roll her eyes, thinking I'm some sort of weird medium looking for easy money. I used to snort and roll my eyes a lot as a teen. Now I barely even look like the same person I was back then, both physically and psychologically, and my younger version definitely wouldn't recognize me.
The underground ride doesn't last nearly as long as I wish. As soon as I get out at my respective stop, I take my time to walk up to the bus stop that'll take me back to the house. Harry hasn't told me if he had plans for us after that, but being treated like a five-year-old because he won't let me make a decision for myself doesn't really want to make me do anything with him. Now I feel like I'm acting like a five-year-old for running away, but what the hell, at least he'll have a reason to treat me like a child.
I consider not taking the bus when I see it turning the corner of the street. The mall is two underground stations away and my pass has unlimited access for the month. Harry hasn't even bothered texting me, so why would I go back to the house and make it easier for him to scream at me once again?
So I spin on my heels just as the bus starts making its stop in front of me.
For three hours, I walk around the mall in the search of a gift I could get Harry before he leaves for the US. I go from store to store, not really knowing what to get because, let's be honest, harry has everything. Not only do I have no clue what to get him, but I also know that as soon as I get home and he expels his anger on me, I won't even want to give him his present anymore.
I settle for a phone case that has both the Union Jack and the US flag on it. This way he won't forget about me wherever he is. So I find myself three hours later getting off the bus in front of the familiar white house.
The SUV is nowhere near the house when I walk through the gates. My car is at the same place I parked it yesterday after school, since Harry insisted on driving me to and from school this morning, which gave him enough time to go shower and change at Nick Grimshaw's. Then I realize that I don't know why I expected him to be home since he doesn't even consider it his home anymore. Why would he come back here if he doesn't have anything in the house?
My heart clenches at the thought because, well, he has me, but it probably isn't enough. But that's okay, at least for now.
The house couldn't be lonelier when I walk in and my footsteps practically echo through the entire room. I remove my shoes and place them aside as I usually do, my coat sliding from my shoulders and hanging on one of the free hooks by the door, and I take a few steps in the sad house.
Only now do I notice the difference since Harry left. The house isn't a home without Harry's ugly boots in the doorway closet, or without his ten different coats that he doesn't even wear hanging in a pile and almost falling every time someone shuts the door a little too loud. The house isn't a home without the person you love.
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Chapter End Notes :
Heyyy!!
Much shorter, yet very cheesy chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. x
What do you think will happen next?
Last but not least, is Elena gonna get her tattoo?:)
And what do you think about the Rumor of Harry acting in the WWII movie? Do you think it's just another rumor or for real this time?
PLEASE DON'T BE A SILENT READER! I love love loveeeee to read you!
Don't forget to comment and vote!!Thanks!:D
-Katexx