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“I’ve been thinking about dyeing my hair again.”
Felix is sitting cross-legged on a stool in front of her full-length mirror, applying her makeup, and Chan is watching her. It doesn’t happen often, so it’s not quite routine, but there’s still a familiarity to it that grounds Chan. Makes her feel safe and comforted.
Or maybe that’s just the overall coziness of Felix’s apartment: the twinkly lights draped and strung across the ceiling, the warm wood tones mixed with pretty pastels, and of course, the soft blankets piled everywhere.
Like the one Chan is currently sprawled across, at the foot of Felix’s bed. There’s a loose thread at the edge of it, and Chan fiddles with it before remembering to respond. “You should do it.”
“I agree,” Felix says, and they both laugh at the way she says it— eyes wide and overly serious, like it was Chan’s idea in the first place. Like Chan’s ideas are automatically good and require immediate and enthusiastic concurrence. “But what color?”
She picks up a rosy tube of lip gloss. This is always the last step of her routine, and probably Chan’s favorite. She’s so methodical about it, and though Chan finds her heart-shaped mouth lovely and tempting enough as it is, there’s something so pleasing about watching it take on new color.
“I think pink would be good,” Chan says, tracking the way Felix sweeps the wand across her cupid’s bow. “It looked pretty hot on you.”
“Mmm, you think?” Felix says absently.
She’s bent over slightly to get close enough to see what she’s doing, and Chan tries to keep her gaze on Felix’s face, or on the counter, or anywhere else that isn’t the view straight down Felix’s shirt that’s reflected back at her. The ultimate distraction. She does slip a bit, though, just enough to notice that Felix… she’s not wearing a bra.
And of course, Chan immediately forces her gaze back up to Felix’s face, only to find Felix looking at her already. Dammit. She’s caught.
Chan swallows.
“Yeah.”
Felix smirks. She finishes the lip gloss, then stands to make her way over to the bed. There’s a certain glint in her eye that tells Chan she’s up to something. She has no idea what, but she sits up to meet it anyway. Felix maintains eye contact even as she plops down next to Chan, then leans over slowly, deliberately. Plants a kiss on her cheek, makes sure to really press in close. Chan can only sit still as it happens, her breath briefly stolen. She’s not new to this, to Felix in her space. Still, that doesn’t mean it’s any less exhilarating when it happens.
When Felix pulls back, she turns Chan’s face toward the mirror. This far back, some details are lost, but the lip print Felix left behind is still clear as day. She cradles Chan’s jaw in her hand then gently swipes her thumb over it, taking care not to smudge.
They make eye contact in the reflection, and Felix’s smirk returns: a feral, triumphant thing.
“I think pink looks pretty hot on you, too.”
And before Chan can respond or scream or let out whatever strangled noise is caught in her throat, Felix’s entire demeanor changes from sultry demon to bouncy kitten, the way she’s been every time they talk about what they have planned for today.
“Okay!” She gives three quick, tiny claps in succession. “I’m ready when you are!”
Despite herself, Chan smiles. Even when Felix drives her mad, she’s too precious for words. She slides off the bed and holds out a hand, which Felix grabs and uses to pull herself up, too. Chan squeezes, a brief pressure that she hopes communicates the intense fondness she feels for this girl.
“Let’s do this, then.”
Sometimes, Felix will ask Chan to hang out just to watch her drive.
Actually, there are lots of things Felix asks Chan to do just to watch her do them. Usually, she can hide behind her camera, claim it’s to practice some random technique, but there’s a whole gallery on her laptop dedicated just to Chan’s hands that would call her a liar.
She watches them now — solid and sure and covered with black ink like most of her body. One hand is wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, while the other drums against the driver’s side door in time with the music coming soft and rhythmic from the speakers. It’s a hip-hop beat, vaguely familiar, but Felix has long given up keeping track of Chan’s ever-changing playlists.
They’re stopped at a red light, and Felix focuses her gaze on Chan’s left hand. Specifically, the spot just above her wrist, pale and conspicuously blank compared to the surrounding areas. It’s only a few centimeters of space, but Felix stares hard at it anyway. Thinks about how it won’t be blank for long. Then, staring isn’t enough, so she lets herself lean forward and graze her fingers across that patch of skin. It’s warm and perfectly smooth, so different from the callouses on her palms from all the time she spends at the gym.
From the corner of her eye, Felix sees Chan glance down at her, knowing, and Felix falls back against the seat, trying hard not to blush.
“Can’t believe you’re actually letting me tattoo you.” She says it all light and casual, but her nerves are crackly and electric.
“It’s fine,” Chan tells her, looking back toward the road as the light turns green. “I said you could practice on me, didn’t I?”
It’s the whole reason they’re in the car, driving to Chan’s studio. A few weeks back, when they’d been eating lunch together, and Felix was playing her favorite game of Point At Tattoo and Ask For Story. Normally, she avoids it, knows some people really hate it. Even Felix herself finds it grating, sometimes, when people ask about her own tattoos. But Chan is open and generous, offering up the stories of her body on her own and answering patiently whenever Felix is the one to ask.
So that afternoon, Chan was telling her about the time she’d shown their friend Jeongin how to do a stick and poke, demonstrating first on herself and then letting the younger girl take over, and Felix had asked, sort of joking, “Would you ever let me tattoo you?”
And Chan, without a moment’s hesitation, had said, “Yeah, sure. You free tomorrow?”
They ended up waiting, mostly because Felix panicked and refused to go near Chan before practicing first. So, after some time and several mangled pieces of fruit, Chan had promoted her to apprentice and had set the date for Felix to mark up her skin.
Finally, they pull into the right parking lot, and Felix is practically buzzing as Chan stops the car and leads her inside the shop.
Just like every time she’s been here, Felix feels an immediate sense of comfort when she walks in. Chan calls it her home away from home, and the decor shows it: big windows, squishy leather couches in the waiting area, all the warm tones. Minho, one of the other artists, has covered the whole place with plants, taking advantage of the fact that her cats can’t eat them here.
But one of Felix’s favorite features is the exposed brick walls, littered with flash sheets and some of her own photography. She tried to protest, the first time Chan hung one of her prints. But Chan waved her off.
“If I just hang my art, I look pretentious. You’re doing me a favor here, really.”
Felix rolled her eyes, but it made her feel so proud and supported every time she saw her work hanging here. Like maybe she was part of this, too. This place that means so much to Chan has a piece of her in it, and that matters a lot to Felix.
It’s Sunday, so no one else is here. Chan thought it’d be best to have zero distractions, and Felix is grateful for that foresight.
“Do you need help setting up?” she asks, as Chan heads over to her station.
“Nah,” Chan calls out, “you just sit there and look pretty ‘til I call you over!”
And it’s the way she calls Felix pretty, so casual, that makes the nervous giggle escape her lips.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll…” she falls onto a nearby couch, “I’ll just be here.”
The back of her neck feels suddenly warm, so she gathers her hair up and holds it for a minute without actually tying it back, just for something to do with her hands. She sits and she takes deep, centering breaths, and most importantly, she watches Chan work.
The thing is, they’ve been standing on the precipice of… something, for months now. Ever since Felix first walked into Chan’s shop and said she’d just opened a photography studio down the street with some friends and was offering her services to anyone in the neighborhood. Even before they ever had a real conversation — before they discovered their mutual appreciation of Coldplay, and the fact that they grew up mere kilometers from each other — there was a spark.
If Chan had guessed back then, she’d have said that spark would catch quick, that she and Felix would burn bright and fast and inevitable. But this slow burn that they’ve settled into has been just as good. Maybe better. It’s softer than Chan expected, sure, but the glow warms her from the inside out. So far, she’s been happy to just bask in it.
“Alright, little one,” she calls out, as she finishes setting up her station. “I’m ready for ya.”
Obediently, Felix pops up from the couch and makes her way over. She finally tied up her hair after holding it up for a while, and it’s piled high on top of her head. Once Felix is close enough, Chan reaches out and tugs at one of the loose strands framing her face.
“Cute.”
Felix scrunches her nose but looks pleased, then glances around. “Right, so. Can we go over it all again?”
Chan takes her through all the equipment, then hands her some gloves. Once Felix has pulled them on, Chan takes out the stencil she prepared. “You want me to put this on, or do you want to try?”
“Mmmm. I can try, I guess.” Felix sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, but she looks determined.
Good girl, Chan thinks, then thanks all the gods above that she didn’t say that out loud. Clearing her throat, she holds out the stencil. “Okay, just like we talked about. First, you gotta wipe down the skin…”
She guides Felix through the rest of the prep, but she barely needs to; Felix is a good study, and she remembers everything from their lessons. Soon, she’s carefully placing the stencil, pressing down gently like Chan taught her, and then peeling it away with just as much care.
After a few moments peering at it to make sure it’s perfect, Felix looks up at Chan. “What do you think? Does it look okay?”
The design is simple: two stars next to each other, made up of intersecting lines. Chan would have trusted Felix with something more complicated, but they settled on this, mostly because Felix said, “Stars just make me think of you,” so earnestly that it knocked Chan back a bit.
“Looks good,” she answers, and Felix makes an excited little noise while she shakes her fists. Chan is, as always, hopelessly endeared.
She watches Felix grab the tattoo gun and huff out a breath. “Okay. Okay. Are we ready?”
Chan nods. “Ready. You’re gonna do great.” Then, she reaches out and grips Felix’s shoulder briefly, looks her straight on. “I trust you.”
Felix’s eyes, already so big and round, widen even further before she lets out a longer breath. “Okay. Thanks for saying that.” Then she bends down and mutters to herself, “Here we go.”
The first contact feels the same as always: sharp and penetrating, a tiny drill dragging down and into Chan’s skin. It’s painful, of course— Chan thinks anyone who says otherwise is lying. It’s a nice pain, though, as addictive as everyone says. Chan likes it as much as the end result itself.
“Wow,” Felix says, marveling. “You don’t even flinch.”
Chan lets out a chuckle. “Well, it’s not exactly my first rodeo.”
She watches Felix closely for any signs of a freakout, but she’s doing well. Really well. Chan feels a rush of pride. She knew Felix was ready for this. In fact, with the way she’s bent over and laser-focused, Felix could pass as a professional. The tattoo gun looks so natural in her grip, no one would ever guess she’d never held one before this month.
As she continues watching, Chan thinks of a line from a poem she read long ago, one that feels like it was written for the girl in front of her: Not even the rain has such small hands.
Felix swears that time bends as she tattoos Chan. Objectively, she knows it’s quick, considering how simple the design is. But she’s being so careful, practically holding her breath the whole time, that someone could tell her a whole year passed and Felix would probably believe them.
When they practiced on fruit, Felix thought maybe she’d know what this would feel like. Chan had said it wasn’t so different. She’s pretty sure that was a lie, though. It’s so different. Maybe the sensations are similar. The amount of pressure, the resistance of flesh. But it’s a whole different ball game to have Chan under her grip, warm and vibrant and alive. Part of her still can’t believe it, even as it’s happening.
She remembers texting Minho after one of her practice sessions with Chan, just to ask how long she’d practiced before tattooing actual people. When she’d answered hmm, maybe a few months?, Felix lost it. She’d tattooed less than ten fruits, and Chan had already given her the green light.
After that, Felix asked countless times if Chan was sure about this, if she was sure Felix was ready and could handle this. Every time, Chan’s gaze had gone soft and she’d given the same resounding yes.
Since the beginning, Chan has been pushing her, ready to catch Felix when she lands. Though they haven’t known each other that long, objectively — just under half a year — Chan puts an immense amount of trust in her, and it feels both insane and completely logical, because Felix has done the same from the start.
As she wraps up the first star, Felix checks in with a, “You doin’ okay, Channie?” She glances up too, for good measure, and what she sees makes her heart stutter in her chest.
Because Chan is already looking at her. It’s totally different from earlier this afternoon. That look had been hungry, wanting. It had sent a thrill down Felix’s spine. But this… this is soft, openly adoring. And Felix realizes it’s not a new look. She’s seen it before, on Chan’s face and her own.
That’s love, probably. The thought drops into her brain like a coin in a well, and Felix tries not to startle as it lands.
Felix doesn’t know how long they look at each other, but Chan breaks first, suddenly sheepish. “Um. I’m doing good, yeah. Great. You’re doing so well.”
Pressing her lips together so they don’t break into some terrible, dumb grin, Felix says, “Oh. Good. That’s really good.” And then, because apparently it’s a day for allowing herself to do things, she leans forward and gently bumps her forehead against Chan’s. “Thanks for letting me do this for you.”
Chan doesn’t really know how she gets through the rest of her tattoo without melting from Felix’s sweetness and overall proximity, but she does. Miraculously. She makes it through that forehead touch, and she makes it through the second, slightly larger star. The hardest part is probably the bandaging; Felix does it with such tenderness that Chan has to look away, lest she sweep her up in her arms and never let her go.
Once she’s all set, she hops off the chair. “Time to switch places!” she says, and her voice is thankfully steady.
Felix takes off her gloves and takes her seat in the client chair. “It’s kinda weird sitting here now,” she giggles. “Watch out, I’m coming for your job.”
“I am almost positive you could poach half my clients with that smile of yours.” She pokes at Felix’s cheek before snapping on her gloves.
This is maybe Felix’s fourth or fifth time sitting for Chan, and they’re both really excited about today’s design. It’s a dagger, long and sharp and with a bejeweled handle. A lot like Felix, really: a weapon when necessary, but otherwise lovely to look at. Something to admire.
Once they get it placed, Chan settles in for the long haul. It’s not a huge tattoo, just a few inches long on the outside of Felix’s shin. But Chan knows Felix by now, and she is always incredibly squirmy through the first few minutes of a tattoo. Part of it is that she’s so excited, and the rest is that it takes her a while to remember how to manage the pain.
“You sure you’re ready?” Chan checks in one last time. “Like the placement and everything?”
“Yeah,” Felix says, and it comes out breathy. Another common occurrence with a Felix tattoo. “I’m sure.”
Chan nods, and then bends down to get to work.
She’s well past the first few strokes when she realizes: Felix is lying perfectly still. No twitching, no hisses of pain. She’s not even making noise. It’s so unlike her, but Chan doesn’t want to spook her by bringing it up, so she just concentrates on her linework.
The stillness goes on for a solid ten minutes, only broken up by the music Chan always has playing in the shop, and she decides to finally address it.
“Did you sneak a sedative when I wasn’t looking?”
Felix’s responding “Hmm?” sounds almost dreamy, which doesn’t do anything to dispute Chan’s teasing question.
“You’re really relaxed,” Chan goes on. “Maybe we should start every session with you tattooing me. I think it got all your usual energy out.”
“Mmmm. Yeah.” This time, Felix manages to look back at her, but her eyes are pretty glazed over, and she sounds even floatier and farther away. It’s endearing and arousing, and Chan might be dying, a little.
“Alright, baby,” she says on an exhale. “You just sit tight. We’ll get through this, easy-breezy.”
Felix isn’t sure where the haze from the beginning of her session came from. She only knows that once it lifts a little, a few minutes into everything, she is able to enjoy one of her favorite parts of being tattooed by Chan.
Namely, watching Chan tattoo her.
The very first time, Felix remembers her nervous chatter through the whole beginning. Back then, Chan was a stranger, but she still took such good care of Felix. She let Felix pick the music (Imagine Dragons on loop for hours — Chan still likes to tease her about that), and she asked Felix questions to distract her from the pain.
In the present, Felix’s eyes fall once again on Chan’s hands. She knows how strong they are, has seen them carry weights and build furniture. But here, they are deft and gentle. And now, they bear the mark of Felix’s own work.
That knowledge is heady, and suddenly Felix wants to feel every other thing that those hands can do.
“Channie,” she says, and she’s surprised at how calm she sounds, even as she stands at the cliff’s edge about to dive in.
“Hmm?”
“Put the tattoo gun down, please.”
“Why, you need a break?” Chan looks up, eyebrows scrunched together. God, she’s so adorable.
“Yeah,” Felix says. “Yeah, I’d like a break.”
“Okay, sure,” Chan says, clearing all the equipment and straightening up. “You want some water or something? I got snacks in the back, I can get you—”
“No, thank you. Just… let me come over there real quick. Take off your gloves, please.”
And Chan looks totally bewildered and more than a little concerned. But as always, she does what Felix says. It makes Felix’s pulse go wild, a bit.
Felix stands up and makes her way over to Chan, waits for her to clear her station and remove her gloves. Then, slowly, slowly, she lowers herself onto Chan’s lap.
This part isn’t new, really. In the past year, Felix has conditioned Chan to expect these touchy moments. She doesn’t immediately retreat anymore, and she even reciprocates most of the time. She does so now, wrapping her arms around Felix’s waist to hold her in place, even if she has no idea why.
“Lix, what—”
“Shhh,” Felix breathes out. “Just… just let me try something.”
Chan’s normally sleepy eyes go huge for a moment, then flutter closed as Felix leans in.
In all the moments Felix has imagined their first kiss, she always thought it’d be heated. Desperate. Like losing your balance on a surfboard as it crashes through a wave. She’s surprised, then, at how they sink into it. Slow and deliberate, checking the warmth of the water before they completely dive in.
It has all the thrill of a first kiss, with the comfort of knowing the whole heart of the person you’re kissing. No awkwardness about it. Even though Felix surely caught Chan by surprise, she still kisses Felix back like she’s thought about it, planned out the exact slide of their mouths and every delicious noise she lets loose. Honestly, Felix wouldn’t be surprised if she had.
Chan tastes sweet and perfect, and Felix sinks her hands into the curls she’s been lusting after for months. There’s probably zero lip gloss left on her own lips, but she still thinks about turning Chan’s gorgeous mouth pink, marking her up in yet another way.
They go on like that for god knows how long, and it’s only when Chan starts massaging her tongue over Felix’s and Felix lets out a keening noise that she lets loose an incredulous, breathless laugh.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, what are we doing? I-I need to finish your tattoo, we gotta—”
“In a minute,” Felix soothes, before leaning back in to nip at Chan’s full bottom lip.
Chan’s breath hitches a little, and she looks up at Felix with that same open adoration from before. Felix is so glad she decided to take the leap and claim it.
As if she heard that thought, Chan grins so hard her dimples turn into canyons. She tightens her arms around Felix’s waist, pulls her in impossibly closer.
“You’re right,” she says, moving back in to return Felix’s kisses. “We have all the time in the world.”