Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Billy Cranston loved the smell of flowers, and he loved their colors, and he loved being surrounded by them, and the noise small insects attracted by them, made. He’d loved his little flower shop, technically owned by his father, but he was in charge anyway. Every morning he’d unlock the door, and walk in, and breathe in the smell of the wilting flowers, wait for the new batch to come in, and then sort through the old ones, and lovingly arrange all of them neatly into shelves, with vases lining one side, the longer lasting blooms in another, those that were not going to make it long to the front. 

Billy took pride in his shop; although business was slow most days, he made enough to live comfortably. Not that he was in a dire situation either, with his parents’ financial backing, but he’d wanted to do something of his own, be his own person. He was twenty three years old, and he’d opened his flower shop after getting a bachelor’s degree in chemistry from Angel Grove university. It had been initially, a simple start-up, to pass time by, while he filled out applications to NASA and the Defense services, but three months into the business, the boy fell in love with the peace and tranquility of his little haven, his little hideaway; he’d never been a very social person, and spending days after days, smiling politely to customers got a little tiring, but his step sister paid him visits, at times, and people were usually nice to him, he didn’t mind the solitude.

One fine morning, Billy was just arranging the wrapping ribbons together, and cutting the edges into some— rather prettier— patterns, little criss crosses, that when opened looked like tiny diamonds cut into the ribbon, when he heard the little tingling of the bell attached to the door, signaling a customer, and Billy looked up, and saw a familiar face, peeking at him from behind the orchids on aisle three, and found himself smiling without effort, as he gestured the taller man towards himself. 

“Somethin special this time, Zack?” he asked, pushing his glasses back up on his nose, grinning at his first customer of the day. 

“Hmmm kinda” Zack leaned on the counter, flirtatiously, but not quite, “I want something different this time?”

Zack was a very social, very amiable fellow, and he, more often than not, found himself crushing on some guy or girl— so often, that it was almost always every other week it seemed. And as it happened, the only way he actually knew to get their attention was with flowers, and as a result, Zack had become somewhat of an irregular regular at Billy’s shop. 

“So who’s it this time?” Billy asked, a grin forming on his features; he loved hearing Zack gushing over all details. The boy was very passionate about everything, and he would narrate the stories vividly and Billy would sorta live through some of them. It was like listening to an audiobook, or a podfic. 

“Okayyyy so his name’s Jason, and he’s a new barista at Ernie’s café…” Zack began, his face lighting up like a fir on Christmas Eve, “and he’s SO CUTE. He’s got this scar on his jaw, and little black beady eyes, and he messed up my coffee order that one time and apologised so many times. I told him it was okay, and the next day he had it ready for me before I could order— I totally feel there’s something like a, a spark?? Between us?? And I really don’t wanna let it go”

“Sooo what kinda flowers would you be looking for, then, Zack?” Billy asked, sliding the tabletop to the side, and making his way towards the aisles over aisles of flowers from behind the counter. 

“I don’t know… maybe something that’s not too forward, but at the same time say ‘I like like you’?” He replied a little hesitantly, “what do you say?” 

“Does he have a favorite color?” Billy questioned, sieving through the multicolored roses, and Zack scratched his head. 

“Ummm I don’t know… he’s always wearing red though, under his cream barista apron” Zack pressured his mind to remember every single detail— it wasn’t hard for him to do. 

“Every day? How many days exactly are we talking about here?” The florist chuckled, “because if it’s a lot it means either he really loves the color, or is a power ranger or something” 

Zack grinned, “about a week. And I’m sure he’d have more colors!” 

“Alright. So red it is. But you don’t wanna be… too forward, so that’s a no to red roses.” Billy moved from the aisle and towards the daisies. 

“Ooh I like these!” Zack excitedly pointed to the ones Billy had pulled out from one of the bunches further back.

“Thanks! They’re Gerbera Daisies” he explained, “and they’re the fifth most popular flower in the world. Their cheerful meaning and bold appearance make this flower a favorite for expressing romantic thoughts and feelings.” He narrated like a real life encyclopedia. 

Zack grinned along, nodding and providing quips about the different shapes and sizes and textures of the flowers, while Billy collected red ones from all sides of the flower shop to make a beautiful melange of reds, peppered with those small green shrubs with tiny white flowers to add some more leverage to the bouquet. 

“Daisies, poinsettias, carnations, orchids and hyacinths… I think ‘Jason’ will like them” he smiled, taking them to the table with him, and laying them on a thin plastic wrap, 

“I love you Billy!!!!!” Zack lunged forward to hug the smaller boy, excitedly, “I don’t know how I’d flirt if it wasn’t for your flowers” he grinned. 

Billy shook his head, “you’d probably find another way, I’m sure” he was still grinning though, “you’re so cool anyway” 

Zack chuckled, “oh yeah, I’m cool! Hey do you think Jason would like ‘cool’ boys?” 

“He already probably likes you, Zack. There’s no way anyone can’t like you” Billy grinned. 

“Oh I hope so.” The ice-dancer paid the florist for the bouquet, and just as he was leaving, he suddenly found himself reminded of something, and sprinted back to the counter, where Billy had returned to his task with the ribbons. 

“Hey Bill see this!” Zack quickly hppped back onto the counter, “I got a tattoo!!” He pulled the left shoulder of his violet and black top down, and revealed a neat and stylised Z, wrapped around which was a small vine, little prickly leaves of a plant Billy didn’t recognise, that ultimately ended in an axe, hanging off. It looked rad. 

“Oh my god that’s SO COOL!!” Billy excitedly said, bringing a hand close to it, and then retracting it, “can I touch it?” 

“Heck yeah!” Zack grinned, and Billy carefully traced his fingers over his friend's tattoo. 

Zack almost read Billy’s mind, at that moment, stealing the words out of his mouth, “would you like to get one too? I’d really recommend the artist— as you can see their work is GOLD” 

“I— uh—“ Billy didn’t know how to respond to it; although he was thinking the exact thing, he hadn’t expected Zack to bring it up. 

“Come on! It’ll be awesome! You’ll look so wicked!” He grinned, as he watched Billy’s eyes devour the little pattern on his skin; he knew Billy would like it, Billy was always hesitant in trying out new things, but just a few days back, the florist had been offended by something his sister’s boyfriend had casually said to her, and Zack had been at the shop that day to buy some violet orchid blooms, and once they were gone, Billy had confessed that he didn’t like it. 

You see, Matthew Cook was a bit of a jerk; he was one of those jocks who had had everything under control, and wouldn’t pass up any opportunity to belittle anyone who didn’t… be it directly, or indirectly in the form of snide remarks. 

And his favorite thing ever was tormenting Billy over the fact that 1. He was a guy running a flower shop, and 2. Billy was into guys. 

Honestly, Matt’s “standards of masculinity” annoyed Kim, Billy’s step sister too, (she didn’t even know half of what he said, and Billy didn’t tell her either) but for some reason she continued to see him. Either way, once they were gone, Billy had told Zack just how much he’d love to do something that’d come off as a slap across Matt’s face. 

And yes, yes Matthew Cook was hella scared of tattoo needles. Or needles of any time. 

And with Zack helping Billy recollect this particular incident, he was sure Billy would say yes. 

He did. 

XXX

Billy was a little scared, somewhat skeptical, as he walked through the ruffian neighbourhood. Most of the shops looked worn down, old, dark. Shutters were pulled down, and blinking neon signs that everyone forgot to shut down when the night, and the neighbourhood’s most happening time was over, punks and rugged looking ruffians loafing around on the side of the streets, eyeing Billy curiously as if he were fresh meat to pick off and pound. 

This was the kind of place here you wouldn’t feel safe even if you were walking with ten friends. And it was a place Billy wouldn’t be caught dead in. 

He looked at the little slip of paper in his hand, the words “Skullovitch Inks, No. 42, Tyranno Cove” scrawled in Zack’s handwriting, and then read the numbers on the shop. Left side were the odd numbers, right were the even ones, and he was on 36. Walking a few more paces, he found himself standing in front of the shop. 

It was an old looking thing, run down and dilapidated, probably not getting a lot of business— which would be surprising considering the number of tattoo-ed punks in this part of town. He looked at the shop’s facade, carefully noticing every little detail, from the lifted tin shutters, to the sorta clean street outside it, littered by only a couple of cigarette butts here and there, as if someone had sweeper only the morning before. A thing he wouldn’t find strange in the part of the town he lived in, but here, it looked out of place. 

The windows were plastered with posters of tattooed men and women, probably all done by the artist, black ink, red ink, green ink, blue ink, white ink, and beautiful designs. Not much could be seen inside the shop from the outside, though. 

He finally decided to open the door and step in. 

He found himself greeted by sudden darkness, and it took a minute for his pupils to dilate and his eyes to adjust to the dimness. 

“Uh, hello?” He called out, “anyone there?” 

A sudden movement caught his eye, and he realised there was a man sitting on one of the chairs, a magazine of some sort in hand, who had just lifted his head to look in Billy’s direction. 

He quietly got up, and flicked on the lights, from one corner, “Hi!” He tiredly said, emerging from the darkness now, and what Billy saw was a skinny man, pale faced, greasy black hair pointing up up up, with more hair gel than Billy could probably ever even use in a lifetime, with a sort of sharp face, a really long nose, and dark piercing eyes. He had an earring in the right ear, and wore a black graphic tee, with a faded red colored bandana around his neck. There was a leather jacket with spikes attached lying on one of the chairs, obviously belonging to him, and obviously discarded because of the poor ventilation. 

“Welcome to Skullovitch Inks… what may I draw on you?” 

~TBC

Chapter Text

Skull smiled at the boy standing in his doorway, his first customer of the day. Business was usually slow during the day. Skull never worked twenty-four seven, but he did have a habit of sleeping very little. Whenever he felt like sleep was knocking at his door, he’d hang a little ‘closed’ sign at the doorway, pull down the shutters, and take a nap. Other than that, he’d usually stay at the shop, reading, writing, hanging out with Bulk, anything and everything. His apartment was just above the shop, which he shared with his childhood best friend, Bulk, and he only went up when Bulk was around for company. 

And Bulk’s job usually worked at the night shift, and he spent his daytime, either sleeping or hanging out with Skull. It was a nice little arrangement they had going on. Skull didn’t mind it.

It did get boring, sitting in the shop sometimes, but then when customers began rolling in, it was better. Making conversation with customers wasn’t much of a hobby for him, but he knew his thing, and a lot of customers sounded curious— obviously not the ‘rougher’ ones, they preferred if he stayed silent during the process.

So, Skull just made sure he asked the customer’s preference before getting started. 

The boy standing in his doorway, in the middle of the afternoon, didn’t seem like the regular kind to get a tattoo, though. Skull scrutinised him a little, he wore a blue and white flannel shirt, denim jeans, a nerdy frame of glasses, and had such fluffy hair . He looked more like someone here on a dare than actually here to get a proper tattoo; something of an impromptu decision. 

And people who got tattoos usually came with a friend, or an attendant, he had come alone. Maybe he wanted to get one in secret. Skull didn’t inquire much about the customer, though, as was policy— unless the customer was willing to share, in which case, he usually listened with a smile, and offered input wherever required. Some customers liked it when he talked them through the pain, and sometimes he felt like his job was like that of a bartender, a therapist without pay. 

The boy— his hair were so fluffy, Skull almost felt like running his hand through them, but then stopped himself, smiling quietly— looked like a kid in a science class, who’d just been asked a question he didn’t know the answer to. 

“I… Do you do flowers?” 

Skull tilted his head, “flowers?” 

“I mean, is it too girlish?” he ran a hand through his hair, nervously, then pushed his glasses back up on his nose, and that made Skull let out a little chuckle, “Nothing is ‘too girlish’ and ‘too guyish’, sir” he smiled, “If you want flowers, I’ve got a lot of flowers for you” 

He got up and moved towards him, and almost saw him blush, “I— Thank you! And just call me Billy!”  

Skull nodded, smiling still, “well, nice to meet you, Billy. My name is Skull ~”

Skull… What a befitting name for a tattoo artist, though… Billy eyed the boy, taking in his slender appearance, and his manner seemed gentle… not particularly suiting his name. But hey, who was he to question. Billy felt a blush creeping into his cheeks at the thought of how pretty the boy looked to him. 

“What kind of flowers do you like?” 

That was a complicated question, Billy wondered, because he was a florist. He had such an in-depth knowledge about the types of flowers, he was more than sure this tattoo artist wouldn’t really know anything about them at all. 

But it was still worth a shot, because Billy hadn’t come here with anything particular in mind. 

“Do you have any preference? Something you’d like to draw?” he asked, a little nervously.

Skull was surprised, and he gestured to Billy to take a seat, which he did, “I don’t know you. So I do think you’d be better off to tell me what you want to get”

He sat down next to Billy, with a smile, and Billy returned said smile, “Well… you’re the artist… How about you tell me a flower that… feels like me? Something that you feel, would suit me?” he asked, but then nervously added, “or would that be too weird?”

“It’s not the first time someone’s asked me to choose whatever the hell I want to draw on’em, but it’s the first time for flowers” Skull laughed, “wait, I’ve got a catalogue” 

He got up and brought a little file filled with beautiful photographs, “you’ve drawn all of these?” Billy asked, in awe, flipping through pages upon pages of beautiful flowers, on various body parts of people, and the tattoo artist— did he just blush?

“I… yeah” he ran a hand through his gel-filled hair, “do you like any of these?”

Billy looked through the entire catalogue. All the flowers present were beautiful. Simply stunning, each and every one of those a work of art. 

“I can’t choose,” he said, looking embarrassed, handing the file back to the tattoo artist, “they’re all equally amazing”

“Uh…” Skull seemed at a loss for words, not only had this boy been so gentle, so nice, he’d oh so sweetly, complimented all of Skull’s designs, without any egoistic comments, as a lot of his customers often did. Skull was somewhat used to it, too, though, as a lot of the times, when a muscled goon would walk in, order him for a design that was either too complicated, or too cliche, and then pretend to be completely unaffected by the pain, even though Skull could see him wincing, and then leave after paying the bill— a lot of them intimidated him into not doing that too, but his roommate Bulk made sure they were at least remotely decent to him, and he didn’t starve on the streets— but not before grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and saying “if anyone finds out what happened here, except you and me, you are the one who will be eaten by vultures.” 

Just like that, no thank you, no appreciation of his art… but Skull was used to it. The appreciation felt so nice, but also, so, so out of place, he almost didn’t know how to respond to it. 

“Do you have any preference?” 

“It’s not my call to make, sir” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck, “but if you want, I can suggest something on the vibes you’re going for” 

Billy looked expectantly, fully knowing that the tattoo artist might not know a lot about flowers as Billy did, being a florist, but willing to give him a chance, he seemed just so… nice. 

“What kind of feelings do you want the tattoo to represent for you?”

“Something that someone who sees me for the first time feels. What do you think?”

“I have just the thing in mind” Skull smiled, and closed the book, walking towards the little shelf once again, and pulled out an encyclopaedia, “I’ve never done this one before, but” he showed Billy a photograph of an incredibly beautiful flower , delicate as the wing of a butterfly, with veins shining through translucent fabric of the petals, petals bending through as if they were made of glass, something so intricate, exquisitely unreal, “Diphylleia Grayi” Skull said, “otherwise known as Skeleton flowers” 

He chuckled, watching Billy’s absolutely awestruck expression at the picture, “I’m not sure how good I’ll be able to capture it, but they’re amazing flowers, their symbolism is basically in the fact that they’re white colored, pretty normal looking flowers, but when it rains, they turn transparent, like this, and start looking something absolutely… ethereal. So, they signify that…” Skull looked at Billy, then interrupted his own sentence, with a “Where do you want the tattoo to be, sir?”

Billy held up his hand, and pointed to his wrist, feeling himself entranced by this strange, eccentric tattoo artist, and his entire demeanour, “Well,” he held Billy’s hand in his, inspecting his forearm with utmost concentration, then smiled, “They signify, there’s more to you than it seems, Billy ”

Billy felt goosebumps crawling on his skin, hearing the other boy say his name. The emotion that the two syllables encompassed in his voice, seemed to have more weight and gravity than Billy’s entire lifetime of words. 

And then he saw Skull looking at the goosebumps, and then immediately turned a shade redder than the roses in his flower shop, “I— I—” 

“Would you like the tattoo in white ink?” He offered, himself, “most first timers prefer it, because if the artist messes up, they can just excuse it off like it’s a birthmark, or a lightning strike mark. It does hurt more than regular ink does, though” 

Billy found himself astonished at this man’s bluntness, once again, and then considered the option he had placed in front of him, “I think, I think yeah, that’ll be okay. Besides, these flowers would only look good in white ink, no?” he almost laughed, and then watched, to his immense satisfaction, a small smile spread over the other boy’s face, “Alright, then, sir. Right this way!” 

The guy seemed professional, he quoted his price, which, to Billy felt a little underpriced, but he didn’t bargain, not knowing how the tattoo would come out. He was led into a sterilised chamber, that had the feeling of an operation theatre; he wore a mask, gloves, and made Billy lie down in the most comfortable position, in a way that his arm, which was to be the canvas of this artist’s masterpiece, exposed; he first drew the design with a thin tipped silver sharpie, and Billy watched him, in his concentration, awestruck. There was a strange sort of magnetism in him, and Billy found himself completely being pulled towards him, in that. 

He drew the lines intricately, and then showed them to Billy, who approved the design— it was marvellous. There was no comparison to it, it looked like a pencil sketch of that image. He could only imagine how beautiful it would look when ultimately realised…

And then the pain started. The needle started slow, with him repeatedly questioning Billy about if he was comfortable, and that he needed to trust Skull, followed by more counselling, and ultimately, the beginning of the session. It pricked at first, but then it started to get really intense; Billy was more than embarrassed to squeal, so he tried biting down on his tongue for most of the process, holding tears in, but an occasional (okay many ) squeals made their way through him, and out into the open. If the artist noticed it, he didn’t make a fuss about it, he was probably used to people screaming their heads off while he did his work… but somehow, BIlly felt ashamed that he was making such a fuss about this. 

Halfway through, maybe Skull realised that Billy was holding back, and he paused, for a second, and then said, “it’s okay ” and the gentleness in his tone made Billy turn into putty in his hands. He screamed when it hurt, after that, laughed when it tickled, and somehow, in retrospect, enjoyed the remainder of the process. 

And when the inking was done, Billy stared at the petals that now adorned his arm, ornate petals, dipped in white ink, along with vines flowing on either side, in an ‘s’ like manner, starting at his wrist, and ending at a little below his elbow joint. 

Billy loved it. 

And then he covered it up with some sort of wound dressing. 

Payment done, Billy stood at the counter, staring at Skull, head tilted, a strange smile on his face, as if he and this boy had accomplished the greatest mission of all time, and rescued humanity, and had now, come to the time when the movie ended, and they had to part. In such a short time, in such a rash decision, he had found himself irrevocably attracted to this man. And he wasn’t sure if it was right to feel this way, but he knew one thing, there was no going back. 

“Please remember” Skull handed Billy a little pamphlet, “a tattoo is like a wound, until it’s fully healed. You have to take great care of it” 

Billy nodded along, half listening to what he was saying, half admiring his lips as they moved, until he suddenly said, “is that okay?” 

And he found himself jerked back into reality, and nodded nervously, as if he’d earnestly heard every word he had said, “and if you have any doubts, please refer to the pamphlet” he smiled, “and thank you for choosing my humble shop for your first time! Look forward to serving you again in the future!” 

That seemed vaguely memorised, but Billy didn’t mind. He smiled at him, blushed at him, mumbled some idiotic statement, which he cussed himself for, hours after he was out of Skullovitch Inks. 

And just like that, Billy Cranston had his first tattoo. 

And he knew it in his heart, he was definitely going back there again. 

He just needed another excuse. 

Chapter Text

“Kim, Kim, Kim, Kim, Kim, Kim, Kim!!” Billy had been chanting the girl’s name for the past half an hour, while simultaneously following her around the house as she tried to get rid of him. 

Meanwhile, Kimberly Hart, Billy’s half-sister, was power walking across the house at maximum speed, pretending to be busy with chores— which was really just picking up clothes and trinkets from every corner of the house, just so she could avoid her brother’s stupid request. 

Of course, after a half hour of doing this, and Billy still not letting up, she finally decided to concede. She sighed, indicating him that he was starting to annoy her, and plopped down on the couch, finding the first magazine she could from the pile, and began flipping through the pages— only to realise to her exasperation that it wasn’t one of hers, it was one of Billy’s tech magazines. Oh dear god. 

“You do know that’s the latest issue of Snapping Tetraenes, right?” He asked with a shit-eating grin. 

Kim looked up at him, and if looks could kill, Billy would’ve dropped dead right at that second, but fortunately, none of that was on the line, so Billy continued, “Well, now that I do have you as my captive audience, stuck between me and my magazine, I have an offer for you.”

“An… offer?” Kim raised her eyebrows, a little bit more interested now. 

“An offer.” Billy nodded, “You do something for me, and I’ll do something for you in return.”

Kim rolled her eyes, “depends on what you’re asking of me.” 

Billy sat down in front of her, hands interlocked, looking deep in thought, as if stringing the sentences together, and finally, gathering all the courage he had, he finally said, “you should get a tattoo!”

Of everything that Kim could’ve imagined Billy would say, this was not it. 

“Billy, what?” 

“Look! I got one too!” He lifted his wrist to show Kimberly the tattoo, and Kim smiled. She’d seen it a couple weeks ago, when he’d gotten it. It was fully healed now, the elegat skeleton flowers etched on his skin in white ink looking as beautiful as they did in those pictures. 

“Yes, Billy, I know you got one, but why do you want me to get one?” 

“I don’t know— I just…” he trailed off, wondering how to explain to her why he wanted her to get a tattoo— truth was, he wanted to see that tattoo artist again. There was something about that guy that almost forbade Billy’s mind to forget him. Maybe it was a little bit of a crush, but those Opal grey eyes, and the way he laughed, little smile wrinkles lining his dimpled cheeks, his slicked back hair, the way he’d guided Billy through the process— it was stupid, almost, to have a crush on your tattoo artist, but it was probably what had happened to Billy, and while Billy wanted to see him again, he was afraid of getting more tattoos along his skin, so soon, at least. So the next best thing he’d thought about was asking Kimberly for it— with all the favours they usually exchanged, it would be a small thing, right?

“Wait…” Kim broke him out of his reverie, “Wait a minute… are you asking me to do this because you got a crush on that tattoo artist?” 

The redness that spread through Billy’s cheeks was enough to answer her question immediately. She let out a hearty laugh and then laid back against the couch, watching as her brother struggled with the revelation. 

“Come on, Billy, say it.” 

“Alright fine,” Billy conceded, “I might have a tiny little of a crush on him. But that’s not why I’m asking you for the tatt—” 

“That’s exactly why you're asking me, Billy.”

“Okay, fine, yes, that’s why I’m asking you for the tattoo. How’d you know?” 

“I’ve known you since we were four, Billy.” Kim laughed, picking up her own magazine from the table, this time, and flipping through, “I can tell what you’re thinking by the way your eyes move. It's not that big of a science, you genius.”

Billy smiled a bit embarrasedly at that, “So… will you do it?” 

“That depends on what he can draw.”

XXX

Kimberly was a little more skeptical of the neighbourhood than she usually would’ve been. It was a sleepy little place, but it also felt like the type that wouldn’t be the safest for someone like Billy to wander about, at night. Yes, she was here to get a tattoo, but that was secondary— a part of the reason why she’d agreed to this deal (she’d get the tattoo, and in return, Billy would help her with her ‘academics’, which she’d been falling off on, forever. She thought it was a fair deal, but the genius thought she was milking it a bit extra. She’d added another carrot to the stick, saying that she was down to get multiple tattoos, if it meant Billy could actually find himself a boyfriend. Yes, it was a weird concept, but her brother had always been a bit of a weirdo. And you never know, it could work out.)— but the primary reason was to scout the potential ‘crush’ Billy had gotten. She needed to look out for him, he was a softie and he often didn’t see things for what they were. 

And by the looks of this neighbourhood, all Kim was seeing were red flags. 

They finally found the shop, ‘Skullovitch Inks,’ and Kim looked at the run-down place, inspecting thoroughly before looking at Billy, “this is it? I’m not sure I’ve got a very good feeling about this place…” 

“Just come inside.” Billy seemed oddly confident, “Trust me, you’ll like it.” 

And that vague mogra scent that followed the second he opened the door almost changed her mind about the place. 

Yes, it was not the best place, but she could see the efforts of beautification made by the owner. The plants, the various scented candles, it seemed a bit haphazard, but she did admit, she was getting a slightly better vibe from the place than she was from the rest of the neighborhood it was in.  

Billy noticed that it was a bit brighter than the last time he’d been here. A couple of lights were switched on, but there was nobody in sight. He looked at Kim who shot him a puzzled look. 

Then, Billy raised his voice and called out, “Hello? Anyone here?” 

A few seconds later, there was a loud crashing noise. Another second later, the sound of a cat’s distressed meow, and a few more seconds later, a door at the far back of the shop opened up, and in walked the man who had stolen Billy’s heart and locked it up in this very tattoo parlour. 

“Hello, Skullovitch Inks, how may I help—” he started, before he noticed Billy standing there, and his lips broke into a wide smile, “ oh,” he started, “Hello again!” He dipped into a little bow and gestured them in. 

“When was the last time you smiled so bright and goofy, Billy,” Kim whispered to him and it made Billy realise that he was smiling just as wide as Skull was, as he tidied around the shop once more to make space for the two of them. 

“I’m just happy you’re getting a tattoo,” he whispered back. 

Once Skull had switched on all of the lights, he faced them again, and once again, "welcome to Skullovitch inks, what may I draw for you?”

“Hey Skull,” Billy waved a bit awkwardly, “remember me?” 

It was a rhetorical question, but Skull still answered, “Yes, of course, Billy,” he was smiling, “I hope there weren’t any problems with the—” 

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that!” Billy interrupted him, hoping there wouldn’t be any confusion, “and this is my sister,” he added, for good measure, “and she wants to get a tattoo too!” 

“I see,” Skull replied, looking at Kimberly before gesturing towards the catalogue. 

“What would you like me to draw for you?” he asked, gently.

Before Kim could reply, Billy spoke in her place, “Some flowers?” and Kim shot him a slightly annoyed look, before turning to the tattoo artist, “some flowers.” she repeated.

Skull smiled, “of course.” He flipped the catalogue to the section with flowers, “Do you have a favorite?”

“Quite a few,” Kim replied, flipping through the beautiful catalogue, “can you really draw any of these?”

“I’m rather well versed with most of them, yes.” 

“How about… something pink.” Kim said, “I mean, don’t think I’m going with the cliche-est girly flower type, but I think it might be good symbolism if I pick pink orchids?” 

“Of course, happiness, joy, grace, and innocence: the perfect symbolism, I hope?” 

Kim agreed, and Skull noticed Billy looking at him from the corner of his eye, and he almost blushed. 

The tattoo artist began setting up the tables in one of the booths within the shop, getting his equipment ready, when Billy noticed the door in the back opening once again— the same door from which Skull had emerged earlier, and a large, bulky man came into view. He seemed like the type who would live in these neighborhoods, with his rugged leather jacket, violet t-shirt with the design of a man with a head on fire riding a motorbike, his light brown hair tied up in a bun behind him and a rather unpleasant expression on his face. He had a biker's helmet in his hand, and he looked about ready to say something before he noticed the two customers sitting in the shop and checked himself.

Billy half wondered if he were about to get in trouble— his sixth sense was tingling… something was about to happen. He almost giggled at the idea of having a spidey-sense, but quickly returned his face to one of non-chalance, hoping the man would not pay attention and he tried to busy himself into one of the catalogues, when he suddenly heard a voice. 

Kim. 

“ You?”

He looked at her, and it seemed like Skull had heard the sharp tone of her voice as well, because he too poked his head through the curtain to look at what was happening. 

The bigger man was already halfway through the door, but Kim’s voice held him back, he turned around and gave Kim a once-over, taking her in detail. 

“Excuse you?” His voice was softer than what Billy had expected, coming out of him. 

“You don’t remember me?” 

The man shrugged, and Billy could see Kim getting annoyed. She’d always been the popular girl, the type who people couldn’t forget for days, if not weeks, after they’d met her, just once. 

“...Ernie’s? Three days back?” 

The man paused to think, “Oh, the girl who was pretending to be thirty four,” he let out a hearty laugh. 

Billy could sense Kim was going to say something mean and he immediately decided to intervene— “Hello, hi, uh, do you guys know each other?” 

“Barely.” Kim huffed.

Oh, it occurred to Billy, they’d met in a possibly unpleasant way, before this. 

“Don’t pretend to be thirty four in a club that says 25-plus only. Gotcha?” 

“You know, I think you owe me an apology for that day.” She said, rather haughtily, “It’s rude to kick a girl out of a club.” 

“It’s rude to pretend to be thirty four in a club that clearly says 25-plus.” the man replied, shrugging and with that, he left the shop. Kim, Billy and Skull were left looking at each other.

“Did you two uh… know each other?” Skull asked. 

“He kicked me and Matt out of a bar three days ago.”

“Oh” Billy looked at Skull who was sharing the same second hand embarrassment. 

“He’s my best friend,” Skull revealed, “and also my roommate. And a bouncer at Club Ernie’s.”

Kim shrugged. “Funny running into him here,” but ignoring the little incident, she went and sat at the chair, ready for the tattoo. 

“Is it okay if I stick around?” Billy asked, a bit nervously, hoping he wouldn’t sound creepy about the request. 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Kim knew the real reason Billy wanted to stick around, and that was to be around Skull, so yes, she agreed. It was rather sweet, seeing her brother talk with this tattoo artist. She realised that so far, she’d not gotten any negative vibes or any alarming red flags from him— minus the bouncer roommate, but he too seemed like the kind to mind his own business. So, as Skull worked on the tattoo, she thought it could be interesting to see if there was a way she could act as a matchmaker… 

She also noticed how much Billy blushed when Skull said something to him. The two were sharing quiet conversations about flowers, and it occurred to her that the artist had good knowledge about the flowers as well— and Billy, with his one true love (yet) being flowers, it was so obvious they’d hit it off so well. 

That was when she made up her mind. 

…

Kimberly was extremely happy with the tattoo by the time she and her brother left, Skull realised. Another satisfied customer, what else could Skull want, right? 

But somehow, deep down, Skull felt a deep… longing. Almost like he wanted more. Wanting to spend more time with them… with Billy. It was the same feeling he’d felt when Billy had left the first time. And it was nothing compared to the butterflies he’d felt in his tummy when he saw Billy enter the shop again today. He didn’t know what these weird feelings around his heart were, but he had a tiny suspicion that they might be… the hints of a crush.

And then, as he was cleaning up, he noticed a small piece of paper sticking out under the handle of the chair Kim had been sitting on. 

He unfolded it, wondering what it was doing there, and to his surprise, he found an address written there. 

‘27 Tricera Lane, Angel Grove, Billy’s Carnations. I hope you know your flowers well.’

Skull was speechless, as he stayed rooted to the spot, looking at the address, a million thoughts rushing through his head.