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Feng Xin had seen many things.
He'd seen many gore and respectively disgusting things throughout his life as a physical therapist. He had seen a patient unable to move their head caused by a certain muscle in their neck, he had seen a patient's limb bent at such an odd angle he vaguely wonders how they are still alive.
And sometimes he'd seen an emergency patient getting rushed into the hospital with a pole right in their stomach. Bleeding themselves to death if not for the nurse putting pressure on the wound.
He'd seen things that are unexplainable. An advantage and a disadvantage of being a doctor in a famous hospital.
Horror movies, all kinds, was nothing to him. All types of it, varying from a movie based on a true story, based on beliefs or legends, or mainly based on the human imagination. Ghosts, zombies, serial killers? It's like watching a kid's show.
There's only so much Feng Xin fears. One doesn't even have to use all five fingers to count how many makes him shudder with fear.
Fearing a woman's bath tub is one thing. It's called being respectful that he would rather gauge his own eyes out than even see the entrance of it.
And needles.
He is, by all fucking means, is afraid of needles. Even just the mention of it makes him feel like wanting to be a kilometer away from the mere conversation.
He doesn't like needles.
The mean, prickly and small needles that could pierce through flesh like it's absolutely nothing. The metallic thin needles that could also damage a human for life if not used and sanitised properly.
In his defense, a needle almost killed him when he was younger.
And he's not going to elaborate any further. The memory is simply a nightmare to remember, and yet he still does. He doesn't remember the best thing his mother did for him but he somehow remembers that traumatic moment. That moment where he had questioned if living still has any value in it.
Regardless, just because he's a physical therapist and his work place is quite literally in a hospital where needles are fucking everywhere, doesn't mean that he doesn't love what he does. He loves his patients. Loves being able to help people, loves offering advice for those that needed it, and just loves how many are willing to listen and heed to his words as if it were the words straight from god's mouth.
However, he is aware he is in need of a dire break. A break from the hospital's awful smell, a break from having to constantly move he thinks that he needs physical therapy, a break from people, from his co-workers, other nurses, other doctors, screams of agony and help, bleeding patients, paralysed people – he just needs a break.
Rest, some kind of thing to give back clarity to his muddled mind.
And so, that's how he finds himself sitting with an old friend of his, having a cup of coffee because he simply does not know what kind of break he needs.
Xie Lian hums, "Have you already informed your co-workers you'll be on leave?"
"Well, yes." Feng Xin responds, merely twirling the cold beverage in his hand with no intention of actually drinking from it any time soon. "But I haven't told them for how long."
"Go on a little vacation." The other says, sipping on his own cup of coffee. He was dressed in a casual attire, white shirt, cream coloured pants and white shoes. His hair in its usual half bun half down. "Across the country or overseas. Expose yourself to different cultures!"
"I might also get exposed to different kind of diseases." Feng Xin replies lamely, "I don't know. I'm not feeling like traveling right now."
"Then just do whatever you want." Xie Lian smiles, fixing his sleeves as Feng Xin's eyes lands right on his exposed skin before it was covered right back. "Book a reservation at a restaurant, visit the zoo, go to a bar. Just have fun!"
"I'll consider some things, thank you." Feng Xin smiles back, then he points at Xie Lian's arm. "Who did that tattoo? What kind of a tattoo is that? That looks nice."
There, Xie Lian seems to remember that he did indeed have a tattoo as he pulls down his sleeve he had just fixed. "Oh! This one was a free-styled tattoo by a friend! He's a great tattoo artist, the best one yet. He does digital art sometimes, as well."
"Oh, really?" Feng Xin asks, surprised. "You have a friend who's a tattoo artist?"
"Yes. Well, I met him through He Xuan who was once a tattoo artist before he became a seaman." Xie Lian shrugs, drinking the last of his coffee. "He's nice. Could be mean sometimes, but that's just him being him! You'll be great friends! He could do a tattoo on y-"
"Friends, could be. Tattoo on me?" Feng Xin fakes a laugh so painfully obvious. "Hell no. You'd see me in jail before you see a needle pressing against my skin. Never, Xie Lian, never."
"Ah, what did I expect." Xie Lian chuckles, shaking his head. He'd known of the odd fear long before Feng Xin had confessed, he questions why he even suggested such thing. "But you do should meet him sometime."
"I can meet him now." Feng Xin says, coughing awkwardly. "I'm free for like a week or so until I get sick of it and I eventually go back to work."
"Oh that's great!" Xie Lian quickly stands, tugging on Feng Xin's arm enthusiastically. "He's probably busy tattoin-"
"I don't want to bother-"
"But it's going to be fine!" Xie Lian kicks open the doors of the café, heedless of the shout he recieved as they quickly call for a taxi. "He's a bit popular now that he began to actually focus on his digital art a bit, and promoted his tattoo shop in twitter."
Feng Xin was thankful he managed to grab his iced latte before he was suddenly sitting in a taxi to god knows where. "He has twitter? What's his username? I want to see some of his works."
"You have twitter?"
"I'm not as old school as you think, Xie Lian."
The man in question laughs, pulling out his phone and types a few things on it before showing the other. "I know. It's just a surprise. I mean, what do you use twitter for, anyway?"
"To see shit tweets." Feng Xin shrugs, scrolling through the profile of the tattoo artist. Pleasantly surprised with both the digital artworks and the tattoos themselves from different costumers. There's a few things he hadn't liked, which was understandable because people has preferences and those didn't meet his preferences.
However, all in all, everything was beautiful and elegant.
"Let me guess." He rolls his eyes, "This is Hua Cheng's arm."
"Hm?" Xie Lian glances at his phone, he laughs again. "It is San Lang! How did you know?"
"Other than the stupidly deathly pale arm-" He squints. "It's also the silver butterfly resting on the white flower tattoo. I know you both have sort of a thing for that."
The more he scrolls, the more he realizes that some of the tattoo are so detailed. Detailed in a way he had thought was impossible. There's a flower bracelet tattoo he did on someone's wrist, the colouring was perfect. Not too much, and not too less.
It almost made him consider having a small tattoo on his finger.
But considering his field of work, ink can be quite dangerous to everyone else. It might not be dangerous on him, but it could be for patients he could accidentally touch in the hospital.
Perhaps, on a different part of his body?
He doesn't know. He's not even sure why he's thinking about it when he doesn't like the process of tattoos.
"We're here!" Xie Lian pays before Feng Xin could think. He pushes Feng Xin out of the car, pulling him toward the tattoo shop with eager steps.
The shop itself was quite nice. Welcoming in a way, and gives a vibe of exquisite elegancy in more ways. The outside designs were simple, it consists of a few posters of the tattoos, a plaque for the name of the shop, and some silver linings across the structure of the two-story building.
The interior was even better. Feng Xin doesn't know what he imagined a tattoo shop would look like, but he definitely did not imagine this kind of design. More posters were plastered on the wall, making sure all of them were the right size and in the right amount of height. The designs of the posters were not simple, akin to the tattoos itself, it was organised and characterised in a way that it popped out just enough for eyes to be attracted to it.
He finds that he likes those kinds of designs.
He also finds that whoever was wiping the table was hot.
"Welcome to Xuan Zhen - Xie Lian?" His hair has black strikes on his bangs and the tips of his silver hair that was thrown into a neat, high ponytail. "And a... friend?"
"Sorry for the sudden visit, Mu Qing." What Feng Xin had heard to know, the hot man named Mu Qing throws the cloth on a tray before wiping his hands on his black apron. Feng Xin vaguely questions the universe if one can be so sexy just merely doing that. "This is Feng Xin! He's a physical therapist on a break!"
"Oh-kay?" Mu Qing eyes Feng Xin up and down. Visibly checking him out as the victim of his eyes squirms on his spot inconspicuously at the sudden gaze. A frown on his face, "The childhood friend, I presume?"
"Oh, yes! You remember!" Xie Lian smiles widely, tugging Feng Xin closer toward the silverette. "I thought you wouldn't!"
"You've told him about me?" Feng Xin couldn't help but ask, and also wonder what exactly they talked about. He hopes it wasn't his embarrassing moments when he was but ten years old. He shudders when he remembers a particular one.
"Oh please." Mu Qing waves a hand dismissively. "It's hard not to forget about the 'most loyal and honest man I have ever met' that Xie Lian always speaks about the first times we've met. If I didn't know Hua Cheng existed, I would've assumed you were his boyfriend with how he talks about you." He grabs the tray, walking steadily toward a door.
"Oh." Feng Xin honestly doesn't know what to feel. "Well... thanks?" He says lamely. The hot dude isn't really welcoming as per say. He doesn't offer a hand to shake, nor does he acknowledge Feng Xin as particularly more than just a random stranger. Hell, he doesn't even bother saying his name. Making Feng Xin just guess that since Xie Lian already did, he'd know.
Which was also true, but it would be nice to have him also know that Mu Qing is still friendly in some aspects.
He's not.
And he also doesn't know what to feel about that.
"So, what brings you here?" Mu Qing did not enter the door. Instead, he places the tray just on top of the counter he passes by and turns back toward them. He folds his arms over his chest, "Other than introducing him?"
"Okay, seriously, if you don't want me to be here, just say so." Feng Xin scowls, "You don't have to act like a total asshole about this whole situation."
The silverette arches a brow, "You're the one that thought about that, first of. Second, if you don't feel welcome here to think like that, then you probably aren't. If you're not going to get a tattoo then fuck off, I have business to attend to."
"You're just proving the stereotype that 'tattoo artists are a bitch' right." Feng Xin scoffs. His patience had thinned, Mu Qing was still not trying to be nice when Feng Xin just wanted to have a new friend. "Can't even have the decency to say hello-"
"What do you want?" Mu Qing asks, furrowing his brows and scowling as deep as the other. "For me to act all two-faced and treat you like a damn prince? Lick your shoes and kowtow to you because suddenly you're a prince from some medieval era coming into the modernized world?"
"Ai, you two." Xie Lian puts his hands up in the middle of them. Chuckling nervously as his eyes flickered between the two. "Let's not fight. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding. Ahem, Feng Xin here... has anger issues-"
"I am acutely aware of it now."
"Fuck-"
"And curses a lot, too."
"Ahem." Xie Lian coughs again, more to silence them as he sighs. "Mu Qing's attitude can be a bit less than what you're used to, Feng Xin. He's not the type to be nice just because you ask him to be."
"What, so I adjust to him?" Feng Xin steps back with another scoff, crossing his arms as he tilts his head away. "The least he could do is not to be a total asshole. He doesn't have to be nice about it, just that he doesn't act like he's the president of some big ass country."
"I'd act worse if I am a president of a big country." Mu Qing shrugs non-committally. Suddenly twirling keys around his fingers as he leans his elbow on the glass counter. "But what exactly do you want? Because if you can't even answer a simple question right, I'm going to start questioning if you are as honest as what Xie Lian potrays you to be."
"I want -" Feng Xin curses again, more silently and more to himself as he puts his hands on his hips. "I want - I want goddamit-"
"Spit it out-"
"I want a tattoo!"
"..."
"... Feng Xin?"
"You heard me." Aggrieved, Feng Xin doesn't look at either of them. "I want a tattoo. Just - just more hidden because I work with disabled people and I don't want to suddenly cause an unknown disease or some shit."
Xie Lian cautiously makes a step toward him. "But... you just said earlier that you didn't want a tattoo?"
"People change. No matter how fast that change is."
"You're afraid of needles."
"I-!" And Feng Xin doesn't know what to say. He can't say that the fear suddenly vanished just as his want suddenly changed.
Because it didn't.
He still fears, and he still does not want a tattoo.
What was his reason for saying he wanted a tattoo?
Because he wanted to be the mature one and do something between the quick anger lingering about the air. Because he didn't want to be an asshole. Because he wanted a new friend, and if getting a tattoo could fix all of those, then why not?
(Also because Mu Qing is very, very hot and handsome and beautiful all the same. It's illegal if Feng Xin couldn't even touch his hand or have him close enough Feng Xin could see more of his face.)
"I just want a tattoo, okay? I don't care if I'm afraid of needles." He frowns then, almost a small pout if he's being honest with himself — he's not, he just likes thinking that he is, because then he doesn't have to deal with a lot of shit and he could ignore the thundering of his heart —.
He hears a sarcastic chuckle, he wills himself to look back toward the silverette. Now seeing a sly smirk on that gaudy asshole-ic (also handsome) face. "Big man, curses like a sailor, is "honest", and works in a medical field; afraid of needles. Needles. Really?"
"I could be a nurse and still fear blood." Feng Xin replies vehemently. "Look, are you going to do a tattoo on me or not?"
"Depends. Gonna pay?"
"Who do you think I am-"
"An idiot."
"Fucking-"
"Okay!" Xie Lian claps hard enough for it to echo a bit in the room. "Feng Xin asks for a tattoo. Mu Qing, you've been wanting to know what he wants, right?"
"Fine." Mu Qing stands straight. Wiping his hands on his apron again, he swivels on his heel toward the door Feng Xin had assumed he would enter earlier. "If he screams like a bitch, don't blame me."
"I will not scream like a bitch."
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Feng Xin feels as though he's going to scream like a bitch at any moment.
And it hadn't even started. He can't even see a needle yet. He's just sitting there, trying his hardest not to squirm too much lest the hot silver headed man suddenly annoy him again.
But really, this was probably one of his stupidest ideas.
"You can still back out." Xie Lian flashes him a sympathetic smile as he crouches down in front of him. "He'll understand. You don't have to get tattoo."
"He'll call me a little bitch and a coward if I do. Don't even say he won't, you know he will." Feng Xin grips the leather arms tighter before releasing his hold. "Besides, it's a one time experience." He says, more to convince himself this was a one time experience and that it'll be over before he knows it. That it'll be short, it'll be not painful.
"Jokes on you, I'm already calling you a little bitch and a coward even if you don't back out." Mu Qing pops a bubble gum in his mouth, casually wearing his black gloves as he sits on the chair just beside the one Feng Xin's sitting on. "So, are you in this or not?"
"I just said that I am." Feng Xin snaps, all the adrenaline and his churning nerves making him feel so mad at anything coming his way. "Just hurry up."
"We didn't even discuss what tattoo you're getting." Mu Qing rolls his eyes, pulling out a notepad and a pencil. A bit of stress left Feng Xin upon realizing he would be able to watch the silverette sketch something in person after seeing all those fabulous art works in his twitter profile. It's an honor to see him draw. "So, prefer animals? A dog? Or out of things that breathes?"
"Out of things that breathes. More leaning on to objects." Feng Xin answers lamely as Mu Qing nods, flipping through his notepad. "Not something common either."
"Hm." The silverette eyes him again, more with narrowed eyes as if he could pull out a specific answer by observing how Feng Xin sat. "Are you into sports?"
"Oh, he's into archery!" Xie Lian points out way too eagerly after merely sitting quietly on the floor. "He's into bows and arrows!"
"Bows and arrows..." Mu Qing flips through five pages. "Yeah, I've drawn those before." He turns the notepad around. Showing about five sketches of bows and arrows. One was a pair; a black bow and white bow pair that formed a cross. Another was just a normal bow angled to the side. The rest were beautiful, and while they are what Feng Xin has in his mind, it wasn't quite right. Especially if he knew the silverette drew this for other people. "It's not going to burn even if you stare at it like that."
"Oh shut up." Feng Xin huffs, averting his gaze before he blinks. "Bow and arrow are good but... do you have a different sketch or something similar?"
"You want a different design."
Feng Xin wasn't much good with words, anyway. "Yes."
The silverette mutely turns his notepad back toward him, "Can your brain be creative enough to actually tell me what you want or you're one of those guys that 'wings it out' and see the result by the end and get mad when it's something they didn't want?" He arches a brow, and Feng Xin might or might not have stared at his face in absolute stupor for a few seconds before he clears his throat.
"I - uh, I guess... I don't know." He really doesn't. If he couls, he'd pity himself for putting himself in this kind of situation. "I just wing it, but I won't get mad-"
"Tsk. Typical."
"Hey!"
"This is the first sketch." Amidst his stammering, Mu Qing had already casually drawn a simple bow with an arrow twirled around it, the bow string "snapped" broken. It was a long bow, the arrow having a rusty looking arrowhead, or probably because it was drawn with messy lines. "Like it or hate it?"
"Love it." Feng Xin replies quietly, a bit disappointed he was not able to watch the silverette draw it. "I want it."
"Alright." He stands, Feng Xin blinking up at him in confusion. Mu Qing rolls his eyes, "I'm going to fix it and have it printed for easier tracing."
"Oh." He doesn't know why he worried a bit. Feng Xin relaxes once the silverette was gone once more as he releases a breath he hadn't know he had been holding. "Oh shit."
Xie Lian looks up at him. "What?"
"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Feng Xin frowns. "But oh shit. I don't know where to put the tattoo." He brushes a hand through his face, helplessly laughing pathetically at himself. "I can't do arms or hands. I don't even know if the hospital allows tattoos. Not somewhere where it could be seen."
"I believe neck and spine hurts the most?" Xie Lian dusts himself off upon standing up, sitting on one of the costumer's chairs instead. "Or just anywhere relatively sensitive. You could do leg?"
"Oh god, no."
"Why not?"
First, Feng Xin doesn't want to pull down his pants in front of the silverette. Second, it's a bit cold, he doesn't want to suddenly have a boner or some embarrassing shit. Third, he... he just doesn't want to, okay? That's a perfectly reasonable excuse.
"Mm-mm." He shakes his head. Slouching on the chair just as Mu Qing enters back into the room with different sizes of the temporary tattoo of a cleaner version of his sketch. "I could do back? Or chest?"
"Pick a size." Mu Qing lazily throws the stickers on the tray where the rest of his things were. Fortunately, a needle wasn't seen. "Anything. And where you want it to be."
Xie Lian picks the smallest one. "Since you're not really sure which body part you want the tattoo to be, then why not start sm-"
"I want the biggest one."
"..."
"Feng Xin." Xie Lian sighs in spite of picking up the largest size. Almost as big as Feng Xin's hand. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes." He's not. "I'm sure." He's regretting even thinking about taking a break from being a physical therapist. Maybe he needs a therapy himself. "Just get it over with."
"Mu Qing, where's the most less painful part one can get a tattoo?" Xie Lian was beginning to be the concerned part of Feng Xin. Acting as the voice of his head with how he's worrying much more than the costumer. "Does the back hurt?"
"The spine will hurt. Somewhere that isn't sensitive in terms of nerves will not." Mu Qing fills up a small plastic cup with ink, unbeknownst to the horror terrorising Feng Xin's mind with each drop that falls into the cup. "Arms, outer thighs, some parts of the neck and back. Which part of the back?"
"Uh-" Feng Xin swallows thickly. "Shoulder blade? Upper left of my back?"
Mu Qing pulls the elastic band of the glove with a sinister smirk.
"Let's begin, shall we?"
━━༻••༺━━
"A-ah!"
"Ngghn wait - f-fuck."
"Shitshitshit - ah!"
"Ahn - hnggn... h-haaah-"
Feng Xin grips the end of the table, knuckles white, eyes brimming with tears, breath heavy. He was half naked, given how he had requested the large ass tattoo on his back. Lying down on the table of another, more private room.
"W-wait - shit - wait!" He cries, voice raspy with how much he's been moaning and groaning with how it fucking hurts. It was as though someone decided to be a bitch and began puncturing his skin with nail until it bled. This was not what he expected.
He was quite proud of himself for having a high pain tolerance, but he guesses that having a tattoo was a way for the world to humble him real quick.
Mu Qing paused, lifting up the tattoo gun as Feng Xin takes deep, deep breaths for his dear life. He's all sweaty, the silverette needed to constantly wipe his skin for it to stay dry. Even massaging where his shoulder and neck met for him to relax and release a bit of tension.
Feng Xin groans out loud. "How long will it take now?!"
"About... three hours or more." Mu Qing checks his progress, hands shaking. "I put more details, and you chose a size that'll take you more than just minutes."
"Ah fuck." Feng Xin carelessly hangs his head on the edge of the table as he releases a tired sigh. "Just... just be gentle."
"Yeah - I think we need a break." Mu Qing puts the tattoo gun down. Removing his gloves as he stands, all within a blink. "You can move, but don't move too much. Or you can and ruin everything and we have to start all over again. Your choice-"
"Why do we need a bre-"
"We need a fucking break." He leaves before Feng Xin could press some more. Abruptly bumping into Xie Lian that just came back from a call with his boyfriend. "Go - go comfort him or some shit."
"Are you done?" Xie Lian's eyes were wide. "Why? What happened?"
"I don't know!"
Xie Lian helplessly watches as Mu Qing literally sprints toward the bathroom as though his life depended on it. Confused as to why his pale face was red, he enters through the door to see Feng Xin slowly sitting up with a wince.
Hastily removing his mask, Mu Qing splashes cold water on his face. For once, thankful that the water from the faucet comes out as ice colder than the northern pole as he splashes his face over and over again until the now blurry mirror had shown it wasn't as red as he entered. Now a soft hue of pink as he curses under his breath and loosens the belt of his pants a bit, relieving some of the tension of his lower body.
The sounds the man was making were obscene. The worst he'd experienced as a tattoo artist of three years. One of the worst (and best) sounds he'd heard over the course of months he'd been having clients.
And it's from the most stupidest – handsome – man he's seen yet. He lets out a stupid laugh. Laughing more at how he got a boner from moans of pain he's causing, and how stupidly humiliating it is if anyone ever knew about this.
He hits the sink with his clenched fist, wiping his face with his shirt as he glares at himself.
"Get a fucking grip." He hisses, "Get a damn grip. Who is he? A stranger. Why is he here? Because Xie Lian brought him here. He's nothing but a costumer now. Why are you so flustered about this? This is nothing. This is supposed to he professional - why the fuck are you hard over that kind of thing? You're not even into pain kink!"
He takes a few more moments to breathe. To regain his composure and vaguely wonder why he's talking to himself in the mirror.
Five more seconds and he's out of the door, looking as calm as ever as though he did not just almost gash himself.
"Feng Xin is walking around, is that supposed to be okay?" Xie Lian's brows were furrowed, standing by the closed door of the private room. "He says it's what he does and advices to his patients if they ever feel any discomfort to make sure they know what part of their body really hurts, and to ease them up."
Mu Qing rolls his eyes, his mask fortunately covering his cheeks as he throws open the door to see the man sitting on the table innocently. "What is "too much" for you? Walking around? Really?"
"It helps with the burning sensation." Feng Xin frowns, his own face a bit pink as well as he goes back to his original position. Laying on his chest as the tattoo that wasn't even half way done made Mu Qing realized that fuck, he'll have to endure a whole hours of listening to those noises.
And fuck because he finds it oddly sexy.
He had just met this man for not even two hours and now he's somehow have heard how he'd sound when getting to it.
He sighs, slowly walking toward his own chair as he uses his gloves once more and tests the tattoo gun before getting comfortable.
It may seem a bit strange and weird, but once Xie Lian goes back to speaking with his stupid boyfriend and leaving them alone again, he can't help but fill a sense of filled satisfaction that he could pleasantly listen to the noises without someone seeing his face.
And if the tattoo finishes up way too later than necessary, well, no one can blame him.
He's just doing his work as perfect as it should be.