Chapter Text
"Fuck you!" Barty slurred, trying to right himself as he wiped the little bit of blood off his lip.
He stumbled out of, or rather, was forcibly removed from the pub he had spent the last few hours, drowning his sorrows until they turned into anger, and he got into a small fight with some guy who bumped into him on his way to get another drink. He turned around to flip them a finger right before the door closed. Barty scoffed. He didn't want to be there anymore anyway.
Stupid pub. Stupid job. Stupid fucking ex-boyfriend. Why did he care so much anyway? It's not like they ever did anything for him anyway. He was better off without them.
Barty stumbled down the street, tripping over his feet every couple of feet. He turned and glared at the ground that dared to be in his way, his vision blurring, but only slightly. He was still sane enough, not that his father hadn't tried his hardest to beat him into insanity. No, he was still sane enough, despite his inebriated and sluggish brain, to make far worse decisions than they claimed he was capable of.
"It's just not going to work anymore," Brian, his now ex-boyfriend, said when Barty went to his house after he had been fired from his job. What kind of name was Brian anyway? It sounds like a name that would belong to some suburban dad in bum fuck nowhere, with his trousers pulled all the way up as he tried to make small talk with the children at the street party. "I refuse to pick up after another one of your bad decisions. You really need to take a hard look at your life, Barty, and figure out where it all seemed to go wrong and turned into bad decision after bad decision."
Barty ducked into an alley to heave up the alcohol that swished around his intestines from his walking and definitely not from the last conversation he had with his ex. He wiped his mouth, spitting the last of the bile on the ground before continuing down the street. He had no clue where he was going or what he was looking for, or if he was even looking for anything. That was until he tripped again and fell into a rubbish bin, and when he looked up, he saw it.
The familiar glow of the sign outside of a tattoo parlour. It was calling to him, pulling him in as if an invisible string was wrapped around his waist. It was a new one that he hadn't been to yet, but that certainly wouldn't stop him from going in. He didn't care if it turned out to be the sketchiest shop in town. He was getting a tattoo.
"You wanna see a bad decision, Brian?" he spat the name as if it tasted of acid on his tongue, "I'll show you a bad decision."
Barty grabbed the handle of the door, swaying only slightly, and opened it. He walked into the lobby, half expecting to be kicked out as soon as they saw his current state. Straightening his back and trying to appear sober, he walked up to the counter and hit the bell. Barty hiccuped, swallowing back the bile that threatened to breach his lips as he blinked his eyes a couple of times to somehow make them appear less bloodshot. It took a few minutes, or maybe it was seconds; he didn't know, as time seemed to warp around him. Either way, someone walked out of the back room, and Barty froze.
"Can I help you?" the bespeckled man, no, not man, pure sex on a stick, asked with a welcoming smile.
"God, you're beautiful," Barty mumbled, staring up at the man, his inhibitions completely leaving him.
The guy chuckled and raked his eyes up and down Barty's frame. He rested his elbows on the counter as he leaned a little closer to Barty, flashing him a smile that made his heartbeat pick up as his stomach flipped.
"You're not so bad yourself, love," the sex stick remarked in a low whisper, winking before standing back up. "That aside, can I get you a bottle of water or something? You seem a little unsteady on your feet."
"No," Barty shook his head, the movement making him sway even more. "No, I'm not. I want a tattoo," he slurred, his words coming out in a jumble.
The guy looked at him for a second before coming around the counter, resting a hand on Barty's elbow. Barty stared at it for a second, then looked up and blinked slowly at the guy, trying to force his brain to interpret what it meant.
"Ooo, are you taking me to bed?" Barty asked with a giggle as he leaned into the guy.
"I wouldn't say no to that in the future," he replied with a flirtatious smile, "but right now, I'm gonna have you sit down before you keel over in my lobby." Barty nodded without telling himself to, and then he was sitting in a chair over to the side of the lobby. "Marls, can you grab me a water?" the bespeckled man called into the parlour, and a blonde appeared a few moments later, handing a bottle of water to him. She said something, but Barty didn't hear it. "Thanks." The guy turned back to Barty with a gentle smile as he handed it to him. "I'm James, by the way. What's your name?"
Barty blinked once, twice, three times before he realised the guy, James, – such a perfect name for the perfect guy in front of him –, was talking to him.
"B-Barty," he slurred.
"Well, Barty, as much as I hate to turn away business, I can't with a clear conscience give you a tattoo in your current level of intoxication." Barty pouted. He'd actually forgotten why he was there once he saw the g–James. "I can," James continued, "however, offer you a place to sober up for a bit and then give you a ride home after I close up shop."
"To your house?" Barty perked up.
"No, your house," he clarified, and Barty pouted again. "And when you are sober and have a clear head on your shoulders," James patted him on the shoulders, "if you still want that tattoo, you can come back in and I'll do it."
"Why are you being nice to me?" Barty asked, the words falling out of his mouth without his permission as he closed his eyes in a long blink, swaying a little and almost falling out of the chair.
James caught him by the arm before he fell and opened the bottle of water for him to take a sip when he was firmly in the chair again.
"Because everybody deserves someone to be nice to them," he said simply.
Barty leaned back in the chair and thought about that as he took a drink, missing his mouth on the first try, but getting it on the second. It sounded so simple, but nothing in Barty's life had ever been simple. Could he have been overcomplicating things his entire life?
"Sound like a plan?" Barty nodded, and James stood up, patting him on the knee. "Okay, I'll be over here. Holler if you need anything."
James walked back over to the counter where the blonde was standing behind it and had a conversation that Barty couldn't hear, but knew that it was about him. James kept pointing to him, and the girl glanced over every few seconds, nodding her head. Eventually, James went back behind the counter, and the girl handed Barty something to eat and a cup of coffee, claiming it would help him sober up before she disappeared behind the counter too. Barty sat there as his thoughts took over.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad decision to come in here after all.