Chapter Text
He’s wondering the same streets he has always wondered but this time it’s different. This time, he doesn’t know where does he exactly is. This time, he feels lost -no, this time he is lost. Overwhelmed by the pain beating in his chest, he opens the blue door. People, music, darkness and, at the same time, color lights everywhere. Definitely, not his TARDIS.
The loud music makes his head ache and he feels the pain growing inside him.
“Oi! Do you want something or not?” The bartender, young and ginger, is waiting for his response but he cannot articulate a single word. The ginger seems to understand his expression and just smiles knowingly while he serves him. “Drink it at once, mate. Don’t be shy.”
And he does drink it at once. And he feels the pain growing inside him, again. At first, the flames choke his throat and then whatever he was trying to push inside him starts to flare up in his stomach. The music is louder, the space gets smaller, there’s too much people. People dancing, people drinking, people touching him, people pushing him, people laughing, people, people and more people. There’s no more air for him, the earth spins quicker every time, his head aches even more. His blue door -no, not his-, the blue door opens and he runs through it.
The cold air of the night makes him shiver and his leather jacket doesn’t seem to be of any help. He’s lost again in the darkness of the night, the cold air embracing him, feeling that maybe that blue door wasn’t such a bad option. But he keeps walking anyways, alone, hopeless, consumed. Consumed because it’s all his fault. His and only his. Not a single part to share and for once he’s not so sure he can carry all that by himself. It’s his fault and because of that he no longer feels like a doctor. Maybe a traitor, definitely a coward and a murderer, even a very drunk timelord, but not for a second the doctor.
There’s a light at the end of the street and he thinks that walking towards it is cruelly ironic. Cruel because every step he walks knocks his head like a hammer -he’s starting to think that maybe aliens are not meant to drink alcohol, or maybe it’s just him; and ironic because he doesn’t deserve a light at the end of his personal tunnel but he keeps walking towards it anyways. Selfish bastard…
And although he cannot die (at least not yet), he’s well aware that he can feel all the pain from the universe in his very bones. And it might be the reason why when he reaches the light and sees a tattoo shop, he has already decided to go in even though he’s still trying to process what he’s doing. And perhaps that could be the reason why when the artist asks him how can she help him, he catches himself writing in a white sheet. And absolutely that’s the reason why as soon as he finishes his design, he’s surprised by his voice breaking out a “right here, please”.
For a moment he forgets the pain and feels funny about himself. He’s got to live more (much more) than five hundreds years to get drunk enough to get a tattoo. So human -and stupid, very stupid. Unbelievable, but he lets himself laugh at the absurdity of everything. The absurdity of a no-more-than-21-years-old girl asking if he’s sure about his tattoo, some kid asking about the idea behind his drawing, he laughing uncontrollably because only he would be able to get drunk with just one drink and laughing even more because he cannot find the courage to tell that kid that it’s not a drawing but a text in gallifreyan -actually, a number that he will never be able to forget.