etrelibre | [OPEN] "You're still a part of everything I do, you're on my heart just like a tattoo..."

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[OPEN] "You're still a part of everything I do, you're on my heart just like a tattoo..."

Who? Derrick Reynolds and open
Where? Shock Wave Tattoos
Time of day: Early afternoon
Open or closed: Open (multiple taggers welcome, we can just say that they came one after the other)

It was just after lunch time, and if he were honest, there was a part of Derrick that wanted to shut down early today and go back to his room and get some sleep. He was really full from lunch, and the overwhelming urge in his brain was to lock up shop, get back to his place, smoke up, and sleep for eight or ten hours. He was still recovering from his last trip to Hors de Prix a couple days before when he hadn't slept a fucking wink the whole night, just getting drunker and more high the whole time. Most people insisted that drinking and smoking weed were a bad mix, but Derrick had never had any trouble with it himself. Then again, intoxicating substances were a bit like mother's milk... almost literally, considering who his birth mother was. And the fact that he didn't do anything harder than weed or alcohol these days was a miracle in itself.

But, no. He wouldn't close the shop down early. Sleep would have to come later, whether he liked it or not. Sleep and that bag he'd bought from Silas earlier in the week. Yeah, that definitely sounded like more of a plan than staying around and working, but hey... A man had to eat, and that tended to require work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kurt had to seriously kick his smoking habit he had picked up in the last year or so whenever he got stressed. He used to despise the horrible stuff, but when the island started to feel claustrophobic, despite its size, a guy had to do what a guy had to do. He was standing outside of the tattoo parlour, finishing off his cigarette. It was sitting loosely between his fingers as he nibbled on the corner of his thumb nail, looking up at the sign over the shop door. He did want to do this, he was just scared it was going to hurt. It couldn't hurt more than his heart had over the last few days, though.

He took the last few puffs on his smoke and then stubbed it out on the brick wall beside the door, flicking the butt into the gutter. When he went inside, a little bell tinkled and Kurt's heeled boots clicked on the floor. As always, he was dressed and style immaculately, something he had to force himself into that morning after days of misery in nothing but sweats and an a well-worn t-shirt. If he couldn't feel good, he at least had to look good. Or fabulous. He knew he looked fabulous, he just didn't feel it. As the islands main fashion designer, he could never go out in public looking awful.

He cleared his throat pointedly, not wanting to be kept waiting in case he lost his resolve and ran. He wanted this. "Excuse me, I require your services," he said primly to the person near the counter. Oh great, now it sounded like he was trying to pay for a blow job or something... which he definitely was not.

Edited 2012-08-11 14:08 (UTC)

Derrick had just been contemplating stepping outside for a cigarette of his own, and was fumbling around under the counter, trying to remember where he left his pack, when the bell at the door sounded, letting him know that he had a customer.

He was still fumbling around... surely the person could wait for him to find his smokes, until the customer cleared his throat to get his attention. The cigarettes forgotten, Derrick stood up straight again, his eyebrow raising in mild surprise and amusement to see Etre Libre's resident fashionplate standing at his counter. Just like always, dressed to the nines... Or was it tens? Derrick wasn't the best with cliches, especially the ones about fashion, as evidenced by the wifebeater and worn jeans he was wearing.

"Hey, man, how's it going?" he asked, in his usual friendly and easygoing manner, until Kurt's prissy announcement had him even more amused. His thought process was much along the same lines as Kurt's... It sounded very much like a proposition for a hooker, and Derrick couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. "I'm... I'm flattered, buddy, but that's not really my line of work..."

"That's not what I meant!" Kurt snapped angrily when the remark poked right into all his sensitive and gaping emotional wounds that were pried open right now. "I don't want you, I don't want anyone! I'm married!" His voice got a little shrill in his defensiveness and he could feel his blood pressure rising. So, he stopped, forcing himself to take a few breaths to regain his composure while he wet his lips and let his hands rest delicately on his hip. After a moment, he rubbed at his forehead trying to push away some of the stress and he cleared his throat to try again.

There was a little wave of his fingers, gesturing the interior of the shop which had designs all over the walls. "This. Are you good at what you do?" he asked, keeping his distance for the moment while he sized the guy up for a moment. If he was going to let him touch him and sticking sharp objects into him, he wanted to know what he was playing at. Hopefully he had had a bath in the last couple of days. "You... use antiseptic, right? And wash your hands? Those jeans are about a size and a half too big for you... and you should wear bootleg. It's better for your height. Less chance of sagging around the buttocks."

"Whoa!" Derrick replied, putting both hands up in front of him to stop the angry tirade coming at him. For a moment, he wasn't sure he wasn't going to end up getting bitchslapped. "It's okay, man. I was kidding... It just... Sorry, the way you worded that, it was just... Nevermind. What can I do for you?"

Following Kurt's hand's motion, Derrick nodded. "Yeah... I'm good at it," he said with a shrug. "Would you like to see my portfolio before you let me ink you? I usually suggest that to clients anyway. Just because I'm good doesn't mean that my style will suit your taste..." And then Kurt was off at him about his pants and his hands and antiseptic, and Derrick was shaking his head. Obviously his clothing wasn't Kurt's style, but that said nothing of his tattooing skill. "Of course I use antiseptic, dude. I'm not an amateur, and I sure as hell don't want anyone getting an infection. I wash my hands and I use gloves. You're gonna be safe." Still, he couldn't help laughing as he looked down at his jeans. They were belted at the waist, but sagging and loose, and he could almost physically feel the judgment rolling off his client. With a shrug, he reached under the counter again, pulling out a binder full of photos and handing them off to Kurt. "Check out some of my work if you want."

Kurt took a few more tentative steps into the place. He knew he wanted to do this, and the guy was the only tattooist on the island. Kurt was just going to have to like his style or lump it, because he wasn't going to let some dodgy amateur offer him their services in a back street or something. The island was a community, and with every community came your shady types, or the island wouldn't have it's own police service. When he stepped up closer to the guy to take a look at some of the photos, he was soon eyeing him suspiciously, eyebrow raised a little. "You have weed. Give me some." Normally he wouldn't indulge, but after the week he was having, and the fact he was about to let this gut stick him with needles, he didn't think a bit of substance assistance would hurt.

"Can you do two at once? I mean, not two at the same time, but one after the other? It's just words I want," he explained, even if he was leafing through the binder anyway. He didn't even know tattoos had specific styles. Fashion had styles. To Kurt, these just looked like any other tattoos you could get anywhere else. Anywhere else but the island. Where Blaine wasn't. "I want one on the back of my hand and one on my chest, over my heart."

The fact was, Derrick was trying to roll out the red carpet so to speak for the very fashionable customer in front of him. He knew who Kurt was through friends of friends so to speak, but he'd never expected to see him rocking up into his tattoo parlor. Nor had he expected said fashionista to ask him for weed. Weed, he might add, that he hadn't smoked in the shop in nearly a week, but the smell did tend to hang around. Tilting his head to one side, he offered Kurt a half-smile. "You got a hell of a nose, but you're better dressed than a bloodhound," he joked, reaching into his pocket for the small bag in his pocket of what was left from his last pickup from Silas. Reaching under the counter, he retrieved a pack of wraps and handed one off to Kurt. "You know how to roll it, right?"

It was clear that more laughter on Derrick's part wasn't really welcome, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He nodded quickly. "Yeah, two's fine. As long as you can take it all at once. Some people don't do well with it and can only do a little bit at a time. It depends on how big you want the words. I've got a lot of different fonts in there too if you want to pick what you want. What are the words you want?"

Kurt had resorted to alcohol and weed early on in his stay on the island. He had met Silas pretty much the day after he got out of hospital on the island and had the stuff offered to him to help him through the shock. He had a good business going, that guy. Kurt hadn't been able to say no because he wanted to switch off the pain of not having Blaine. "How exactly do bloodhounds dress?" he had to ask as he took one a couple of the tissues from the box for customers and laid it out on the counter to dump the weed and wraps out on it. Well, who knew who had touched that counter? He started to expertly roll the joint, and lit it like a pro too, holding it delicately between his finger and thumb to take the first puff.

He blew the smoke out in a slow stream before continuing again. "I've been to hell and back. Pain's old school. Pretty sure I need it right now to drown out... other things. But I have sensitive skin, can I see your antiseptic?" He held out his hand, back up, sort of looking like he was waiting for the guy to kiss it, only not in the slightest. "Courage." Then he pointed to his chest. "A name and a date. Nothing too big, I want it classy and elegant. Nothing tacky. I don't do tack." Of course, it wasn't helping when he saw a pack of Juicy Fruit lying on the counter near the register and it reminded him of Blaine's promise ring in senior year, and he nearly promptly burst into tears from it. But he caught himself, held his composure with a few blinks and keeping his lips pressed firmly together.

It was a valid question, given the randomness of Derrick's statement, and the tattoo artist just shrugged. "Head to toe in fur... Generally frowned upon for humans to rock that look these days. You know, PETA and all that. They don't really rock PETA on the island or anything, surprisingly enough." He watched as Kurt rolled the joint, raising his eyebrows in surprise at the pristine gay queen perfectly rolling and lighting a joint that Cheech and Chong would've been proud of.

"That works, then," Derrick replied, reaching under the counter again for the antiseptic to hand Kurt the bottle. "We actually use hypoallergenic everything. We wouldn't want anymore discomfort than necessary." Glancing over at the book of fonts, he pointed out one to Kurt, a tasteful script that he thought looked like something the guy might be okay with. "What about this one?"

"How do you explain the phenomenon that is bear fetishes then?" Kurt asked in return through another exhalation of smoke from the joint. He paused, lightly wetting his lips as he watched the end of it burning for a moment. Would he have ever started trying to use substances like this if Blaine had come with him to the island? Probably not. It was always the pain related to Blaine that he was trying to drown out when he resorted to it. "Animal cruelty is a imprisoning offence here on the island because of all its native wildlife. As it should be. Not that I'm a huge fan of being anywhere close to animals."

He studied the antiseptic for a moment and then slid it back across the counter with a nod. He felt his stomach flip over as he looked at the fonts and imagined it written in Blaine's name. But he shook his head at the one the guy was choosing. "It looks like it belongs on a tombstone. That won't do. Do you have the Disney font? Wait." He took his cell phone out for a moment and searched the island's equivalent of Google. It was restricted, but let through things that didn't show an awareness to the real world. He typed in what he wanted and the site did the work for him, so he handed it over for the guy to see what he wanted. "The top one. The date smaller and under the name."

"I don't really bother trying to explain fetishes," Derrick replied with a shrug. "They're kind of a personal thing, so there's really no point explaining them anyway. Everybody's got personal tastes and shit, you know? Some people think tats are gross and make you look cheap. I can't explain that either." Ordinarily, Derrick would've been first in line to get in on some puff-puff-pass action, but he wasn't going to tattoo this guy while high. He was pretty sure he'd be slapped with a lawsuit so fast it would make his head spin if he even tried. And besides that, there were few things in life Derrick took seriously, but his art was one of those things. "Well, yeah, but you know what I mean."

With a tilt of his head, Derrick examined the font, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what about it was tombstone-like. Then again, this wasn't his body he was about to ink (this time), and he kind of didn't really have a choice in the matter. Taking the phone from Kurt, he glanced over the font with a nod. "Yeah, that shouldn't be too hard to do," he said. "You want 'Courage' in the same font?" he asked, looking back up at Kurt's face. "Or something different for that one?"

Kurt's eyes were locked on the strips of script samples in front of him. He was lost in his own thoughts for a moment, the joint burning slowly between his fingers. "Can I add another one to the order? I still want the first two. A plain script for the one on my wrist, I don't care what. You recommend one you enjoy doing. But I wanted another one. It's small," he explained and the joint was rested down in a nearby ashtray so he could twist his wedding rings off his fingers. His engagement ring was about as blingy with diamonds as it could come, Blaine knowing him so well. His wedding ting thicker and more simple, an identical match to Blaine's. He gently and carefully placed the rings on top of the pages of the book. "I want 'Never saying goodbye' tattooed on my ring finger, in a band like a ring."

He picked up the joint for another quick puff, almost like he was using it to pluck up the balls to stick this out. It's what he wanted. It meant a hell of a lot to him and he was trusting the guy with something that was extremely private and personal to him, engulfed in a lot of pain. "I lost my husband when I came here. On my wedding day. And it doesn't look like he'll ever come here, but I'm stuck. I just... need this."

Derrick nodded with a small smile. "Of course you can, dude," he said. "They're small enough, I'll cover them all under the price of one." He nodded, picking out a font to show Kurt for the "Courage" tattoo as he listened to the rest of what Kurt had to say. Ring tattoos were tough, just because of the extremely small space, but he had done enough of them that it was no big deal.

Just as he was wondering where the other person was, considering that he very rarely did ring tattoos without both parties, generally doing it as a couple. But then Kurt was explaining, and Derrick nodded his understanding, such as it were for a guy like him. "I see. So this is really important to you... Trust me, dude... I'm going to take good care of your tattoos, and they're going to look great. I just need you to sign a couple papers here for my files, and I'll get some gloves on... Are you allergic to latex?"

Inking was such a permanent thing to Kurt. He wasn't sure why he hadn't done it sooner. Maybe he hadn't been ready to relent that waiting for Blaine could be a long and hard road... that might not lead anywhere. He was pretty sure that if Blaine never came, he would live out his days on the island alone, never experience all that amazing stuff that came with being in love again. No snuggles, no sex, no nice dates, sweet little gifts, hand-holding. All he ached to do was go for a walk along the beach with Blaine, holding his hand and enjoying the island together. But no matter how much he hoped for it, Blaine wouldn't come.

"It was just our two year anniversary. Well, for me, at least. Not accounting for the fucked in the island timing where everyone is from different places and times. If I had stayed back home and, you know, wasn't murdered on my wedding day, it would have been our two year anniversary. And honestly, I have no idea how else to honour that, so this seemed like a good idea. Everything else is so disposable and unimportant. Lighting candles, buying flowers, singing a song... it's all over when it's over." He gave a small laugh around the latest exhalation of smoke and shook his head. "No. Really, really not allergic to latex. Just haven't had a need for it in a long, long time."

Now that he knew the story, Derrick understood a lot better why Kurt kept himself so much at an arm's length. He wasn't just being a bitch. He was hurting... Hurting in a deep and painful way, and it was pretty clear to Derrick that he wasn't the type of person to just share his feelings with any random person. The farther he stayed away from people, the easier it would be to avoid having conversations with them about the painful circumstances of his arrival. The fact was, Derrick knew several people who'd come to the island while they died in the real world. It was never a pleasant thing, to find out that you could never go back to the world, and the life that you'd lived there, but in the end, sometimes that was just the way things went.

But Kurt's story went deeper than that. Murdered. Murdered on his goddamn wedding day, and ended up here without his husband. Derrick didn't really get into major relationships, but the thought of caring as much about someone as Kurt very clearly cared for Blaine, which apparently was the husband's name, definitely made an impact on him. "Wow. Yeah, inking is definitely a pretty serious, permanent deal. And not just saying this because I'm a tat artist, but... it's a pretty special way to keep someone close to you when they can't be. I have a couple tattoos like that myself. But if you're ready, you can just sign that paperwork there, and we'll go ahead and get started."

"I'm sorry I got all heavy on you. If ever there was something that can be claimed an awkward moment, it's that. You're a tattooist, not a therapist. You probably don't want to hear my bullshit relationship woes anymore than I want to hear the bullshit woes of breast enhancements and cheating husbands I get with my clients. At least, my some of my fashion clients. My clients at Aquatique are too busy trawling for dick to really have any woes..." Kurt said conversationally. He was never really backwards in coming forwards. He was modest and classy, but he would also tell it like it was. Being on the island, he had to grow up a lot. There was always that survival element to it, and the chance to do things you might have to fight tooth and nail for back home.

"Do you ever get people coming in to want inking who you really, really don't want to touch or don't think it's a good idea they do it? Like, fly by the seat of their pants ink requests of their one night stand's breasts on their penis or something? Do you even tattoo penises?" he suddenly asked, quirking an eyebrow then the concept just dawned on him. "I mean, I know beauty therapists have to wax balls and butts, but does your job go that intimate?"

"No worries," Derrick replied with a shrug. "You'd be surprised how many people open up to their tattoo artist. We're kinda like bartenders. You get used to it after a while. Keeps the job interesting at least, though. Honestly, I think it's pretty badass that I get to hear all these interesting stories about why people are getting tats. They're sort of the history of a person, you know?" It was true. Derrick wasn't close friends with clients as a general rule, so they generally felt safe in telling him things like their reasons for getting tattoos. And he wasn't close enough to get overly concerned, but still had the ability to be a damn good listener when it seemed a client really needed it. It meant that his job was never boring, and it tended to help keep his clients calm, too.

"Well, yeah," Derrick replied with a shrug. "But I'm also pretty serious about things staying clean around here, so if the person's not at least mostly clean, I don't ink them. It's an infection hazard, and I'm not going to have my license threatened by some asshole who won't bathe. And I don't do cocks or pussies. I'll get close, but I inked a guy's cock once and swore that was never happening again. The fact is, I'm lucky enough to run my own business, so I have the ability to decide what I will and won't do. It's pretty freeing, to be honest. But as far as thinking it's not a good idea? That's not really something I care all that much about. I have some crazy tats most people would've thought were a bad idea. I have one that's a curse in Irish Gaelic... I'm not even Irish, dude, but I thought the curse was funny. Some of my tats are more meaningful than others, but almost all of them have a story... So I don't really regret any of them."

Kurt's nose scrunched up a little at this as he imagined the tattoo chair like some sort of therapist couch with people from all walks of life pouring out their life's troubles as they got inked with designs to match their mood. He never meant to just be another sheep in the crowd. Maybe it was different because he had contemplated this for awhile, but once his mind was made up, he was more determined than ever to get it done. He cleared his throat and went back to the joint briefly while he had one of those moments where you wonder what the hell all of this with the island even was, and how surreal it felt. Kurt had no choice but to like it, though, because he was never going home and if he paused on that too long, the homesickness would set it. At the end of the day, here he was alive, back there he was dead. It was the only simplistic black and white reasoning that got him through surviving here without Blaine. "Do you have any significant others here on the island? Or someone you left back home? Or do you just listen rather than empathise?"

He shook his head. "I can't even imagine why anyone would want to shove a sharp needle near their dick anyway. Whatever floats your boat, I guess. Playing with people's dicks on a professional level doesn't sound appealing to me either, and I'm gay. I just cannot think of anything more of a turn-off than going down on a guy and discovering, like, his mother's name there or a design of a giant skull or something. That's just nasty. Plus, I can think of a few other words worse to have on your skin than an Irish curse. I'll just stick to these three, because honestly, my skin is so sensitive, it doesn't even sunburn properly."

Once Kurt's paperwork was signed, Derrick looked it over to make sure everything was in order before signing off himself, and directing Kurt off to a private room just off the main floor. He got the distinct feeling this was a very personal thing for Kurt, and that he probably wanted to be well out of sight of the front door. So he set up the most private of rooms to ink him. Setting out all of his tools of the trade on a table next to the chair where Kurt would be sitting, Derrick directed Kurt over to his seat. "Nah... I don't have a significant other. I mostly kind of rock the bar scene... Get drunk, find a chick, do my thing... Only downside is that they look a lot less hot when you're not drunk anymore. But I have had significant others in the past. It just never really works out for me and sex is easy enough. But my personal life... I kind of keep it personal usually. Not to be a dick, but just because... Well, because it's personal."

"You or me either one!" Derrick agreed with a firm nod. "I don't want a doctor near it with a needle, so why would I pay somebody just to poke my cock with needles? I don't even see how those dudes who get cock piercings do it. Oh, dude! Sick! What self respecting dude would get his mom's name tattooed on his junk? That'd disturbing! The curse is pretty fuckin' funny, and honestly, that't the only reason I got the tat. Because it made me laugh. Yeah... Don't worry, though. I'll make sure to take extra good care of your skin. I get the sensitive skin deal. My ex was the same way."

Kurt was a private person in general. He always had been. Sure, he knew how to get his sexy on when he performed, but he was generally very modest. The only person in the entire world who had seen him completely naked (besides his parents when he was tiny) was Blaine. He wore a lot of layers in his fashion choices, and since being on the island, he really didn't invited any sort of physical connection with anyone who weren't his closest friends. He might manage the gay bar, but he didn't indulge in any of the pleasures on offer there. There were many a time he got hit on until he punched a guy's lights out and it became a known fact that Kurt Hummel was hands-off 100%. No one tried after that. In fact, Kurt had a somewhat personal bodyguard at the club who ensured no one got into his private space. This was different, though, and he might barely know the guy, but he trusted him enough for this. Kurt sat down and made sure all his clothing was neat how it should be and then crossed his legs over at the ankles, getting comfortable. "Fair enough," was all Kurt said to that.

He fell quiet after that. Kurt wasn't going to talk anymore about his personal life if the guy wasn't going to offer anything in return. "I don't know anyone personally, but considering I was murdered, I'm full aware the world is full of fucked up people. I don't know what fucked up people like to have tattooed on themselves." And he wasn't touching the ex factor either, in case it was too personal.

Derrick usually wasn't much of a sharer, and ordinarily, he let people keep their business to themselves just as he did his own, if for no other reason than he knew what it was like to carry things inside and not want to share them. But there was something in the tone of Kurt's voice when he replied that made Derrick look at him for just a moment. It wasn't like Kurt knew anyone Derrick would've been concerned about hearing his business anyway, and if push came to shove, why would Kurt put Derrick's business out there when he'd shared quite a bit of his own with the tattoo artist? Kurt struck him as a person who had a lot of baggage, and probably needed to offload from time to time, and there was a realization that maybe, hearing just a little of Derrick's story might put him at his ease to continue his own. "Hey, man, we all got baggage," he said with a shrug. "Most of us wouldn't be here if not for that. I haven't had anybody who mattered to me on any romantic level in a long-ass time, because I got burned like hell when I was younger. Dated a chick who was older than me right out of high school, and moved in with her... I wanted a family and a life with her, but we were both young and stupid... We made young, stupid mistakes, and ended up in one hell of a fucked up mess. I have her name inked on me, dude. I thought it was the real deal."

"Well, yeah. That's for damn certain. I don't think I knew anybody who actually was murdered before... I wish there were something you could say to that, but I never been all that good with words anyway, dude. Sucks it happened, though. And I do really hope your man comes here. You seem like one of those guys who deserves it."

Kurt just eyed Derrick quietly for a moment, not even sure what it was that caused him to change his mind on his standoffish response. "Don't feel you have to force yourself to talk about your personal life for the sympathy vote. I might be a dead man walking, but my heart's still beating here on the island. Sure, it wasn't for five minutes and six seconds, but luckily the hospital has top notch technology and I managed to not drop dead here like I did back home. I might be a hard-assed bitch these days considering everything I have lost, and nowhere near the squishy gay fairy I was back home, but I can respect when someone doesn't want to talk about something. In saying that, did you knock her up or cheat on each other? Can't you get that shit removed, or are yo keeping it for nostalgia purposes? Do you have any cigarettes?"

He traced his tongue over his lips. "On some level, I sort of know where you're coming from. I nearly fucked everything up with Blaine and me right out of high school. Age and lack of worldly experience is one of the biggest demons to fight. And don't worry about it. It's not exactly the best topic of random conversation. 'Hi, I'm a murder victim and I bled to death in my new husband's arms. How's your day been?' But it is what it is, unfortunately. And now I'm here without my husband and all I have left is the ability to ink his name on my skin. Which is where you come in," he added with a small nod of appreciation.

"It's not really that," Derrick replied with a shrug. "It's more that it feels like you could use somebody with no judgment involved to offload to, and I'm okay with that. And I've never done a lot of offloading myself, so I figure we can sorta team effort that shit, you know? It's all good, though. You really don't have to share anything you don't want to. Some people just find that I'm a pretty easy dude to talk to." It ordinarily wasn't any concern of Derrick's whether people wanted to talk to him or not, but he got the distinct feeling that this guy really needed it, and he was willing to be an open ear for anyone. "I knocked her up... How'd you know? I don't believe in getting tattoos removed," he said with a carefree grin. "Tattoos are the stories in your life. For whatever reason, every tat you get was one you wanted at the time, so I keep all of mine." He paused at Kurt's question, patting his pockets until he came out with one. "Yep. Here... Might as well get your nerves settled."

Derrick nodded slowly. "Yeah. I was young and stupid and fucked it up permanently... You guys were some of the lucky few if you pulled through all of that. Most people don't. They tend to fuck it all to hell along the way. But hey... If nothing else, I can definitely get you inked up good." There was a friendly grin on his face, and honestly, for once, he felt like he was not only doing ink, but doing a good deed for someone."

Kurt just exhaled slowly and looked down at his lap. "More just the fact that I don't feel like offloading it. It's a pain I'm willing to walk around with for him, and talking about it doesn't change the situation. It's not going to give me the ability to miraculously make him arrive. My friends have all tried to make me talk over the time. I even tried therapy with the med centre, and lasted one session. The therapist was good, but it wasn't like she had magical island issues on her list of majors she studied at college. It's a different ball game here to what it is back home. If he was here, I wouldn't be miserable, basically. Dead or not. Then there is always the chance he might come from a time he doesn't even know me, or a time in the future where he has a whole bank of life knowledge I'm not privy to. Offloading doesn't really help that either. And I have a lot of female friends. I tend to identify with their issues better than mine. One of my closest friends and room mates got knocked up when she was sixteen and she thought it ruined her life. It took her a long time to regain self-confidence after that." His hand absent-mindedly touched his chest through his shirt where all the scars from the shooting were. "Kind of like scars..." he mused and took the cigarette gratefully.

"Did you get rid of the baby? Or did she lose it and that screwed up the relationship? Or she walked out and never let you see the child?" he asked. He didn't mean to interrogate, but if this was going to be tit-for-tat, then questions had to come. "He got me back by accidentally letting me think he cheated on me. We broke up briefly, but it turned out he was just with someone who was hitting on him online, but couldn't go through with anything and bolted. We sorted it out, of course. I used to think I understood the world and people so well. Then I got shot on my wedding day, and I guess I've lost a lot of value in everything. This place is going through the motions for me."

Derrick had to respect that about someone. It was hard to cop that much pain all on your own, but it was admirable to see him carrying on, despite how much he was clearly hurting. "That's fair enough, dude. And if it's your personal thing... which, clearly, it's your fuckin' husband, dude. That's gonna be something you can't explain to anybody or make anybody understand. The whole deal with the island time really fucks with everybody. I wonder sometimes if my ex'll show up from a time when we were together, and I'll just have to be all, 'Nah, I'm past that, thanks.' But yeah. Everybody here's got their issues, and they're not everybody's business, unless you need to share." Pausing as he watched Kurt, he nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just like scars. Except that these are the scars you choose for yourself."

"She decided to have an abortion and we split over it. It was nasty. Now I don't think it was the worst thing after all... But was a late term deal... We already knew what the baby was and were talking about names and shit. Then Chris changed her mind. But in the end, I think it was for the best. I don't live a life conducive to fatherhood, and having a kid would've probably ruined my life and the kid's. I'm a tat artist who likes drinking and smoking weed. Life kinda worked out." Pausing, he watched Kurt for a little bit. "Sounds like it was kind of always meant to be you two and karma screwed you over for some reason that you didn't really deserve."

As Kurt lit the cigarette up, his hands were shaky, especially to hear the reference to Blaine put to blatantly. This whole visit to the tattoo parlour was for Blaine but there was just something about the emphatic reference that kicked in his yearning for Blaine. He blew the first stream of smoke out and then had to bite down on the inside of his lip so he didn't start to cry. The tickle was in his throat and the tight feeling in his chest like he was going to, but he did manage to fight it off by remaining quiet and just listening to the guy talk. He knew it was the word 'husband' that got him every time because even though Blaine was his husband, they never had the chance to live it. That was the hardest part of all. "Do you think if, for some reason, a marriage couldn't be consummated that it lessons the value of it?" It was a deep question, and this guy wasn't the first he asked it of. It often played on Kurt's mind, but had many different opinions about it. "Maybe you should try for something new to help you make new memories and not just have them all-encompassing of her?"

He frowned a little, and then raised his eyebrows slowly. "My best friend who I live with here, she's had a baby when she was sixteen and gave her up for adoption. That can't have been an easy thing to go through. It's a little surreal to hear. But how do you cope not getting the pictures and that now? I mean, that communication would have ended with you coming here." He just put the smoke back to his lips and looked up at the ceiling. "I'll never know what I did to deserve it. But then, I spent a lot of my life having things taken from me or losing things. why not my husband and my life?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[OPEN] "You're still a part of everything I do, you're on my heart just like a tattoo..."

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