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mmvalentine · 3 years

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The Bargain Pt 4 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Feyre’s last session was on a Thursday evening, Rhys’ last appointment of the day. And she was running very late.

Feyre rushed down the street, trying to scrape her hair back into some semblance of presentability, and narrowly dodged bowling an old man over in the street. She skidded to a halt outside the tattoo shop, spared just one glance at her reflection in the glass and then swept in. Despite noticing with horror the dark circles under her eyes.

She stood in the doorway, and watched Rhys look up from where he was sitting and sketching, probably startled by the clanging she was making by bursting through the door like this. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to him, still panting slightly. “I know I’m unacceptably late. Do you still have time to finish my tattoo?” Rhys put down his pen. "Of course," he said. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Feyre said, looking away and self-consciously tugging on her dishevelled shirt. "I... got caught up at home, I'm really sorry." "That's okay," Rhys said. "Come on in."

They set up like usual, and soon Rhys was putting the finishing touches on Feyre's arm. She lay there and stared at the ceiling, Tamlin’s latest temper tantrum reeling through her head and still pounding in her ears. And this time, she barely felt the needles at all. She could hear the machines buzzing but the pain seemed very, very far away.

In all honesty, she was glad of a little pain today. Morbid as it may seem, her insides were churning so hard, the sharp physical sensation actually made more sense than the hurt and confusion that she felt every time Tamlin lost his cool. How strange, that being tattooed today seemed like just what she needed.

So she let Rhys finish the shading around her wrist, add dot work, and highlight in white, and just lay quietly. Better than opening her mouth and letting Rhys see what a mess she really was.

But Rhys seemed to notice anyway. He kept glancing up at her, as if waiting for her to resume their usual chatter. After about half an hour, he spoke.

"You know I'm really glad you're here," he said. "All day I've been tattooing this guy who just won't stop singing." It took a moment to filter through, but Feyre had to admit she was intrigued. Rhys went on, speaking quickly as if trying to fill the silence.

"Yeah, he's carrying on and on and even giving tips to Mor- she's one of the artists here, who's in a band. So he's telling her all these things about performing and vocals. Thing is, he's absolutely shite."

Feyre looked at him. Was Rhys… babbling?

"I had to make sure I talked to him the whole time, because if I stopped talking he started singing." Feyre snorted and Rhys smiled to himself.

"So here I am, trying to concentrate and tattoo as fast as I can, and trying to come up with lengthy topics of conversation before one of the guys comes over to murder me." "What did you talk about?" Feyre asked him. "Jellyfish," Rhys told her. "Jellyfish?!" "Yeah I've been listening to podcasts about ocean life and it's all I could think of at the time." "Okay," Feyre said. "Hit me with some jellyfish facts."

"Did you know," Rhys said, "that there is a species of jellyfish that never dies. It's got two life stages, sort of like you know insects have a larval stage, but it just shifts back and forth from one to the other indefinitely." "So it's immortal?" "Yeah, basically. Another species can glom onto each other and form a mega jellyfish, where like there will be a mouth jelly and an excretion jelly and all that but they're just one big jelly now." "Woah like hivemind jellyfish?" "Sure, except jellyfish don't have brains." "That's crazy." "Uh huh."

Rhys let Feyre ponder jellyfish facts while he went back up her arm checking for bits he had missed. Found a spot that would be shaded darker, and started on that bit. The needle bit into her skin with a whine.

"Hey," he said tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Feyre sighed inwardly, and wished fervently that she was the kind of girl that could make a guy laugh, and not worry.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she answered. "I'm so sorry I was late today. Looks like everyone else has pretty much packed up for the day and you're staying late because of me." Indeed the last artist had left the space ten minutes ago, and they were now alone.

"Well, actually," Rhys said, "I'm just about done here. Just have to finish up this bit... and we're finished." He sat up straight, put the machine down and wiped her down. Then he stretched in his seat while Feyre stared at her arm, turning it this way and that. A whorl of night sky and dreaming stared back at her, and for a moment she forgot Tamlin altogether.

"Rhys," she said, "this is incredible. Thank you so much. I…I love it." Loved the way it looked on her, actually. She had never been particularly fond of her own body, and couldn’t stop staring down at herself.

"You're very welcome. If you want, you can go look in the mirror and see then whole effect before I wrap you up."

So Feyre slid off the bench and skipped over to the full length mirror by the wall, and Rhys chuckled as he started packing his area down. She took in her reflection, this time bypassing her tired face completely and just seeing the ink in her skin. She had had the tattoo for months now, but it hadn't prepared her for what the finished product would look like. It looked like... like herself.

When she came back, Rhys wrapped her arm she paid the remainder owing. And then all that was left to do was leave. Go home. To Tamlin.

She stood on the spot, with one ankle turned out and her bottom lip between her teeth. Rhys paused.

"You don't want to go home, do you?" he asked her. And she looked up at him, and his searching, violet eyes, and couldn’t lie to him. She shook her head.

Rhys nodded. Looked around the empty studio, and then said, "Okay. Well I'll need another twenty minutes to finishing break down, and then I will tell you the rest of the jellyfish facts I know before you go. Deal?"

Relief slid into her veins. "Deal."

So she sat a stool in the corner of the studio while Rhys pottered about, putting things away and sanitising his station. Then when he was done, he pulled up another stool and sat opposite her, and told her everything he knew about scyphozoa while she picked through his sharpies and drew pictures in the blank spaces on his left forearm. It was only fair, she had said, since he had inked hers. He even had her sign the work, just below the heel of his palm.

"I'll get it tattooed," he said, "and then when you're world-famous I'll be a collectible item." Feyre laughed. "Okay, well then I'll give you a nice artistic autograph so you don't have to have some random girl's name tattooed on you." She scribbled her signature, and Rhys turned his wrist around to read it. "Oh so by artistic you mean illegible," he said. “Wouldn't want to upset any love interests," Feyre said, "I can't fight for shit." Rhys laughed. "Well there's no one to fight, but thanks for your thoughtful consideration."

They smiled at each other for a minute, until Feyre’s heart squeezed painfully and she forced herself to stand. "I should go," she said. Rhys took his markers back, and walked Feyre to the door.

And yet still, she couldn’t quite walk out.

"So, I guess this is it," Feyre said. "Thank you for everything." She lingered. "You know, I still think we could be good friends, you and I."

Rhys put his hands on the top of the door frame and leaned against it. The hard muscles of his triceps and forearms framed his face, and the light from the shop spilled around him.

"I'll make you a bargain Feyre," he said. "When you're getting tattooed you're really vulnerable and it can be easy to latch on to people who make you feel safe. So, give it six months, and if you still want to be my friend, I would love that. Okay?"

Feyre nodded. "Okay."

She turned to go, but before she did, Rhys reached out one last question.

"Feyre?" She turned. "Are you going to be alright?"

And Feyre put on her very best smile, smoothed it over her face like lipstick, and tried to photograph him, there in the doorway, in her mind.

"I'll be alright," she told him. And she waved and walked home.

****

This is based on actual conversations that I had with my tattoo artist recently, and he assures me all of those jellyfish facts are true. Mind blowing stuff.

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