He said his name was Eren, and then he spelled it for me. E-R-E-N. I didn't ask why he felt the need to do that, I just figured it must have been his introductory default, or whatever. And I'm not sure why - I'm really not sure why - but it made me wonder how his first meeting with his ex-boyfriend must have gone down. Mispronunciations and misspellings galore, I imagine. That's true love right there.

After we exchanged names and not much else, he shot me a quick smile and excused himself. He had a class to get to and I had a tattoo shop to run. But before he left, he strolled up to the front counter where Hanji was still diligently looking over our plans for the day and penciled in a date for his first tattoo removal session. She suggested that he start by scheduling an appointment on a Friday or a Saturday, in the event that he need a day or two to recover from the appointment. But oh no, the kid said. He'll be fine no matter what day he's booked on, so it was settled that his first session would be one week from today (i.e. next Tuesday after his classes). Stubborn kid.

With Eren gone, the whole aura within my shop shifted. It was almost immediately that I began to relax my shoulders and roll my neck. Hanji must have caught wind of my tension, because she asked, "He's really something, isn't he? Eren, I mean."

"How do you know his name?" I thought only I had been entrusted with the privilege of knowing his name, along with its spelling, but it would appear that I was wrong.

Hanji began to tap her pen against the scheduling sheets. With a click, she said, "He signed it right down here, of course. Not only that, but he told me his name before you showed up this morning. He's quite talkative, you know."

"Yeah, I know." That had me curious. I'd only been five or ten minutes late like always, so why was it that Hanji was making it seem like she knew more about this kid than I did? Just dwelling on the thought reminded me that Hanji had actually been laughing, when I'd entered the shop. Damn it, now I needed to know what they were talking about. "Hey, why were you laughing earlier?"

"Huh?" It took her a second, before the cause and effect connected with the question. "Oh, that? Eren was just telling me about how he was completely determined to have you remove his tattoo for him. Levi, he was so adamant and enthusiastic about it that it was almost pathetic. Just seeing and hearing him talk about how he'd totally be able to convince you and to sway your reasoning, it made me laugh because I knew that you would never give into him. Then again, you did something very surprising today."

That was the biggest understatement of the century. Surprising didn't even begin to describe what I'd done. As for my comeback? It was weak. "Well, whatever. We made a deal. I'm not someone who backs out on their word."

"Yes, but you're also someone who consistently rants about their views on the removal, destruction, or altering of art of any kind. Levi, I can't even count how many times I've had to turn away customers requesting removals on your behalf. You've only had to deny a handful of them personally, but I've had to decline more than my fingers, toes, or memory space can compute. And don't get me wrong, you and I share the same way of thinking about all of this, so that's why it just really blows my mind that some kid who you've never met before and have already said no to once can somehow get you to kneel at his demand. It's just...very interesting."

Hanji had a point; actually, she had many points, and that's why I began to glare at her prickly, pointy self. There was something she wasn't saying, and I had a feeling that hearing her say it would only piss me off. So, why exactly did I prompt her to continue? I really didn't know. "Where are you going with all of this, Hanji? What are you implying?"

There was a pause. Her silence was not only unsettling, it was a foreign notion, and before I received her response, she stood from where she'd been seated at the front counter and rounded the corner of it. With her hands on her hips and her shoulders raised, she looked me straight in the eye and expressed the last piece to her still perplexing puzzle. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure myself. All I'm saying is that if this Eren kid has the ability to shake your standards with little to no effort at all, I can't help but feel like there's something more to this entire situation than just a bargain. But like I said, I'm still not sure. Only time will tell, I suppose...but you know what?"

"Hm?" It was amazing how, seconds ago, I wanted nothing more than to hear the rest of what Hanji had to say. Now, I just wanted her to shut up. That was pretty much our entire relationship in a nutshell. Nonetheless, it was with a smile on her face and chuckle in her chest that had the air of the shop shifting again, this time into something slightly more breathable.

"At least Eren managed to entertain us with the story his tattoo is burdened by."

Entertaining was Hanji's way of interpreting that story; nauseating was more like it. Seriously, what kind of college students come up with kinky pet names like that? Was that the new trend? Whatever it was, it was freaking disgusting. And stallion? Give me a break. No brat who's barely an adult deserves such a name. Kitten, on the other hand...I could see that. In fact, I had seen it. Drawing myself back to when Eren had enticed me with his challenging gaze, it had me pairing that set of eyes and fashioning them into a bedroom setting. Damn, that was something I did not need to think about.

Luckily, the abrupt sound of the front door swinging open was enough to pull me out of my disastrous daydream. Hanji had been the one to greet our customer - a regular, in fact - with a bright smile and a chipper word of welcome. This was good; it was the distraction I'd needed. No more thinking about that stupid kid. We had work to do.


We'd tended to the grand total of four customers that day, and although it was a sizable change of pace from yesterday's flood of disappointment, it still wasn't enough to keep us completely satisfied. Maybe our day would have been more fulfilling if the tracings and colorings that we'd done were more complex. A simple butterfly pattern and the shading of a flame wasn't what I'd been looking for. I'd wanted something that would take my mind away from reality and spin me around in a world of subconscious. Sleeve tattoos with a purpose did that to me. Intricate back tattoos that placed a weight on the shoulders also bore that effect. A tattoo that took about thirty minutes of my time was just, for lack of better words, lame in comparison.

By the time I took notice to it, the sun had already set and it was time to close up the shop. With the lights off, the equipment put away, and the doors locked up tight, Hanji suggested that we go out and grab a bite to eat, and this time, I didn't decline her offer. I was hungry as Hell, and she paying for it.

Instead of going to that Mexican restaurant she'd mentioned yesterday, we went to a local diner that we frequented often during our lunch hour and ordered pancakes and waffles. Breakfast for dinner was something we hadn't done in a while, and even though drowning our stomachs with syrup probably wasn't the healthiest of options, it managed to gratify us in a way that our day had not.

Parting ways with Hanji felt odd that evening. Normally, a silent farewell would have been just that - normal. But tonight, it seemed as if all of her unspoken words from dinner were circling my head like a nasty swarm of flies. I could have asked her to spit it out and she more than likely would have, but when I saw her lips part and her breath cut off, I realized it was probably for the best not to pester her. If anything, she had faltered for my own good.

But the flies followed me home.

They followed me out of the car and into the building. They followed me up the stairs and around the railing. The followed me all the way down to where my studio apartment was squished into a cozy little corner, until I unlocked the front door and pushed my way inside. That's when the flies finally flew away, because in that moment, I had heard Hanji's words, both spoken and not, loud and clear.

"I can't help but feel like there's something more to this entire situation than just a bargain."

"...there's something more to this..."

"...something more..."

"...Levi, is there something more to this?"

It would be a foolish lie to say no, but it would be an exaggerated answer to say yes. There was something about Eren, that part of it was true, but whether it was intrigue, bafflement, or utter whoa at his stupidity would remain a mystery to me...temporarily, at least.

I'd been in such a rush that morning, that the sight of yesterday's painting caught me off my guard. It would have been one thing if the image in itself had only been a portrait of a sunrise, but no, that thing had eyes, and they watched and judged my every move until I physically made my way up to the painting and flipped the canvas around. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Yeah, no.

Just seeing those streaks of color had me itching to break out my jars of paint and scrape my hands up and down the jagged, brick walls that encompassed me. I wanted to surround myself with creativity, allowing my mind to be devoured by the subconscious I'd been yearning for, but it was already late. Going out for dinner had subtracted the few hours out of my day that I had to myself. All that was left of my time was enough for a quick piss before bed.

But as I laid there restlessly, vision obscured by the absence of light, it was an hour after I'd tucked myself in between the sheets that I'd cussed like a captain and sailed out of bed. It was no use. Sleep had never been the cure to my cravings. If I wanted to paint, I was going to paint, and off came the lids of my jar set.

Even though the intensity of my deprivation had been rather immense, when I broke out a new canvas and began to swipe fingers tipped with black paint along its surface, something didn't feel right. Black had always been one of my favourite colors to paint with, because its permanency left no room for mistakes. Yet, with each stroke that my index and middle finger masterfully shaped, I felt like I was doing something wrong. My curves were perfect and unique, but they didn't look accurate. My shadows were primed like a prodigy, but I wanted to erase them. Everything about that painting was a mistake, and I wanted nothing more than to chuck it out the window and start all over again. But then, my hand began to gravitate, and everything made sense again.

Pink. Like the color of his lips, and the edges of his tempting tongue. Blue. Like the folds of his shirt and in the threading of his hat. Yellow. Like the elegance of his eyes and the grace of his gaze. Pink, blue, and yellow. Three colors that had no business intermingling with each other had never looked so good on a canvas before. And so I carried on.

When the late hours of the night began to give way to the early minutes of the morning, I dreadfully slumped to my knees and marveled at my masterpiece in awe. A profile of a pleasured visage; the make and mold of an expression overtaken with ecstasy. Mouth agape and eyes ablaze, the colors that would have never managed such mastery on their own worked wonders in unison. And the black paint? It hadn't gone to waste. What was once an error had blossomed into the exact line work of an image that both disturbed and compelled.

It was in that moment that I came to terms with doubts; this had definitely been more than just a bargain. What it became was the most involuntary form of infatuation I had ever experienced, and damn it all, I'd been clawing at my skin with confused impatience every second of the day until the following Tuesday.

Hanji made a point to address my aggression at every chance she grasped. Whether it was an innocent, "Are you okay?" or a more deliberate, "Do you have to act so hostile?" my response always seemed to fall along the same lines.

"Stop asking."

And as fate would have it, the rest of the week dug its heels into the ground, passing on second by agonizing second. The days weren't even all that eventful, either. Had we had a lot of clients to deal with, my brain may not have been so focused on what was to come six days from then, five days from then, four days from then...

The night before Eren's first session, I couldn't sleep at all. Not only did I have two paintings inspired by his stupid self in my apartment - albeit backward-facing, but still - he'd called the shop ten minutes before closing to remind us about his appointment the next day, like we had somehow magically forgotten the monumental occasion.

All throughout the dormant hours of the night, his voice continued to play over and over in my head, ringing in my ears and scratching at my brain. And just the way he'd worded himself, too, it was repulsive; like we were already buddy-buddy with each other, when in reality, the only things I knew about him were his name, his assumed age, his hideous fashion sense, and his tattoo's story. If those were the new qualifications for friends these days, then by all means, call us chummy.

"I'll see you tomorrow. I know you'll be waiting for me."

If only he knew how much time and stress I'd wasted impatiently waiting for Tuesday to come, he'd probably wear the cockiest smirk on his lips for the rest of eternity. He didn't deserve that knowledge. In fact, he didn't even deserve to smile at all, because the only reason I'd been so desperate for his session to come was because I just wanted to get it over with.

But yeah, I didn't sleep that night.

It was with the morning sun burning through my pupils that I texted Hanji and told her I wouldn't be in until the late afternoon. When she asked why, I told her that I was tired. She didn't respond after that, and I didn't feel like adding anything else to my statement. Instead, I burrowed my face into two sets of pillows and tried to drown out the day and drink up what little sleep I could actually get.

By the time I was up and functioning, it was 4PM.

Food was a must, but before I could eat an entire refrigerator's worth of nourishment, I decided to take a shower. Even though I'd showered before heading off to one of my most sleepless nights of my entire life, I wanted to rinse away the tension I'd accumulated in both my back and my neck from trying all different kinds of sleeping positions. As it turned out, the position that was the most effective was the one that killed my posture. I was just a fountain of luck, apparently.

Truth be told, the shower had done me some good, but after getting dressed, downing some leftover ravioli and a breadstick, and slipping out the front door, the tension was back. If I'd estimated it correctly, by the time I arrived at the shop, Eren would be there any minute, if not already there. That realization alone had my foot wavering between both the gas and the brake pedals. Accelerate? Slow down? Face the kid? Make him wait like he made me wait?

I tipped the gas pedal.

Reluctance and eagerness had somehow turned into a recipe for speed, because before I could even comprehend left from right, the gravel from the shop's lot was crunching against the tires of my car and I was pulling up into my designated spot...until I noticed that it wasn't vacant.

If Hanji had been the one to steal my spot, I wouldn't have minded it so much. She and I went back and forth between parking spots all the time, it wasn't that big of a deal. But this car, it wasn't hers, and the thing that ticked me off the most was that I vaguely recognized it.

This car had to have been Eren's.

A muffled cuss and a sharp veer of the steering wheel had me pulling into the spot next to my spot, and after turning off the ignition and getting out of the car, I had every intention to key the side of his door until something in the back window caught my attention. A lot of somethings, actually.

Spread out across the backseats of the car laid both half and fully developed photographs of all sorts. Polaroids, vintage prints, panoramas, etc. All of the display was so cluttered and in such disarray that the beauty of the photographs could hardly be seen in spotlight. But that made me wonder...had Eren taken these photos? If so, well, they weren't all that bad. Actually, some of them were...

"Levi, there you are!" Hanji gasped, rushing out from the front of the shop. "I knew I heard your car pull up. What are you doing out here? You know that Eren's already inside, don't you?"

Sighing, I gave her a nod and tried not to appear all that suspicious. "Yeah, yeah, I know." I almost added that he deserved to wait after all of the anxious tension he'd put me through, but instead asked, "How long has he been here?"

"About fifteen minutes. I saw him waiting in his car for half of that, though, and I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe he's scared?"

Eren? Scared? I highly doubted that. Scoffing, I pushed past Hanji and stepped onto the sidewalk that lined the shop, before saying the one thing that probably hadn't even crossed her mind. "If anything, he's probably disappointed that I wasn't waiting for him."

With enough said and enough time already wasted, I sauntered up to the front door and gave it a push. Entering the shop before Hanji had left me unprepared for what I was about to witness, but even so, I couldn't exactly say that it was unexpected.

In short, the place was an absolute mess. The equipment was everywhere, tattoo guns were laying around like children's toys, and lo and behold, there was Eren, evidently shirtless and ready to go. He shot me a wave. "Hey."

God must have really hated me.

Closing my eyes and inhaling a sharp breath through my nose, I did what every sane person says to do and I counted to ten. When that didn't work, I counted sheep and suddenly felt tired all over again. Wonderful. "Hanji, what exactly did you do today that caused all of..." I could only think to gesture at everything before me, including Eren, "...this?"

"Well," she started innocently, "it's kind of difficult running a shop all by yourself, you know. Aside from Eren, we had two other customers that were scheduled at times that were fairly close to one another, so lots of rushing and rummaging around was going on. Oh, and the coffee pot almost caught on fire, but don't worry! I handled it."

That was an overstatement, an overstatement that I didn't want to see happen again. "Hanji," I said, breathing away my intoxicating anger, "I think you've had a long enough day. You should go home."

"But what about Eren?" If I didn't know any better, I would have said that she seemed genuinely concerned about leaving him alone with me. It's funny how Eren ended up being the one to speak up for himself.

"I'll be fine," he said, looking rather pleased. "If Levi and I are going to be having sessions like this for a year or more, we're going to have to get to know each other pretty well, wouldn't you say?"

"I guess that's true...but are you sure that you two will be okay? I can totally stay and help out around-"

I cut her off. "You've helped enough, thank you."

Getting verbally demanding with Hanji always had a tendency to make her go into "kicked puppy" mode, but I couldn't help myself this time. There was too much happening all at once and I was starting to feel suffocated. I just needed a second to breathe.

Obediently, Hanji collected up her things and told me to call her if I needed anything, before she walked out of the shop, got into her car, and drove off, leaving me, Eren, and a hoard of mess behind.

For someone who usually talks so much, Eren had been oddly quiet until Hanji had left. Now that it was just the two of us, he must have mustered up the will to say, "I wasn't sure if you needed me to take my shirt off during the removal or not. What do you think?"

"You could have kept it on," I sighed, trying to keep my cool about the whole thing. Eren had already made a vast mistake by parking in my spot, but if he could just be a little more agreeable in his speech and actions, maybe this evening wouldn't end up being so bad. "If anything, I'll need you to take off your pants."

"Roger that." Walking over to where he must have tossed his shirt, Eren slipped the article of vibrant clothing back over his head, before hooking his fingers through the loops of his jeans. Undoing his buttons and his belt, he shimmied until his pants were halfway down his thighs. That's when he looked up at me. "Where should I sit?"

Waving my hand at all of his options, I told him that any chair would be fine as long as he let me wipe it down first. And so, after picking the chair that was the furthest from the front entrance, Eren sat on the edge of it while I went to go and grab a spray bottle and a moist cloth.

With the chair disinfected and everything else basically ready to go, Eren laid back and made himself comfortable. I would have thought that he seemed rather content, until I heard him sigh all the way over from where I was gathering up the equipment for his removal.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

At first, his only response had been another sigh, but soon enough, his pretty, pink lips formed words. "I'm just...in shock, I guess. Happy, but shocked."

Rolling the cart with my gadgets and gizmos over to where Eren sat, I plopped myself down in my artist's chair and tried to make better sense of what he was saying. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He favored a slight pause, before turning his attention over to me. With his eyes finally on mine, I could accurately see how happy he truly was. "I guess I'm also pretty thankful that you're doing this for me. I mean, I could have gone somewhere else without nearly as much of a fuss, but I didn't want to. Your shop drew me in from the moment I read about it online, and after seeing it in person and meeting both you and Hanji, I knew that you guys were the ones to do this, whether you liked it or not."

"Yeah, definitely not," I stated, in regards to his mention about our likes. Even so, hearing that he had placed my shop up to such high standards was actually kind of flattering. I almost wanted to ask him what other expectations he had for my business, but quickly decided against it. We could chat about that later. For now, it was time to get gloved up and start executing the one magic tragic that an artist like myself had never imagined to preform.

With latex on my hands and a laser gun at my mercy, I felt like I was asking Eren's consent for much more than just his word to begin. "Are you ready, Eren?"

He wasn't hesitant. In fact, he'd said yes, before I could even get the full sound of his name out of my mouth. "Alright then," I said, with a slight nod. "Hold down your boxers for me and I'll get started."

Without remark, Eren dug his thumb under the elastic band of his underwear and pulled them down just enough to reveal the full expanse of his Godawful tattoo. I saw him sneak a peek at it one last time, before rolling his eyes in disgust and ultimately closing them altogether. He muttered something, but I couldn't exactly make out what he'd said, because just when he'd started to speak, I'd flipped the ON switch on the gun, smoothed my fingers against his hip, and began to press the laser into his tattooed skin.

It was surprising how willing I'd been to agree to Eren's request, but what surprised me even more was how simple it was to actually remove a tattoo. Forget the long process and the numbered sessions, I was actually enjoying the motion of just smoothing this device along Eren's pelvis. Something interesting was that he didn't even flinch when I'd pressed the gun into him without warning, and after going at the same patch of skin for about five minutes or so, I'd even seen him relax.

However, with ten minutes already clocked into the session, I'd realized that neither of us had said a word to each other. Yeah, and here I thought that we were supposed to get to know each other better. I would have pitted that statement against him, if I hadn't already noticed that his boxers were slowly but surely creeping back up to his hips. What in the...

"Well, I'll be damned..."

I didn't think it was physically possible to do so, when your body was being inflicted with constant, irritable pain, but leave it to Eren to fall asleep during his first tattoo removal session.


Hi there! Chappy here! :D

Eren's pain tolerance is off the charts, isn't it? Haha, the poor kid is probably exhausted from all of his college work, huh?

Anyways, this chapter ended up being a bit longer than expected, and I'm really happy for that! Then again, the lengths of the chapters in this story may or may not fluctuate depending on the content they each contain, so yeah! I really enjoyed writing for this chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it! (:

And, as always, thank you for taking the time to read!

- Chappy