ELLIOTT
Elliott's phone rang, and he knew by the ringtone that it was Kurt. It was already quite late, but he picked up right away.
"Hey," he started, but Kurt cut him off.
"I want to get a tattoo."
"Um… okay," Elliott replied, frowning. "Is everything alright? Have you been drinking?"
"Yes, and no-" Kurt sounded half-exasperated, half-excited. "I'm sober and I'm fine. I really want to do this now, and you're the only one I know who'd actually support me and would not try to talk me out of it. Please come with me. I need you."
Elliott didn't need to be told twice. He agreed to meet Kurt at the subway.
"Okay, so what's this all about?" Elliott asked after Kurt had kissed the air next to his cheek in greeting.
"It's Rachel. No, actually, I'm not doing this because of her, but…" Kurt shook his head and made another try to explain as they got into a subway cart. "Rachel quit NYADA this morning."
"What?!"
"I know, crazy right? So she summons me to Belmondo's for lunch, and I really don't have the time but I go anyway, figuring she needs help setting things straight with the Dean. Only when I get there, she tells me it was the right thing to do and wants me to endorse it. Obviously I didn't-"
"Yah," Elliott agreed, shaking his head a little. Who quit a school that only took on 20 new students each year?
"So she got angry with me and said that staying at NYADA means I am hiding in my safe place and I need to grow up."
"Huh?"
Kurt shrugged. "I know it's nonsense. But it got me thinking. What if I am playing it safe? Not with NYADA, but with my whole life, you know? My path has been different and exciting considering my background, but considering who I think I am and how I see myself, it's like I've taken the streetcar named predictability. Glee club, musical theatre school, respectable jobs on the side, highschool sweetheart… I mean, this is New York! Shouldn't I be out there, partying, living it up, rebelling, doing the whole 'live while we're young' thing?"
Elliott smirked. "And you think getting a tattoo is all of that?"
"Well, it's a start," Kurt said, blushing a little. "You can't expect me to throw my whole Ohio upbringing out of the door in one night."
Elliott nudged Kurt's his shoulder with his own. "Don't. I like you that way."
"Just a small-town boy…" Kurt sang quietly, his smile suddenly a little dimmed. "Do you think it's stupid?"
Elliott quickly shook his head. "Nah. There are a lot of reasons people get tattoos. To celebrate a special occasion, to make a statement, or just because they like the way it looks. All of those reasons are valid. If you want this, and feel that it's a step in the right direction, let's go do it."
Kurt's smile returned. "Thanks. Here. This is our stop. I figured we'd go to the place that kicked me out last time. I kind of feel like I owe them my custom."
"Are you serious?" Elliott let out as they resurfaced from New York's public transport. "This is where you went last time?" He looked at the shop. "I love this place. I got the upper part of my sleeve done here!"
Kurt let out a giddy squeal next to him. "Perfect!"
They entered the shop. There was a new girl at the counter, but the place looked the same as ever. "Hey," Elliott said. "Is Luis in the back?"
"Yeah," the girl nodded, only briefly taking her eyes off a design she was drawing inside a notebook. "LUIS!"
A middle-aged man in a greyed sleeveless shirt and a plaid vest stepped through the chain curtain, metal links clicking. "What the hell are you shouting for– Elliott?" His entire demeanor changed, from vaguely hostile to welcoming. "Long time no see, man. Are you here for another one?" He offered Elliott a hand to clasp.
Elliott took it and they pressed their forearms together for a moment in a familiar handshake. "Hey man. No, I'm here with my friend Kurt. Moral support."
Luis let go of his hand and took a frowning look at Kurt. "Are you on tv or something? I feel like I've seen you before."
"He's the leader of my band," Elliott said proudly. Kurt gave him a nervous wave.
"I'm the one- uh… you kicked me out a few months ago. I was drunk and I wanted to get a tattoo- I mean, I thought I wanted it, but-" Kurt broke off when Luis glared at him.
"Please save me the lifetime story. You haven't come to sue me or anything, have you?" Luis asked gruffly.
"Oh no," Kurt immediately reassured him. "I want to get a tattoo. Please."
Elliott thought Kurt's nervosity was completely endearing. Luis looked intimidating, but he wasn't half as scary as he'd like people to think. Elliott knew they'd warm up to each other soon enough.
"I have someone to finish up," Luis said, nodding at the room in the back. "Why don't you write down or sketch whatever it is you want and I'll take a look when I'm done."
Kurt nodded and sat down with Elliott. He nervously started drumming his heels to the floor, until Elliott put a hand on his knee. "You know I won't laugh if you changed your mind, right?" Elliott offered. "We can go anytime you want."
Kurt smiled. "I haven't changed my mind." He looked around. "You know, last time, I found this place super scary. But it's actually kind of nice. Atmospheric. Oh look, bamboo!" He pointed at a niche next to the counter.
Elliott squeezed Kurt's knee. He could tell his friend was trying really hard not to bolt out of the place again. "Luis is a good guy," he said. "I was here for a couple of sessions so we kind of got to know each other. He's all about positive experiences. He has this whole philosophy about turning mistakes into opportunities."
Kurt was listening curiously, and had stopped drumming his heels.
"He opens up his studio once a month to victims of domestic violence and offers to tattoo over scars and bad memories, for free. You should check out the pictures on his website, they look amazing."
"Really?" Kurt took his eyes from the décor and looked at Elliott. "He can do that?"
Elliott frowned. "Why? Do you—?" For a moment, a flashback of Blaine yelling at him in his apartment appeared in front of his eyes.
Kurt shook his head. "No, no. I just didn't know that was possible. I figured a scar is a scar."
"Well, it is. They're not gonna go away. But Luis turns them into something else. Into a piece of art. That way, you don't always have to see them and remember."
By now, Kurt was looking at him intently, and Elliott knew he owed Kurt a story. He only hesitated for a split second. Then, he shrugged off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeve.
"Okay," he said, "give me your hand."
Kurt held out his hand and Elliott took it, guiding his fingers towards his bicep. "There. Can you feel that? The edges?"
Kurt frowned and leaned closer, peering at the tattoo. He traced it with his fingers. "I feel something, but…"
"They're initials," Elliott said. "Not mine."
Kurt pulled his hand away and brought the fingers to his lips. "How…?"
"A razorblade. I don't remember much of it. We were both incredibly high, and not for the first time." Elliott grimaced. "By the time I sobered up, it was already infected. It looked really gross. I got scared and went to the hospital. They asked me if the same razor had been used on anyone else. I had no idea. Then I realized I had no idea about anything I did that night, or the nights before that. That was some wake-up call."
"Oh my god," Kurt whispered.
Elliott reached into his pocket and took out a small bronze coin. He showed it to Kurt. "I used the weeks I had to wait to get tested to go to meetings. I got clean. My test came back negative."
Kurt, who had closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again. His pupils were huge. "And the…person whose initials you got?" He nodded at Elliott's arm.
"I haven't seen him since." Elliott put the coin away and looked at his shoulder. "I haven't forgotten, but I didn't want to spend the rest of my life walking around with a stranger's name on my arm, you know? So I came here. And it turned out even better than I hoped."
Kurt let out a deep breath. "Yeah. You can't see it at all. That's amazing." Then, he bit his lip and looked down at his boots, scuffing his toes over the floor.
Elliott wasn't sure what to make of it. Was he appalled with his story? Disappointed? "I should have told you sooner," he offered. "It just never seemed like the right moment, you know?" He quickly added: "And I don't do that stuff anymore. You've seen me at the club, I'm completely-" he gestured empathically, "completely boring." He laughed self-consciously.
"No, no that's not it!" Kurt said quickly. "I was just thinking- Rachel was right after all. I'm the boring one. With the safe life. I just feel so childish."
Elliott raised his eyebrows. "You are the least childish person I know," he said earnestly. "Me, messing around with my health like that? That was childish." He paused. "And just because you don't have any marks on your skin to cover up doesn't mean you don't have any scars."
Kurt pressed his lips into a thin smile. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something more, but then Luis came walking up to them, and he quickly rose and took a piece of paper from his pocket. Elliott tried to take a look as the sheet changed hands, but it was just out of reach.
Luis took it and nodded to himself.
"It's a part of the sheet music for-" Kurt started, but Luis cut him off.
"I don't care. Have you checked it for mistakes this time?"
"Yes," Kurt said, a little subdued.
"Where do you want it?"
"Um. On my shoulder blade. Here." Kurt pointed at his right shoulder.
"Size ok?" Luis held up the sheet.
Kurt nodded.
"Alright. I'm going to make a stencil. Go through to the back. Elliott will show you."
Elliott gave Kurt an encouraging smile. "The sheet music for what?" he asked as soon as Luis was out of earshot. "I care."
Kurt smiled. "Defying Gravity," he said. "And you won't bring me down."
Okay. So maybe Elliott was sending unsubtle messages after all. Luis was not a big talker, and he didn't care about hearing stories either- but he got to seea lot of people, and he had a keen eye. The knowing look he shot Elliott over Kurt's naked shoulder made Elliott feel quite caught in the act.
He had been watching his friend's concentrated face; eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open a little as he breathed through the sting of the needle. Kurt was sitting astride an ergonomical tattoo chair, leaning his bare chest against the leather padding. It would have taken a much, much stronger mind than Elliott's to stay unaffected by the sight, and he prided himself on being quite zen. But definitely not zen enough not to wonder if this was anything like Kurt's orgasm face, or what he'd look like straddling his lap instead of that chair.
Elliott quickly looked away as he met Luis' eyes. He knew the tattoo artist didn't care, but he felt guilty anyway. After his talk with Dani, Elliott had decided he'd wait until Kurt made a move - and that meant he really needed to stop wearing his heart (and his hard-on) on his sleeve.