Different alcoves have different chairs or tables, obviously meant to accommodate different tattooing needs. Ashton thinks he recognizes Link's style more in the stations to the left, while Sam’s are probably the ones to the right. It’s all a bit overwhelming, unlike anything he’s seen in the entirety of his professional life.
Over the course of Ashton’s career, from training to apprenticing to freelancing, every shop he’s worked for (including, and perhaps especially Sainted Angels) has beensterile. Not in regards to cleanliness, which is a given, but rather personality. Blah, boring, and sterile. Emotionless, lackingheart.While it was never his shop or place to say, that whole concept and presentation always sat uncomfortably with Ashton, being in such stark contrast with what theydidin the space. Whitaker never understood his gripe, wouldn’t even consider entertaining his thoughts on the subject, and in hindsight, Ashton resented that, too.
Butthis—something about this place calls to him and feelsright. Something about it tells Ashton that it’s where he’s meant to be, that he’s finally come home. Of course, he knows that’s ridiculous. That he’s being strange and silly, likely projecting the weird, intense emotions being stirred up in his head by what they’re about to discuss. After all, he’s only just met Link, and this is the man’s home. Most assuredly, he’s gettingwayahead of himself.
Still, as Ashton turns to look at Link, full of wonderment and even joy, he finds the man with both hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring back with a soft, appreciative smile on his face. Something passes between them, and he can’t help but start to wonder.
Perhaps it’s not so strange, after all.
?
Against all odds (and everything Ashton’s prepared himself for when it comes to having this discussion), talking to Link turns out to be quite easy. Perhaps that’s because Link is somewhat of an open book himself, offering anecdotes and personal stories from his own life that both assist Ashton in getting to know him and also serve to keep him from spiraling while he recounts his own bullshit. Thanks to that, Ashton manages to tell his story without drifting too far into unhappy nostalgia or making both of them terribly uncomfortable by having some sort of mental breakdown.
They wind up sitting together on one of the atrium couches, and Link shows himself to be a surprisingly thoughtful host. He disappears momentarily, returning from the depths of the bunker with a big plate of sandwiches that he sets down carefully before retrieving a bottle of whiskey from the bar. After pouring each of them a generous three fingers, he leaves it on the table with an easy, “Help yourself.”
Grateful for the liquid courage, Ashtonmightfavor the whiskey a bit more heavily than is strictly wise on an empty stomach, too late in his attempts to compensate for it with bread, meat, and cheese, none of which put any real damper on his significant buzz.
The end result is an Ashton that’s somewhat looser and far less uptight about sharing than usual. That’s okay, in his opinion, because he needs to be honest. It’s crucial, even. Link deserves to have all of the background information on the project—onhim—before he decides whether he evenwantsto attempt giving Ashton what he’s seeking.
Between sips and bites, Ashton pours out his entire relationship with Whitaker. How they met while Ashton was still in art school, how Whitaker had been a guest speaker in a “practical applications” seminar meant for students who had no idea what they wanted to do with their talents upon graduation. How after watching Whitaker’s presentation and listening to him talk, Ashton found himself smitten with tattooing and never looked back.
It didn’t hurt that Whitaker’s specialty wasmagicalink, or that Ashton had always been interested in exploring the intersection of art and magical infusion—that discovery only cemented his choice and made him feel increasingly enamored.Soenamored that he gladly stepped into the role of “Wide-Eyed Ingenue,” opposite Whitaker’s “Captivating Mentor,” with the experienced man more than happy to take a naive and eager fledgling underneath his wing.
Whitaker was an industry veteran at that point, running his own shop and boasting a reputation that kept him in both expensive liquor and designer clothing without breaking a sweat. As far as Ashton was concerned, theirpartnershipwas a match made in heaven. He didn’t know what he didn’t know.
And to be fair, at first, Whitaker was cautious to maintain professional distance between the two of them. To curate the appearance of having principles, boundaries, and ethics. He initially set Ashton up as an apprentice to one of his employees instead of himself, theoretically allowing him to grow as both an artist and a person without undue pressure onhow,exactly,he should go about doing that.
Most importantly, Whitaker gave him the praise, acceptance, and validation he never received before finding the art community—for his work, yes, but also for who he was becoming as aperson.
Hindsight being what it is, Ashton can see through the facade now. Can pick out the various situations in which Whitaker was carefully manipulative, exerting his influence in the most subtle of ways. He was particularly skilled at leading Ashton to feel empowered and as if he was making his own choices, all the while ensuring that the ones made benefitted both himself and the studio, in whatever manner Whitaker desired.
Eventually, that subtle influence began seeping into Ashton’s personal life. The first time Whitaker kissed him, Ashton had recently become a full-fledged artist in his employ. At that point, he still had stars in his eyes when it came to the man. In many ways, Ashton owed him his entire life, certainly his career and client list. Aside from that, just the idea of beingwantedby someone as skilled and as talented, assuccessfulas Whitaker was—well, it was flattering. Even now, Ashton’s not sure that he can be blamed for falling so easily into that trap.
And Whitaker wasn’t abadman, not really. At least, not when it came to their relationship. He never treated Ashton cruelly or forced him to do things sexually that he wasn’t interested in doing. Whitaker simply knew what he wanted and wasn’t averse to using control and manipulation to get there. Even being somewhat aware of those proclivities, Ashton hadn’t been unhappy with him. At Whitaker’s side, he’d enjoyed his life in general, liked his job at the shop, and he and Whitaker shared many good times together.
It’s a conflicting history to reflect upon, but ultimately, the only thing that Ashtonreallywishes he could change about it has to do with the ending.
Sitting in the Soul-arium’s lobby, he tells Link as much. The rest—well, those were learning experiences, everyone has them. The problem truly was the way Whitaker behavedafterthey split, and Ashton… perhaps he should have seen it coming.
The day Ashton broke up with him, Whitaker seemed to take it well. Ashton tried to be sensitive, bringing his soon-to-be-ex to his favorite martini bar where Whitaker nursed drink after drink, listening intently in whatappearedto be a thoughtful manner as Ashton laid himself bare. As kindly as he was able, Ashton explained that while he loved Whitaker as a friend, he wasn’tinlove with him, and he thought they both deserved better than that.
The conversation had been calm and civil, they embraced comfortably outside the restaurant before leaving in separate Ubers, and Ashton returned home that night feeling relieved. It was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, since—at the time—Ashton wassurehe’d managed to preserve both a valuable friendship and his job in Whitaker’s shop.
Not to mention, his work-in-progress ink. In retrospect, this is where he should have focused his concern—it was the biggest thing hanging in the balance, the aspect of his life most out of his control andinWhitaker’s hands. Obviously, he should’ve waited. He simply didn’t recognize the danger at the time.
Of course, Ashton considered that in a worst-case scenario, his tattoo could be at risk of going unfinished. Thatisthe worst scenario he envisioned, though—that it wouldn’t be finished.That Whitaker would be too heartbroken to work on him, and that he’d need to find a new artist and perhaps shift his vision. He never even considered Whitaker might be capable of something more sinister and vindictive.
His optimistic belief that things were fine seemed to be validated when Ashton showed up to work the next day and Whitaker treated him the same way he always had, minus the tongue down his throat and the frequent, cheeky requests for sexual favors in the supply closet. In fact, things were almosttooperfect, too normal and routine, and perhaps that should have been a clue as well.
Still, even now, Ashton has to wonder why he should have naturally assumed the worst of someone who previously only ever seemed interested in lifting him up.
Of course, not everyone agreed. In the aftermath, Ashton’s brother Austin, for instance, was quick to point out that anything Whitaker might’ve given Ashton had strings attached or helped Whitaker himself out in some fashion. All the same, and even knowing the outcome, Ashton thinks that’s a rather cynical way to look at life in general. Most things in the world are quid pro quo, tit for tat. That fact certainly doesn’t mean thateveryoneis secretly hiding a monster behind their mask.
Whitaker was, though.
Three days after their break-up, Whitaker asked how Ashton felt about scheduling an evening session, one with the specific goal of putting the final touches on his back tattoo—mainly, the magic. This particular piece of art was something they worked on together, something Ashton spent hours painstakingly sketching, erasing, and sketching again until it felt perfect, hunched over his desk until his back ached.
Wings.Big, beautiful, feathery wings that would stretch wide and glow, a true extension of himself and how hard he’s worked to earn them.
