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I would have never imagined that when this green-haired ball of fire walked into my tattoo shop all those years ago, that he would be the beginning of my undoing. That he’d cross every line I drew. That he’d push through every barrier. That he’d tear down my walls, and never stop until I learned to see myself through his eyes.
Then there’s Cole. My boy toy. My wildcard. He taught the broken man inside of me to learn to feel again. To open myself up to accepting love and giving it in return. To make myself vulnerable.
When the Brotherhood dissolved, and Travis took the businesses legit, he gave me the option to stay on. He still needed security for his commercial properties and the clubs, and after all, I am the best of the best when it comes to technology. The thing is, computers just remind me of the past. It reminds me of all the ways I lost myself trying to find missing pieces that were never truly missing. It reminds me of all the ways I continually punished myself and by proxy, everyone I loved.
So I bowed out. I declined, and threw myself into this studio. The pieces that Rodney left me. I needed to keep his legacy alive, because he took a chance on a runaway kid that anyone else would have thrown away. I didn’t see it then, but I see now that he was the first in a long line of people who saved me.
Smiling at the memories, I finish the last of the shading, and turn off my machine, setting it on the table beside me. Wiping the fresh tattoo clean, I hold my breath, kind of worried about the reaction I’m going to get. For someone who has never had a tattoo, he laid still for so long, hanging in there through the very long arduous day beneath my machine, only breaking a few times for pizza or to take a piss.
“Alright, all done, boy toy.”
“Really?” he yawns, stretching his arms out before pushing himself up off the table.
“Shit, it’s been such a long day,” Riot laughs from the couch in the corner where he’s been napping off and on all day.
Cole never had a single tattoo in his life. Once upon a time, he told me that he enjoyed being a blank canvas. As an artist, he couldn’t see anyone else’s work on his skin. So the fact that he trusted me to cover up his scars, spoke mountains more about how he feels for me than his lips could ever utter. He didn’t even see the design before I went to work, so if he hates it, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.
“Wanna take a look?” I ask, biting my bottom lip nervously as I push to stand up.
“Yes!” he answers emphatically, as he moves to his feet.
Reaching behind my supply cabinet, I pull out the longer mirror for my large pieces, so he can see the piece in its entirety.
“Holy shit,” Riot mutters as he pushes up to his feet, quickly walking up beside us. “It’s beautiful.”
“Really?” Cole asks, his eyes widening as he wrings his fingers together, riddled with nervous energy.
“Really,” Riot beams, nodding his head as he grabs Cole’s arm and spins him so his back faces the long mirror mounted to the wall.
Shaking, I hold the large mirror up, and walk to the front of him.
“Look, I… I really hope you like it Cole.”
“Just shut up and show me, beautiful,” he smiles.
Lifting my arms up, I move a smidge to the side and hold the mirror so that he can see the reflection behind him. His eyes widen, the gold flecks glittering like little pieces of sunlight peeking through the trees.
“Zeke, you didn’t… how?”
“All those late nights at the studio? Well, I wasn’t exactly forthcoming with whose studio I was at. I was at yours. Night and day. Taking photographs. Sketching everything out just right. I couldn’t stop until it was absolutely perfect.”
“It is…” Cole’s eyes well up with tears, “perfect. So perfect.”
“You mean it?”
“Thank you, beautiful. Thank you for making me want to look in the mirror again. Even all this time later… every time I’d see those scars, I found myself in that cell all over again. But now… Zeke… It’s beautiful.”
Now it’s my eyes welling up with tears. As we all gaze upon Cole’s upper back, we no longer see the criss-crossed silvery scars. The daily reminder of the terror we endured. Now, we see the mural he made just for us. Our beginning. The people we once were, all tied together across the backdrop of the city skyline.
Cole grips the mirror, taking it from my hands and setting it on the chair as he steps into me. “I love you, Zeke Adams. You stubborn, demanding, guarded, big-hearted man. You saved me in that cell, and every day you make me thankful for this life. I love you.”
“Ditto to that baby,” Riot walks up beside him, lifting his hand to my chest. “You always thought you didn’t deserve happiness, but you deserve it more than anyone I know. I love you, all the way into the dark.”
I look between the men that make my heart race, and I feel happy. I feel full. I no longer carry the weight of the world, not only because I healed in all the ways I never knew I needed, but because when it all becomes too much; I have Riot and Cole, ready and waiting to carry some of the load.
Because that’s what love is, taking on that extra weight when the world is too much.
Together.
THE END.
