hyeon chews on a toothpick, hands stuffed in their bomber jacket, staring across the street at venom ink. they haven’t stopped by since their friend left. no goodbye, no texts, as if they simply disappeared. call them a sentimental bastard, but maybe they got a little attached to the other familiar. they’d been one of their first friends after settling down in crescent cove. surely, whomever took over the place couldn’t be that bad.
they push off the wall, tossing the snapped pick into the trash. a visible sigh puffs out into the chilling air as they make their way towards the parlour. any other time, they might’ve shadow stepped inside, but hyeon decides against potentially scaring their future tattoo artist. at least the door chimes the same upon entering. at first glance, the furniture appears the same, maybe rearranged. the biggest difference is the artwork decorating the walls — did the walls change color too?
their eyes land on someone working further back, the new owner they presume. something familiar ( no pun intended ) tickles up their spine. they nibble at their lip trying to pinpoint the midnight blue hair, the sharp jawline, who ... “ fuck. ” the second they realize the words didn’t stay in their chaotic mind, they snap their mouth shut. their eyes dart to the side, half-tempted to duck behind the counter. they’ve been in the studio too many times to know damn well there’s no where to hide up front. so, they do the next best thing and shadow steps back outside.
@fvnged
