Daemin & @dywheejun – Future Regrets
The need for an opinion from a conveniently perfect person recently placed within his life, lead to a night he hadn’t expected to be so wildly exciting given the seemingly reserved nature of his guest for the evening. Kwon Wheejun didn’t exactly scream fun drinking partner at first glance, but the results of shameless intermingling among a crowd of those alike both with and without the establishment’s owner urging him on an arm length’s away settled any boring assumptions he may have had left about the stylist. Of course a thought process this articulate wouldn’t pass the businessman’s mind say until the next morning, but in his current state of haze and alcoholic disruption, anything was possible with the extended lengths their drunken chatting flew to.
The topic of drinking lead to dancing and with dancing lead to experiences, and from experiences came the stories of each tattoo littering Daemin’s body, and then the suggestion for Wheejun to get some of his own, with Daemin’s heavy excitement used for further encouragement to the influenced latter.
“Bro, seriously I’ll get one with you– like tattoos are fun and better when you’re drunk anyway, it hurts way less–!”
And before they knew it, the pair fought the cold in the Itaewon streets in search of a parlor Daemin frequented in the local area, as if he knew the best tattoo places in each district by heart.
“After you, man. Take it all in, be the first to b r e a t h e in the blood, sweat, and tears that is body art–” He cut himself off laughing at his own cheesy lines, as he held the door open upon locating the place.
Another successful speech check convincing of Kwon Wheejun to step foot out of the comfortable confines of his apartment. The air of the club was hot and the music stale, but a few more drinks circulating the bloodstream, the designer was on two feet, shedding a thick coat and dancing as if two feet weren't both left.
A mind, cloudy, ordered curious hands upon the temptingness of the elder's body, the delicious tone of their arms, tracing thick ink in the intricate patterns they were permanently marked, 'When did you get these?' and their mouths roll off a foreign tongue: English-- Wheejun's still got it.
Someway, somehow, two leave the club, intoxication thick on their psyches, with the agreed bright idea of one body gaining another piece of the puzzle and the other, a blank canvas, a virgin, to pop his tattoo cherry. ~*~ "Yah," A sigh, relived from the harsh cold of the elements, "What kind of corny shit are you going on about?"
Sight, scent, and hearing: men tattooed from head to toe, the unidentified flavor of air freshener, and the buzz of machines singing in a harmonious tune.
The unexperienced stays behind, allows the other to do his thing, work a silver tongue, with the woman behind the counter Daemin'll probably try to chat up. Tattooed, dyed locks, and pierced features-- his type, Wheejun guesses. Wheejun, who still hasn't a clue where and what he'll be forever staining his body.
