▌ Title: Permanent
▌ Words: 2,609.
▌ Pairing: Minho/Taemin.
▌ Rating: Pg-13.
▌ Start date: 26th October, 2010.
▌ Completion date: tba.
▌ Summary: The final step of his rebellion stage (the last thing Taemin could think of doing that didn’t end up with him in a hospital or permanently damaged) was getting a tattoo. He didn’t tell his parents, he just slipped into the store and asked about it, causally sending a glance to the female getting a tattoo on her ankle at the time. She was crying. He looked back to the wall; it was made of dark wood panels. He thought about getting the swallow he saw.

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Taemin was young and rebellious. He finished high school with a C average, and his mother said goodbye to his future because clearly he wasn’t smart or organised. He begged to differ. He didn’t go to class often so getting C’s was an accomplishment in his eyes.

He let his hair grow out until it reached his shoulders. His father didn’t like it very much, saying it looked too girly, but Taemin liked it so it was staying. No one said anything when he coloured it red, the sunlight reflected off of it like a traffic light. He liked the way people gave him that second look on the street, it made him feel like he was the centre of attention, which was partly true. He started wearing tighter jeans and more expensive shoes (that he ruined within 3 months) and shopped two times a week because his parents had given him their credit card (for emergencies).

Life was fun. This is what he’d wanted, to break free from high school and fall away from everything he’d been classified as. It just so happened that the rebellious stage happened during high school, not after.

His friends stopped talking to him; it was probably caused by the lack of call-backs and the way he never seemed to have time for them anymore. Most of them were busy anyway, with university and jobs and things that Taemin didn’t want to do. It was better that they split up.

The final step of his rebellion stage (the last thing Taemin could think of doing that didn’t end up with him in a hospital or permanently damaged) was getting a tattoo. He didn’t tell his parents, he just slipped into the store and asked about it, causally sending a glance to the female getting a tattoo on her ankle at the time. She was crying. He looked back to the wall; it was made of dark wood panels and covered with photos and templates. He thought about getting the swallow he saw.

“What can I do for you today?” A young man asked. Taemin could see the tattoos crawling up his neck.

“I want to get a tattoo,” Taemin said, flicking his hair off his forehead and tapping on the glass counter with one hand.

The man smiled, “First time?” Taemin nodded and suddenly he was handed a book. Inside was pricing, times, care and photos of art by each of the tattoo artists there. “Know what you want?”

“Maybe like, a bird or something?” The teenager said meekly, throwing his hand around as if it helped him explain, “Not a big one, I have to be able to hide it.”

“Job?”

“Parents.”

“We’re not allowed to give tattoos to miners without parental permission,” he said and his voice seemed to go up a key as if he was talking to a child.

“I’m old enough,” Taemin spat back, eyebrows digging together. He thought that he had looked old enough, what child would wear the same clothes as him? But he was obviously stuck in his own views, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know himself and guess what age he looked.

The man raised his arms defensively, a smirk sliding onto his face. His sleeves fell back slightly and more designs could be seen etched into his wrists, “Okay man, sorry. So you want a bird? What kind of bird?”

“I don’t know, what kind of birds can I get?”

“You’re difficult,” the man laughed and re-adjusted the silver bracelet hanging around his wrist, “If you flip to,” he took the book out of Taemin’s hands and skipped to page fifty-three, “Minho’s stuff, he does a lot of nature tattoos. Birds and fish and , see if you like anything.”

Taemin thanked him and took the book, it was just as wide as it was long, and sat on the wooden bench parallel to the counter. His eyes continuously slipped back to the female in the chair, her ankle grasped by a man with short hair and her hands were curled into the sides of the leather seat. Surely it didn’t hurt that much.

Ten minutes later, he was still flipping through the pages. He’d seen a few that he liked, small birds in all sorts of colours, but didn’t have a clue where on his body to get it. It would be too hard to hide on his arms, and the woman with the ankle tattoo was freaking him out with her crying. If it was on his back he wouldn’t be able to see it half the time, and if it was on his chest he’d have to strip in front of a stranger to get it done (he was confident, but he didn’t want to get half ). A bell chimed just then, interrupting his train of useless thoughts, and a young man, no older than twenty- five, walked in.

Taemin looked at him in awe, half of his head was shaved and coloured bleach blonde, whereas the other half was brown and hung over his face. He too was heavily tattooed, his arms covered in colourful pieces of art and he carried himself proud. A bag was thrown across the counter, girlish and made of leather, and the man Taemin had been talking to grabbed it and slipped it onto the floor. They threw a smile at each other.

“Hello,” he called chirpily, and the man giving the tattoo lifted his head to nod a welcome. The man behind the counter held his hand out and the other took it, swinging around until he too was at the other side. Taemin saw them kiss, just a peck, but he abruptly looked away, flipping a page once again. There was mumbling coming from them, he couldn’t work out what they were saying but the sound of their voices tickled his ears. Were they talking about him?

“Hey sweetie, what are you getting today?” Someone sat next to him and he saw bleach blonde out the corner of his eye.

“A bird. I think. Maybe.” Taemin finally looked at him, noticing the many piercings in his right ear, “I don’t really know.”

“Birds are good for beginners. I wouldn’t suggest getting one if you don’t like them though,” he offered and looked to the book Taemin was holding. “Minho does them best. He’s pretty popular for his little birdies.”

“This is his, right?” he pointed to a small bird on an ankle, “I was thinking about getting something like that. But on my hip.”

“Your hip? Okay.”

“What’s wrong with getting it on my hip?”

The man shrugged and leant back, bracelets clinking, “Nothing, nothing. I just think hips are for… more personal things.” He shrugged again, “I’m Kibum, by the way.”

“Taemin,” he quickly introduced himself. “Hips are just hips. Do you have anything on yours?”

“I do,” Kibum smirked, fingers suddenly edging towards the corner of his shirt, “Ready, two seconds.” He flipped the bottom of his shirt up and Taemin eye’s caught sight of a simple black tattoo etched onto his bone. “One, two, times up.”

“A name?” Taemin asked, eyes still where the tattoo was.

“Yeah. A name.”

“Someone special?”

Kibum stood up, “Couldn’t live with them.”

“Oh,” was all Taemin said because he couldn’t really start guessing whose name it was. He didn’t know the first thing about Kibum, let alone who the special someone could have been.

“I like your hair, kid,” Kibum said, before walking towards the back of the room where a door was placed. He stopped to talk to the man giving a tattoo before carrying on. The words he’d said lingered in Taemin’s mind before he shook them out; it was his body, if he wanted a bird on his hip, he was going to get a bird on his hip.

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“This may hurt a bit at first. If it’s too uncomfortable just tell me and I’ll stop,” the man said, adjusting his gloves and turning his head to scratch his chin with his shoulder.

Taemin nodded stiffly, his fingers pressing deep into the leather chair he was lying on. His shirt was lifted to his ribs and the outline of a swallow was stencilled onto his hip. Minho, the guy who did the tattoos of ‘birds and fish and ’, rolled his eyes over Taemin’s hip again, checking it was straight before he picked up the tattoo machine and dipped the needle into ink. Taemin had chosen full colour for his swallow, blue with hints of yellow at the tips of its wings and an orange underbelly.

“Ready?” he asked, poising his hand to begin. Taemin swallowed a ball of spit and finally nodded one last time. In less than ten seconds Taemin felt the needle digging into his skin. He screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip, his fingers still grabbing hold of the leather.

“Relax, kid,” he heard Kibum say and a chair was pulled up beside him.

Minho stopped a second to dip the tip into more ink and shot a glare at Kibum, “Don’t distract me or him, Key. Nobody wants their first tattoo to be a up.”

Taemin opened one of his eyes to look up at the man with the half shaved head. “It’s okay, he can stay.”

Minho pressed the needle back to his skin, “Just stay still.”

“You look kind of young for a tattoo.” Kibum picked at the threads in his tight, black jeans as he spoke, “Such a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be marring their body so early in life.”

“I’m eighteen,” Taemin defended and winced as the needle travelled directly over the bone, “Besides, it’s only one. I don’t think I’m ever going to get them all up my neck.” He cast a look back to the man behind the counter who was leaning over a sketchpad.

“Jonghyun started early. His cousin gave him his first tattoo when he was thirteen. It was hideous, I was so happy when he finally got it covered.” He pulled his chair a little closer, the legs scraping along the dark polished floor. “Tattoos are addicting though, right Minho?” The other gave a grunt and lowered his head to make sure he he’d coloured the end of the wing completely. “I doubt this’ll be your last.”

“What was the last one you got?” Taemin queried, trying to distract his mind from the pain of his hip. It felt like glass was being rubbed on sunburnt skin.

Minho spoke up before Kibum did however, his tone playful, “A cute little key on his wrist.” Kibum huffed and flipped his arm over for Taemin to see. It was simple compared to all the over intricate pieces covered his skin. It was an old fashioned key, golden and wrapped loosely in red ribbon. “Jonghyun has a lock on his wrist,” Minho continued, “If you can put two and two together…”

“If you weren’t tattooing right now I’d hit you,” Kibum flared, and sunk into his chair.

“Oh, you two are…?” Taemin kind of guessed anyway, that kiss was enough to piece it together in his teenage mind. He also assumed that the black ink on his hip must have been something to do with the man as well.

Kibum his lips thoughtfully and smiled, “Yep, five years and counting.”

“Congrats-” Taemin stopped with a wheeze, the pain in his hip increasing.

A small laugh flowed from Kibum’s mouth, “hip tattoos hurt a whole lot and you’re not even half way down. Hold on, kid.”

Kibum left Taemin’s side to talk to a customer ten minutes later; his voice was still a good distraction from the buzzing coming from his hip. It was certainly uncomfortable, a feeling he wanted to get rid of but it wasn’t bad enough that he wanted Minho to stop. Only a little longer, he told himself.

“So, why did you want a tattoo?” Minho asked, not looking up from the design.

Taemin took a while to answer, trying to level his breathing after holding it in, “I don’t know. Just wanted it I guess.” That was true; there was no real reason behind the tattoo.

“Are you parents okay with it?”

The teen let out a breezy laugh, “They’re going to kill me.” Minho looked up this time, his large eyes filled with amusement and his tongue brushed against his smiling lips. A hot cloud of air skimmed across his hip and the hair on the back of his neck prickled.

The artist dipped his needle into the yellow ink again. “A bit of a rebel?” he joked and arm came back around and brushed Taemin’s thigh, “I like it.” Taemin grinned, but it was short lived as the needle dug back into his skin. He closed his eyes and pressed his teeth together.

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Taemin almost wanted to cry in relief when Minho announced he was done. The blood on the tissue he’d been dabbing against his hip every now and again made his stomach turn and he could already imagine the mess. He knew it was going to be red and sore, probably more unattractive than the opposite at that moment, but he’d read on the internet that it’d get better.

“Keep it covered, make sure you clean it though,” Minho explained while Taemin struggled to stand up without causing himself too much pain. He hobbled to the mirror ten steps away and held the edge of his shirt up with one hand. Minho continued to bark on about keeping it clean and knowing if it was healing properly while Taemin stood in awe. It was perfect, small and colourful (and swollen and red) against his pale skin. He wanted to touch it but held back after remembered the sharp feeling Minho’s fingers had sent through his body with a single swipe.

“It’s perfect,” Taemin said, interrupting Minho’s speech. “Thank you.” He turned around, his shirt still held up in his hand and he saw Kibum and Jonghyun glancing over to get a peek at it too.

“It’s cute,” Kibum called from his position atop the glass counter and swiftly fell to his feet to get a closer look. “Pretty,” he cooed as he bent at the waist to check the simple design.

Minho joined them by the mirror, one hand pulling the glove off the other and vice versa until his hands were free again. “The swelling should go down in the next week or so. It’ll probably peel as well; try not to pick at it. Remember to apply the ointment a few times a day,” He shot, trying to keep everything as small and direct as possible.

“Thanks again,” Taemin said and made his way over to the counter to pay. He stood a step away from the surface, careful not to bump his newly coloured hip and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Minho watched him pay before returning to his station to start cleaning up.

Kibum washed the chair down with a disinfectant wipe and as soon as the door chimed signalling Taemin’s exit he opened his mouth, “He was cute.”

Minho looked up and bobbed his head, a grin appearing on his face, “Had a nice set of hips too.”

“When do you think he’ll be back?” Kibum enquired cheekily, throwing the wipes into a small trash can on his way back to Jonghyun.

“I’ll give it a month, tops.” Minho guessed. He took his machine to the back to replace the needle.

“You owe me fifty dollars if he doesn’t show,” Jonghyun shouted.

Minho smirked to himself, “Deal.”

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▌ Last words; Well, there's the first part :)
It doesn't really have much in it, huh? It'll pick up in the next, and possibly final, part. I just didn't want to drive straight in.

♥∞ HummingBird