A pit formed in Ollie's stomach,
"I hadn't… really thought that far." he swallowed, fiddling with his fingers, "All of this is really spare-of-the-moment, you know?"
That was much more than he was willing to admit about his current situation, and he hadn't really said anything. He paused in thought for a moment, then finally made eye contact with the man.
"Yes, I'm sure this is what I want. You only live once, right?" he smiled weakly
Mars just stared at him for a minute, not saying anything. Did he think the guy was crazy? A little. Was he all for it? Definitely. He just smiled and shook his head. "I haven't seen someone live by that phrase harder since Ella wore that silver jumpsuit to her sister's wedding to tell her her fiance was cheating on her. Got into a fistfight with the bastard, oh it was a mess. Seriously, you should've seen it, she would've gotten kicked out if she hadn't won. I would know, she brought me as her plus one. Me! Oi, I thought she was gonna drag me in there with her."
Mars couldn't help but laugh at the memory. The 70s had been a time. He stood from his chair, flicking his hair out of his face as he motioned for Ollie to follow him back. "You got a name, kid?" Kid. He had to stop doing that. It was gonna get him in trouble one of these days.
He blinked, slightly taken aback by the sudden spiel,
"Um- Oleander. Like the flower." he paused,
"My name is Oleander."
Ollie slipped into the back of the shop, bright lights burning his eyes slightly. He adjusted to the lamps before admiring the different pictures adorning the wall. Frames of what he assumed were clients sat neatly in a grid pattern, the newer ones from a week ago, and ones that went as far back as the 80s. Must be a family business, he hummed to himself, eyes studying the grainy texture of the older images.
"Oleander. How pretty. Do you mind if I call you Ollie? As pretty as the name is, it's a bit of a mouthful and I don't wanna stumble every time I try to talk to you." He chuckled, readjusting one of the pictures of one of his first clients before settling onto his rolling chair and giving it a spin.
"I'm Mars, by the way. Forgot to mention that. Yes, like the planet. No, that wasn't the intention. My mother was obsessed with mythology and wanted to give her son a strong name but Ares seemed a bit on the nose so she went with the Roman translation, Mars. She'd call me Tyr occasionally since she absolutely adored Norse mythology."
"Yes, Ollie's fine," he gave a sort of squished, closed mouth smile, awkwardly climbing into the chair. He actively chose against bringing up the use of past-tense with his mother, though he'd hesitantly admit it did pique his interest slightly.
"Mars is a nice name, I love space and stuff." He scrunched his nose abit at the statement, internally scolding himself for the nervous small talk. He leant back in the chair and pushed his shirt a few more inches open then it was before, considering he had completely forgot to button it up before.
"So-um, how does this work exactly?"
Mars began prepping his materials, making sure to keep the picture well away from any ink. "Well, first there'll be a stencil made with a temporary ink so that we can make sure the placement and size are right, it looks okay, all that fun stuff. Then we get you prepped and give the tattoo. It's really not that complicated of a process."
He shrugged, taking another once over of Ollie. He seemed kinda…jumpy. Though maybe that wasn't the right word for it. He was nervous for his first tattoo too so it wasn't like he could blame him but this was different. He just couldn't place it, like he couldn't place a lot of things about this guy. Huh…weird.
"I see. Well, whenever you're ready." Ollie squirmed slightly under the mans gaze,
Was it that obvious there was something wrong with him?
He didn't think he looked too bad, maybe the bags under his eyes and the obvious everyso often stiflied yawns gave him away.
The cool air in the shop was a nice contrast to the burning heat that had surround him outside. If it wasn't for the blinding ceiling lights, he might've thought it'd be cosy.
Mars snapped on a pair of black nitrile gloves and got to work. He laid the drawing out, ready to make his stencil before pausing for a second. He chewed on his lip before looking back over at Ollie. "Do you mind taking the shirt off? I know it's a little cold in here but it'll be easier to work without it and I don't want to get ink on it. It seems like such a nice shirt, I can't be staining it."
Don't make it weird, don't make it weird, you've had countless shirtless people in your chair before why are you suddenly being so weird about this one guy? Get it together Mars, you're acting like some rookie. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, like that would bring him back into focus.
Ollie nodded slowly before carefully slipping his shoulders out from the patterned shirt, scrunching it up and tugging it into his lap. He leant back into the chair once more and held his chin upwards, giving Mars more access to his bare skin. Squinting his eyes lightly, he let his body melt carefully into the leather chair.
Sure, he was nervous, but he's been nervous most his life, so whats so different now? Why now did his stomach turn when the older man lightly placed his fingers along the scar, pulling on the skin ever so slightly? Why now did his mouth feel dry as the rubber material of the gloves gripped to the thin see-through hairs the lined his body?
Mars ran his hands lightly over the scarred skin, just trying to get a sense of scale as his mind started to wander again. I know these kinds of scars. They look old but he doesn't seem much older than me. Wonder how long it's been. "Why Oleander?" He just about slapped himself. What kind of question is that? Let the guy have his name, dammit!
"I-I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant, what made you pick it? Just a love of the flower or is it something more?" I mean, if the overwhelming smell of roses and lavender doesn't give it away, I think you have a thing for flowers. But it's…nice. I don't mind it.
Ollie's lips quivered upwards,
"Yeah, flowers basically," he whispered,
"Babaanne used to have an Oleander bush in her garden, and we were never allowed to touch it 'cause of how poisonous it was,"
he took a deep breath as cool gloves grazed his skin once more,
"The flowers were always so pretty, but I couldn't have it, no matter how much I wanted it-" he stuttered over his next words,
"Sort like- how I felt about myself. No matter how much I wanted to be different, it was always going to be out of reach."
Ollie's lips quivered, this time downwards.
"Well, considering you're sitting here getting what you're getting, I don't know if I agree with you on that part." Mars offered a half smile, rolling himself back over to the drawing to reorient things in his head. "Babaanne, that's…Turkish, right? I'm rusty with my translations so excuse any inaccuracies." He chuckled. He'd watched the dawn of language, of course he knew all of them. But the being rusty part was true, he hadn't used his extensive language knowledge in almost a century.
"Why marigolds then? Why not oleanders? I mean, I understand wanting to use something that comes on a stem like this, but if it holds such significance to you, why not use it?"
"Yes, it's Turkish, I lived in Turkey till I was five, and then we moved out to the states for some reason. It means 'father's mother'."
Ollie lifted himself off the seat slightly with his hands, before plopping back down again. He wasn't much of a talker, especially to strangers, but something about this man made him wanna reciet poetry to an audience of gods,
"Well, to be honest, I chose marigolds for a few reasons, but mostly because I thought it might be weird to have something im named after tattooed on my skin," He smiles wryly,
"But I think that might've been me overthinking. It's okay though, I love marigolds too, they have such interesting symbolism."
Mars just shrugged with a slight smile. "To each their own I suppose. Can't say the same for myself though." He pulled up his right sleeve to expose the full galaxy on his arm. "I made sure to have Mars specifically put in there. Not entirely sure why since, again, that's not the reason I was given the name but eh, I thought it looked cool." He pointed out the small red planet just a few inches above his elbow.
"Though I can understand the symbolism point. People always get really confused when they see I have a full sleeve down one arm and then just a singular tattoo on the other." He pushed up his left sleeve to expose the old English font of the quote he had decided to make his life. "Yes, it's in Latin. Yes, I'm that much of a nerd."
Ollie smirked,
"Latin's a nice language, but it's kinda hard for me to understand. So many words that mean so many different things, I have a hard enough time with English as it is."
He turned his eyes from Mars' face to the tattoos littering his arms. He noted the different swirls and stars that painted his skin, then blinked a few times after they started moving,
"What made you get into tattoos?"
Mars sat and thought for a second before answering. It'd been so long since he heard that question, he'd just about forgotten the answer. "Because I find something poetically ironic in wanting to immortalize something in something finite. The human body is so fragile and soft, yet we brand our skin with words and images in hopes of making them last beyond our feeble memories or bodies."
He had to bite his tongue to avoid saying too much. It was…mostly true. The only thing that wasn't was the "we" in his statements. He wasn't human, never considered himself to be. But it was true, he found the motive behind tattoos absolutely fascinating. "But the heart is a fickle thing. To want to remember something beyond what the mind is capable of. I find it fascinating, truly."
"I never really thought about it like that," he hummed.
"I always see it more as like, a decoration, I guess. Like pretty pictures to make you sorta think a bit, but you're right, most tattoos are reminders of times past."
Ollie watch as the man brandished a small pencil, for what he assumed was the stencil. He turned his head to the left slightly and spotted a mirror, scanning his dishevelled looks. He hadn't really given himself much time to get prepared for this, he had left work in a hurry just to come to this little shop, one he passed every day on his way to work, for a tattoo he wasn't even thinking about yesterday. It had all happened a lot faster than he had planned.
Mars worked on the stencil, pointedly not thinking about the warmth of Ollie's skin under his fingertips as he did so. "So, Ollie my mysterious customer, tell me about yourself. Cause right now I've got a hodge podge of information. You're Turkish, you had gender-affirming surgery I'm gonna hazard a guess and say…at least a year ago? If the healing is anything to go by, that is. And you smell like a garden so I assume you work as a florist or something dealing with a lot of flowers. Or I'm totally wrong and you just like really heavy floral perfume. Who knows."
He flashed a quick smile before turning back to his work. "Don't get me wrong, I don't mind it. It's just like this wall of fragrance. Though, to be fair, it's a lot nicer than some of the other clients that have walked through that door there. I'll take flowers over charcoal and sweat any day."
Despite his best judgement, Ollie let a small giggle pass through his lips,
"Um, my names Oleander, but you already know that. Im 20 years old, I was born in Turkey but I've spent most of my life in Spokane. I work at a florist just down the road, the one owned by that old, grey lady at speaks like she has pizza dough in her mouth-" he grinned,
"And uhhhh- I've always wanted a dog, but it feels irresponsible to get one now, I think." he paused,
"Or a cat."
"Oh, I have a cat! He's the shop cat! Sweet little thing. Sassy little shit but I adore him. He's around here somewhere, probably asleep on the windowsill in my office." He glanced around to see if he could catch sight of the black cat he'd taken in but the creature was nowhere to be found.
"He was a stray I found outside in the rain while locking up one night. Scared the shit out of me, lemme tell ya. But now he's mine and he lives here. Named him Crom after the Irish god of death since he just about gave me a heart attack and my last client of the day had been Irish."
"Crom," he repeated,
"That's such a cute name with such a sinister meaning,"
He didn't say much else after that, letting the stranger… or, acquaintance, now, he supposed, carry the conversation. Instead, he chose to focus on the ticklish tracing of the pencil on his skin, somehow making him more tired than he already is. He closed his eyes lightly and relaxed into the chair, his vision burning with the relief of the darkness behind his eyelids. They sat nicely like that for a second, before the moment was rudely interrupted by the jerking of Ollie's right shoulder,
"God-Im so sorry-"
"Ah don't worry about it, not the first time someone's fallen asleep in that chair. Just try not to jerk like that while under the needle and we'll be all good." He chuckled softly. "I noticed you looked a little tired when you came in but I figured that was just my eyes playing tricks on me."
Maybe that was what was throwing Mars off about Ollie. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. Who knows, maybe he hadn't. Or maybe it'd just been a rough few nights. Who was he to judge other people's sleeping habits?
"Y-yeah- yeah, okay, I won't. Promise." He whispered that last word, settling back into the chair and keeping his eyes glued to the panels in the ceiling.
The sudden jerking wasn't really a "new" symptom per-say. It had been happening for about a week now, but no longer that the other symptoms; sleepless nights, whispering voices, the dark tall man that stands in his room and stares all night. Every night he tells himself that man isn't there, and every night his eyes get closer to his shivering form, demanding something, Ollie just wasn't sure what.
He squeezed his eyes shut and then shot them back open again, trying to focus them on the specks of dust that littered the ceiling.
Mars paused in his tracing, tilting his head curiously at Ollie. "Do you need me to turn the lights down? If they're bothering you I can dim them." He couldn't quite explain the odd feeling in his chest that gripped him at seeing Ollie so uncomfortable but it was there and it wasn't going away.
It was like a rock had lodged itself in the space between his heart and lungs, squeezing uncomfortably whenever his heart pumped. It was…weird. Really weird. He hadn't felt like this in his entire time on Earth, what was it about him that was suddenly changing that?
"Yes, if you wouldn't mind…" Ollie's voice cracked softly, and he mentally cursed himself for the sudden change in mood.
This was partially why he didn't go out of his way to socialise. What started as a joyful conversation had turned awkward by his own hand, as it had many times. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and blamed the water building in his eyes on the fact he had yet to blink.
"Sorry." He whispered again, barely audible.
"Nah, don't worry about it. I usually keep them lower cause you wouldn't believe how many hangover tattoos I do but y'know, working in that low light ain't good for the eyes so I cranked them up. Honestly, they were kinda giving me a headache so thanks for giving me a reason to turn them back down." He dimmed the lights, sighing in relief as he rubbed his eyes. "Ah, my retinas burn."
He blinked hard a couple of times before going back to finish up his stencil. "Anyway, where was I? Something, something, oh, Penny chopped her hair off and got a head tattoo, right. I swear to you, I have never and will never meet a woman as insane as she was." It's no wonder she died of a cocaine overdose in the 60s, she was off her rocker.
Ollie nodded along slowly, still caught in his thoughts. His finger traced his right thigh, up and down, just like his Babaanne had he was little.
It was a stupid thought to have, the feeling of self-worth slip lightly through his fingertips as he stopped to consider the reason he was ever put on this earth, all within the span of a few seconds.
An "overreaction", his anne would call it, then she would smack him over for being so silly.
"You're as unique as the petal of a flower," Babaanne would whisper to him, wiping the tears from his face. He mirrored her past movements at that moment, swiping away the tear that rolled down his cheek while Mars was distracted.
Mars paused in his rambling, scanning over Ollie's face. That rock was still in his chest, like his heart knew something was still wrong but he couldn't put his finger on what. He hooked a finger under Ollie's chin, forcing him to look Mars in the eyes. "Hey, you doing okay? I've been told I'm a great listener when I finally shut my mouth."
There was something wrong. But Mars had no idea what it was and, frankly, it was none of his business to know. Ollie was literally a stranger that had walked into his shop ten minutes ago, he wasn't privy to his life details. "You don't have to tell me but sometimes having an outside opinion can make you feel better."
"I'm just-" he took a quick, shuddered breath,
"It just hasn't been a good week."
While that wasn't technically a lie, It was certainly a gross understatement. The past week had been one of the worse since Babaanne's death.
"Sorry for crying, shit- this so embarrassing. The tattoo hasn't even started yet." he let a wet chuckle slip out between suppressed sobs,
"I'm sorry," the phrase was repeated for the umpteenth time,
"This has just been so fast, I haven't had a moment to take it in. Let's just- get this over with so I can cross it off the list."
"Hey, don't apologize. It's not your fault that your week has been crap and I don't judge you for that. Trust me, there have been blood, sweat, and tears in this chair, you don't have to worry." He offered a reassuring smile before letting Ollie's head drop and moving to prep his gun.
"You said list. What, is getting a tattoo a bucket list item for you?" Bucket lists were another thing that just fascinated Mars. A list of things you want to do in the time after you can go out on your own and before you die. In comparison to his lifespan, it was the blink of an eye. Such a small amount of time yet so much to do.