15. Chapter 15

The tattoo shop was like a second home to me. Sophia, a lovely middle-aged woman who had a different hair colour every time I saw her, had been responsible for almost all of my tattoos. She had run ink through my skin, across my chest and arms. When Sophia was working, magic happened.

So, it was even nicer to walk into her small Bristol studio with Arthur's hand in mine.

"Something's changed here," she grinned as she pulled me into a hug, then held out an arm for Arthur.

"Something has," I agreed. I could practically feel Arthur's blush under the attention, but he kept a hand on the small of my back as the embrace ended. "The design is beautiful, your best yet," I said.

"I'm glad you like it. Though I'm surprised Arthur didn't run a mile."

Arthur grinned at her. "I've already got ‘I love Bradley Tyler'tattooed on me in neon ink, but I'm not allowed to tell anyone where."

Sophia laughed. "Come on through, both of you."

We entered the back of the studio, where Sophia had all of her supplies in place. Every wall was covered in pictures of her signature monochrome tattoos. She pre-sanitised every surface before asking me to sit down in the pleather chair and positioned my arm just so. She sanitised that too, used a razor to shave off any excess hairs and finally applied the stencil to the single bare spot on my forearm. It was weird to know that this little section of my life had been tied up so neatly despite everything else.

"Still a wimp about pain?" Sophia asked.

"A bit."

"You are a boxer. This is your twentieth tattoo session with me. When are you going to woman up?" Sophia teased.

"Punch me in the face, I'm fine. Jab me with a needle, yeah, it stings a bit."

Arthur, sat in a chair in the corner of the room, snorted. "When he had a back tooth removed he had to be sedated because he didn't want needles in his mouth," he told her.

Sophia tutted as she smoothed out the transfer paper. "This one is going to sting a bit, getting so close to the wrist. But I promise I'll be gentle." She turned to Arthur. "Can I get you anything whilst you wait? I have some magazines out in the foyer, but I think they're about five years old."

"No, it's fine…Does that iPad have ProCreate?"

Sophia looked over at the tablet on the counter, which was switched on and showing an in-progress sketch. "Knock yourself out."

Arthur scrambled off the chair to grab the iPad and then sat down with it, as excited as a kid at Christmas.

"What's ProCreate?" I asked Sophia.

"Digital art, darling. Now does that look okay to you?" She held up my arm. There was a purple imprint of the design on my skin, guidelines for her to follow as she drew.

"Perfect, thanks." I only glanced at my arm, where normally I'd have examined every bit of it to make sure it was just right. I was more focused on where Arthur sat, digital stylus in hand as it swiped across the screen. I couldn't see what he was drawing, but he looked up every now and then at one of the tattoo designs on the walls and looked back down.

"Hold still," Sophia scolded. "Unless you want words misspelled."

I hadn't even noticed that she had started. I'd been so focused on Arthur. "I didn't know you could draw," I told him. The unasked question hung in the air.

"Little bit," he muttered, looking back down at the iPad. It wasn't like him to be cagey.

"How often do you draw?"

"Not so much anymore," he said quietly. He really was keeping this close to his chest.

"Am I working you too hard? Do you need more time to yourself?"

"Nope."

"Arthur."My tone surprised even me. It was like when my mother had known I was keeping my school bullying from her.

"Bradley." Arthur looked me in the eye, his expression stern.

"If you have a question, fucking ask him," Sophia said. "This tension in your arm is making it very hard to do my job to my usual standard."

"Oh, sorry." I did my best to relax before looking back to Arthur. Arguing with him was helpful, in its own way. The more I focused on him, the less I could feel the sting as a million tiny needles jabbed ink into me. "Why don't you draw any more?"

"First day on the job, my iPad got crushed in my suitcase," Arthur confessed. "Haven't replaced it since. I draw sometimes on paper, but art supplies—"

"Are an expensive hobby," said Sophia. "You're underpaying the poor bugger."

"Shit. Am I?"

"No."Arthur looked close to tears, and I didn't want to push him whilst I was under orders to stay still. I didn't know what these broken-down emotional barriers would mean in the long run, but I knew I had to shoulder the good and the bad of a relationship with this man. So, we sat in an incredibly awkward silence as Sophia continued her work.

As much as it made the sting worse, there was something therapeutic about focusing in on what she was doing, watching as she created art on my body by mutilating the skin.

After what felt like forever, Sophia stood and cracked her neck. "My work here is done," she said. She grabbed a piece of tissue, doused it with antiseptic cream, and wiped off the excess ink.

"Beautiful," I said. "Arthur, come and look."

He set down the iPad and walked over to where I was sitting. "It's so pretty," he said. "Thank you. For telling me." He kissed my forehead.

"Wow," Sophia admonished. "If Bradley's not paying you enough, you can become my apprentice. The pay will be even worse, but damn." She'd picked up the iPad whilst we were both goggling over the tattoo, and was admiring whatever Arthur had drawn.

"Can I see?" I asked, looking to Arthur. There was a moment's hesitation, but then he nodded and stepped aside to allow Sophia to pass the device to me.

The drawing on screen seemed to copy much of Sophia's style—just black and white with criss-cross shading, but held a more contemporary feel. Two boxing gloves, both pointing opposite ways. But they weren't held together by string. It looks like a traditional love spoon, criss-crossing over itself in the shape of a heart, binding the gloves close. "You drew this in an hour?" asked Sophia.

"Half," confessed Arthur. He swiped over to another picture, this one a crude pencil sketch: one figure hunched over another, tattooing lines into their skin.

"This is me?" I asked.

"Who else?" Despite the short time he'd had, it was beautiful.

"You're so talented. I can't believe you've let this lapse."

"I've not…" Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's more complicated than that."

"How? You have a hobby that you're good at and enjoyed, a hobby I've not seen you touch in three years. How is that complicated? Why is it complicated?"

"You wouldn't understand," Arthur said matter-of-factly. Before I could respond, he was turning and walking out of the room. A second later, I heard the little tinkle of the shop door to confirm he had walked out onto the street.

"Go," said Sophia, hastily smearing moisturiser and wrapping my tattoo in plastic. "I'm not a relationship counsellor, but I'm not having a man break up with you the minute you finally get your commitment to him tattooed on your skin in a language he understands. Laser is more painful than the tattoo."

"Thanks, Sophia," I said, handing her back the iPad. "And thank you for your work today. It really is beautiful."

She smiled and held open the door. I walked through the front of the shop and out to the street, where Arthur was leaning against the car door with a sour look on his face.

"I'm driving," I said. "Pass me those keys."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but threw them to me anyway. He knew what was coming.

"We need to talk," I said.

"About?" Arthur wouldn't even look at me as he got into the car.

"You know what. Why you're not pursuing hobbies, things you love. Maybe this is on me, but I've just realised that I don't know what you like to do. All I've ever known you to do is your job." I turned on the ignition. I already knew in the back of my mind where we were going, and it wasn't back to my parents' house. Not yet.

"I watch films with you, I cook." Arthur's tone was pointed.

"All in service of me. Of your job. Are you telling me you stopped drawing because I'm just so overwhelming? Am I working you too hard?"

"Bradley, I think we've established that I chose to sit down with you every night was because I was harbouring a crush the size of Belgium." Arthur looked out of the window as we made our way out of Bristol and onto the dual carriageway that ran through the city. "I worked for you nine to six. Any other time was my choice."

"Then you dropped your hobbies for me?"

Arthur was silent for a second. "…no," he finally managed. "That's not it."

"Do you want to tell me what it is, then?" I asked. "Because I'm coming up blank. If you want to have secrets…"

"I don't want to have secrets," Arthur muttered, cutting across me. "But there are some things that I just don't think you'd understand."

"Let me try." I risked putting one hand over his thigh, and a second later his came to rest on top of mine.

"You know how I always say you pay me enough…well, that's true. If I kept every penny you paid me, I would have enough money to get my own place. Even have a couple of months off."

"So that's what's going on, you're leaving?"

"No, stupid. I'm trying to tell you something, so please let me talk." I couldn't see the expression Arthur was giving me as I kept my eyes on the road, but I could imagine its ferocity. "I told you about my parents not having much money. Well…I do my best by them, you know. But the more they know I have, the more they think they have a right to take."

It had always seemed difficult for Arthur to talk about his parents, and I remembered that he'd been reluctant to invite his father to my last boxing match. "Do they ask you for a lot?"

Arthur laughed, but it was completely hollow. "When I started working for you, I was three grand into my overdraft and struggling to pay my landlord. In the last three years, on a more than adequate salary, I've managed to pay off my overdraft, just about. So I've gone from less than nothing to….nothing, I guess."

"Shit, Arthur. Why don't you just stop sending them money? " I asked. He snatched his hand away, and I immediately regretted my choice of words.

"That's why I said you wouldn't understand. Would you ever deny your parents?" he asked, and my moment of hesitation was all the answer he needed. "Exactly. You've never needed to, have you?"

"I've always done my best to impress them," I countered.

"But that's not the same. When you've got money, your parents are your parents. They provide for you, no matter what. You get knocked out in the ring, your mum throws the doors open for you and moves you back home. You could ask your parents for anything now, and they would give it to you. With my parents, they did the bare minimum for me not to get taken away by Social Services and once I hit sixteen, our relationships reversed. Half of my university debt is because they were asking me for money. For the last ten years, they have needed me. And I won't deny them that help. Because one day, I might deny them when they truly need it."

"You don't think that letting them make their own mistakes would help them learn?" I asked.

Arthur was quiet for a moment. I indicated off the motorway and drove towards the shopping park.

"Maybe," he said. "But would you ever take that risk with your parents? That if you didn't help them just once, and they lost their house? Or couldn't eat?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I knew that whatever I did, my parents would always be there to take me in. I'd never had to consider the reverse—never would.

"So, you couldn't afford to replace your iPad because…you've been supporting your parents?"

Arthur's hand found mine again, even as I shifted gear. "I couldn't do anything else," he said quietly. "You can tell me you think it's stupid. I don't think it'll change anything, but if it makes you feel better—"

"I admire you," I cut in. "I don't know that I could do the same in your situation. But that's what makes you the person you are. You're selfless to a fault, always putting other people first."

I pulled the car into the big car park for the shopping centre, and Arthur's eyes went wide. "What are we doing here? Do you need something?"

"In a manner of speaking," I said, unclipping both our seatbelts and not giving him time to respond before I jumped out of the car. He followed, as I knew he would, as I made my way across the car park and into the mall. I only noticed that I was alone when I stepped into the electronics shop.

"What are you waiting for? Come on," I said, gesturing for him to follow.

"This better be because you need a new phone," he said, hovering in the entrance.

"Nope," I made a beeline for a wall display of tablets of different sizes and specifications.

"Which one?" I asked, gesturing at the various options.

"For what?"

"For you to draw on."

Arthur's face darkened. "I already told you I can't afford it, Bradley. This isn't funny."

"But I can," I told him. "I want to treat you."

"You…you can't." He bit his lip. seeming to stave off tears.

"Arthur, I'm not threatening you. I just want to do something good for you." I was exasperated. How was I supposed to navigate this emotional minefield?

"I…I just, I've joked before about how I'm living off your time by living with you. I don't want that to become reality. I don't want to rely on you like my parents do on me. And I definitely don't want to take advantage of your generosity."

"You're the most generous person I have ever met, Arthur. You've given your life to this job, to me. I just want to give you something you deserve. Isn't that fair?"

After a brief hesitation, Arthur nodded, though the stricken expression hadn't left his face.

"Which of these is best for your drawing?" I asked again. Arthur pointed at the cheapest tablet: a little plastic thing that looked like it was falling apart even as a display unit on the wall. I pointed at another, much closer to the expensive end of the scale. "Isn't that the one you were using at Sophia's? Wouldn't that be better for you?"

Arthur grimaced. "I guess…"

"What's really bothering you about it? You bought yourself the best phone to do your job. You've helped me spend thousands on Christmas presents for my family and friends."

"Because that's all for you!" Arthur threw up his hands in defeat. "I would never spend your money in a way that outwardly benefits me, and I don't want to start now. Even my fancy work phone only has apps for work."

"And is that all we are?" I asked. "Colleagues?"

"No," said Arthur, finally without a hint of uncertainty.

I took his hand and held it in mine. "Then can I treat my boyfriend? Please?"

Finally, that earned me a little smile. "Okay…and, thank you."

"Pick what you like, you've seen my bank account. And if you think a better model will help you to do work more efficiently too…"

Arthur nodded. "Fine. I'll get the same one as Sophia. And a pencil too."

"Good. Get whatever you need, love." I held the few items he grabbed, but he still looked guilty as he put them into my arms.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, when he was finished grabbing what he needed.

"I love you. Of course, I'm sure."

"Thank you." Arthur finally gave what seemed to be a proper, genuine smile. "I promise, one day, I'm going to treat you too."

"I'll hold you to it," I said. I paid up, and we asked back hand-in-hand to the car. "Is it okay with you if we go home?"

"I didn't have any plans," Arthur said. "I'll let your mum know that we'll be there for dinner."

"No, I mean my home," I clarified. "You were right, earlier. My parents would take me in no matter what. But I want to be closer to the gym. I need to stand on my own two feet again."

"Then let's go home." Arthur smiled at me, and then stretched up on his tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. I knew that if he and I could figure our shit out, we'd be kings of the fucking world.