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“Hello, can I help ymmmmgh?”
The (un)fortunately very attractive customer didn’t seem to notice that his own appearance had taken away Apollo’s ability to speak clearly. “Yeah, hi, I’m here for a… consultation?”
Apollo checked his list. “Clay?”
“That’s me.” He smiled, though Apollo could see a bit of nervousness underneath.
“Then let’s get to it.” Apollo led the gorgeous newcomer back, past the area where Franziska was at work on her own client, to the room he preferred to use.
The nervousness made itself even plainer in Clay’s timid shuffle to a seat. “I, uh, don’t really have a design picked out or anything.”
At least, when Clay was seated, Apollo would be able to focus less on the fact that the client was so much taller than himself, and instead on the perfect size of his arms or the adorable lopsidedness of his smile or his strikingly dark eyes or damn it damn this damn damn damn damn damn Apollo had promised himself he wouldn’t crush on his clients but hadn’t known at the time that any of them would be this perfect.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Apollo said after probably just a few seconds too long. “Do you have an idea of where you want the tattoo to go?”
“I was thinking my arm, but I was also thinking my shoulders, or my chest, or my legs, maybe.”
“And do you know what sort of concept you want it to be?”
“Space.”
“Space. Let’s try to narrow that down. Were you thinking stars, constellations, the moon, any planets in particular?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.”
“Look.” Clay folded his hands. “I’ve, uh, wanted to be an astronaut all my life. And I’m not sure if it’ll happen anymore. So I want something… If I get up there, it’ll be like I brought a piece of space up with me. And if I don’t, it’ll be like I have some of it with me here anyway.”
It sounded insane. It sounded romantic. Most importantly, it sounded like impossibly high standards.
“Can I tell you something?” Apollo smiled at him. “I’m actually hoping to become a defense attorney.”
Clay clutched his chest, which struck Apollo as disproportionate surprise. “A defense attorney? Really?”
“I’ve wanted to since I was a kid,” Apollo explained. “Someone I really look up to was a defense attorney. But, it turns out, so were some very fashionable names like Edgeworth and Fey, and now everyone wants to be a defense attorney. They’ve opened an entire high school for it. I’m interning with an office, by night, but there’s a queue for the bar exam.” A somewhat involuntary sigh. “On top of that, they’ve made the exam itself more selective than ever, and even if I get that far, I might never get hired. So…” He indicated the tattoo shop around him. “Here I am.”
“Wow. Go figure.” Clay still looked almost winded from the surprise, for whatever reason. “Kind of the same situation I’m in, in a way. Only difference is there’s not enough interest, instead of too much. Only one place would ever be able to send me up.”
“The space center near here, right?” Apollo asked. “I’ve been a few times.”
“Have you?” Clay lit up.
Apollo straightened his posture. “You’re not the only one interested in space.”
“Feels like it sometimes. Usually when I say I’m trying to be an astronaut, or mention the space center, people look at me like I’m already from another planet. And if GYAXA ever even sends up another crew, it’s gonna be selective as hell.” Clay emphasized the point by huffing air out of his mouth. “It sucks having a lifelong dream and not knowing if you’ll even get a shot at it.”
“Don’t I know it,” Apollo said. For half an instant, he’d been engaged enough to forget that he was on the clock. “Well, we should probably figure out your tattoo.” He unfurled a pad of paper and prepared to get to work. “Why don’t I sketch out a few things and see how you feel about them?”
For the rest of the hour, Apollo drew rough ideas, and Clay hemmed and hawed and asked him to try something else. Apollo had filled out three pages with sketches before Clay realized that his lunch break was nearly ending.
“You came here on your lunch break?” Apollo asked with concern.
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
Clay was blinking at him innocently.
“No, it’s not.” Apollo waved him off. “Sorry we couldn’t get anything concrete figured out.”
“As long as I can get another consultation with you, it’s fine.” Clay grinned back at him. “I’ll call as soon as I can.”
It had been the least productive consultation Apollo had ever experienced.
And the best one by a long shot.
***
“Another consultation?” Franziska asked accusatorily, looking up from her client. “What was wrong with the first one?”
“Nothing! Nothing. Just…” Apollo felt immediately on the defensive. “We didn’t figure out the design he wanted, so we’re going to give it another shot.”
“It is certainly not unheard of…” Her expression was one of concern. “However, you in particular are quite efficient at finding a design a client wants. Is he giving you undue trouble?”
“Not…” Apollo thought. “Not undue trouble. I think it’s pretty much due.”
“Hmph.” She returned to her tattooing. “If he is being too foolish for you to wrangle, I will handle him.”
“I don’t want you to do that.” Apollo had a lot of respect for his superior. He also knew that she might very well break Clay beyond repair, especially if she was working with a wrong impression. “He’s not a difficult customer or anything, I actually had fun just now.”
“…I’ll defer to your judgment,” she told him. “This time. But if he tries to get a third consultation, he becomes my client and not yours. Understood?”
“Of course,” Apollo said. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll have a design picked out for him in no time!”
***
“Me again,” Clay said cheerfully as Apollo came out front to greet him.
And as much as Apollo wasn’t about to complain at seeing him again, there was something a bit more attention-grabbing accompanying him.
“Flowers?” Apollo asked.
To be at least a little more specific, a small bouquet with a few very expressive (and pointy) pink-and-white flowers.
“Yeah, we had a few extra lilies, and the consultation is free, so I wanted to thank you somehow.” He grinned his sweet grin and held them out to Apollo. “They’ll at least be nice to look at for a little while.”
“Do you work at a florist?” Apollo asked, trying to keep his composure.
“Did I not mention that?” Clay shrugged. “Yeah, that’s where I’m working right now. Pays the bills, I guess.”
Apollo was sure he was bright red. He’d never been given flowers before, never really thought it would be for him and Clay made it sound like it was just incidental, the convenient way to show thanks. But Apollo was well aware of the romantic connotations of the gesture, and was also very much aware of the boiling feeling in his chest.
“Thank you…” he finally said as he accepted the bouquet.
“You probably don’t have anything to put them in, huh?” Clay backed up. “I have a little vase in my car, I can grab it real quick.”
“That’s fine,” Apollo said. “You know where my office is.”
The nice thing about Clay retrieving said vase was that Apollo had a moment to collect himself (and incidentally admire the lilies). He might have even looked normal again by the time he and Clay sat down for consultation number two.
We’ve gotta get it right this time, Apollo thought. He’s the best client ever, and I can’t let Ms. von Karma have him.
“So, I was thinking about it…” Clay brought out his phone. “I might want a tattoo of the hole.”
We’re doomed. “What… what hole.”
Clay showed Apollo an image on his phone – one Apollo recognized, the best image available of a black hole in space.
Oh, we’re so, so doomed.
“Don’t you think it’ll look nice?” Clay asked him.
“It might look how you want for a little bit,” Apollo said. “But it’ll fade, and it might not look great then.”
“I’ll come back here and have you touch it up, then.”
And Apollo was probably right back to red. “Which I’d be happy to do, if I’m still here. But I want you to have something that’ll look good no matter what. Some designs fade more gracefully than others. If you want a tattoo of a black hole, I know for a fact I can come up with something you won’t regret later.”
“Hmm…” Clay was sullen. “I like this one, though.”
“I’m not letting you get away with a bad design,” Apollo said. “There are a few customers where I’ll let it slide, but you’re not one of them.”
“I’m special?” Clay brightened up at whiplash-inducing speed. He was officially as weird as he was cute.
“You’re the first customer to give me flowers. Oh! That reminds me.” Apollo popped to his feet. “I ordered too much pizza. Do you want a slice? It’s just pepperoni.”
“Oh! Sure.”
Apollo went about it. In truth, pepperoni was not his normal order, but it was basic enough that Clay would statistically be willing to eat it. Apollo had found himself worried about Clay skipping his lunch hour and had already chided himself more than once for getting domestic over a man he’d spoken to for one hour.
“You know, there’s an advantage we have here,” Apollo said, handing the slice on a paper plate to Clay. “If we have more than one design you like, you can always get a second tattoo.”
“Oh!” Clay looked a little surprised. “Hadn’t thought of that. To be honest, I had only planned on getting the one for now.”
That’s what they all say. “It’s just something to think about. Saying no to a design doesn’t have to be saying no to it forever. But for now, why don’t I sketch a black hole piece for you and see what you think of it?”
***
It felt like no time at all had passed before Franziska appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed.
Apollo’s heart sank. They hadn’t picked out a design. Not remotely.
“I think we might be out of time,” Apollo croaked out.
“Oh, shit, you’re right!” Clay shot to his feet. “Well, can we try this again in a few days?”
“You can book another appointment, yeah.” Apollo stayed put. And now I can’t even try to lie and say we decided on something. “Can you see yourself out? I need to, uh, talk to my colleague.”
“Oh. Alright.” Clay smiled and waved. “Well, see you. Thanks for the pizza.”
He left. Franziska was unmoved in any sense, staring directly into Apollo’s soul even when he wasn’t meeting her eyes.
Franziska was a hardass, descended as she was from a long line of tattoo artists, and claiming as she did that tattooing was the only “true” art, the only form that required the artist to get everything exactly right, every time. Apollo had never known her to budge on anything.
“Listen,” he said. “I know I said this would be the last one. But Clay has a lot of ideas, and they’re all good. You can look through my sketches. His tattoo is important to him, and I want to get it right, okay? Just, please let me do this. I’m willing to take a dock in pay if I have to. Please?”
She quirked an eyebrow.
“Are those flowers, Apollo Justice?”
“Huh?” Apollo swung in his seat to where the lilies sat in their vase. “Y-yeah. He, uh, he brought them.”
When he turned back to look at her again, Apollo bore witness to something truly rare: Franziska von Karma was smiling.
“The pepperoni pizza is quite clearly not your favorite,” she told him. “If you insist on offering a client free food, you should at least allow yourself to order your usual regardless. If you order pepperoni for your next consultation with Mr. Terran, you’re fired. Understood?”
Relief washed over Apollo. “Understood. Thank you, Ms. von Karma.”
“Don’t thank me until you’ve secured your job.” Her signature scowl managed to return, although Apollo was sure he still saw a twinkle in her eye. “Now, let me see your designs for him so far.”
***
Clay leafed through Apollo’s pages. “You’ve made some galaxies, now.”
Apollo placed the latest flowers Clay had brought into the same vase from last time. “It’s a little different. Galaxies are a pretty good inspiration, and you hadn’t brought them up. I wanted to know what you think.”
“I like it! I just, uh, you might have made the decision harder, not easier.”
“Sooner or later, we’ll have to figure out how to grease these wheels. Pizza?” Apollo showed Clay the sausage-and-green-pepper-covered contents of the day’s pizza box.
Clay nodded. “…I know. I want this tattoo. I want to make it happen. It’s just gotta be exactly right, yknow?”
“Oh, I get it.” Apollo handed the pizza off in exchange for the sketchpad (being sure not to get any grease on his precious paper). “It’s a tough decision, and nobody scurries between ideas with the gusto of an ant in a jelly factory quite like you do.”
“How did you decide?”
“Huh?”
“Heheheh.” The combination of Clay’s gentle chuckle and soft smile had Apollo feeling quite warm. “You’re the first tattoo artist I’ve met without any visible tattoos, so it’s just a guess. But I assume they’re on there somewhere.”
Apollo rubbed the back of his head. “…Yeah. I want it to be covered up by my clothes, just in case I do end up being a defense lawyer. But, I have a big piece on my shoulder I designed.”
“May I see it?”
‘Warm’ was starting to feel like an understatement. “You’re asking me to take off my shirt.”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“I’m at work.”
“Yeah.”
“…Okay.” Why not? Apollo stood, unbuttoned his buttons, and released himself from his black shirt. He leaned over just so, to allow Clay a proper examination.
“You drew this yourself, huh?” Clay marveled. “It’s extremely cool. Wow. Can I get a little closer?”
“Sure!” Apollo was keenly aware of his shirtless torso having Clay’s undivided attention.
Clay inched a bit forward. “It’s really just occurring to me the challenges that might come with making a two-dimensional image on a three-dimensional space.”
“You have to consider the body part it goes on, for sure.” Apollo could feel Clay’s breath breezing against his shoulder. “The way that the skin will curve, move, and change, it’s all important. But I’ve been doing this for a little while, and Ms. von Karma’s a good teacher.”
“Did she put this on you?”
“Well, I wasn’t about to do it myself.”
“I love it.” Clay was mystified. “It looks like it was inspired by an anime or something I haven’t seen.”
“A story that kept me company a lot as a kid, yeah.” Apollo stood up straight once more. “That’s how I decided, to answer your question. It was something that I knew would be important to me forever.”
“You want to tell me more about whatever show it is, one of these times? I’d like to hear your thoughts. Maybe I’d even check it out myself.”
“…Maybe in the next consultation?”
Clay grinned. “I’d like that.”
***
“And so then the guy was like, wait, I only have a twenty dollar budget!”
“Seriously?” Apollo took Clay’s cleared plate of the day off his hands. “If my husband pawned off our toilet to buy theme park tickets, I expect at least one hundred dollars of flowers.”
“Right?” Clay shook his head. “And he watched me put together a whole arrangement and said nothing. Like, I was putting together a damn funeral level of arrangement. And somehow he thought that would be within twenty?”
“Customers.”
“Customers.”
***
“Wait, so, you’re telling me cross examining the parrot won him the case?”
“Basically, yeah! That was the breakthrough that led to the breakthrough that led to the other breakthrough.”
Clay guffawed with the full force of his body. “Now I want to be a defense attorney.”
“Get in line, buddy.” Apollo glanced at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, it looks like that’s time.”
“Augh. Talk to you next time, then?”
“Next time.”
***
“Just the one flower today?” Apollo greeted Clay.
Clay glanced down at the puffy yellow flower he’d brought with him. “I was in a bit of a mood. One marigold was all I was feeling. Shall we?”
Back to Apollo’s office they went.
“We’ve been at this for almost two months,” Apollo said as he vased the lone marigold. “We need to come up with something.”
“I know,” Clay answered. “I know. And I’ve been, uh, thinking about that again. Maybe we should do something that honors my mother.”
The memorial tattoo. Apollo was familiar. “Tell me about that.”
“I lost her when I was 12,” Clay explained evenly. “So, you know, it’s been a while now, but she was a really good mom. And she hasn’t gotten…” His voice started to break. “As much as my dreams are important to me, as much as it hurts that I might not meet them, the one thing I know is that she’d be proud to see the person I grew up to be. And she… didn’t get to.”
“Which isn’t fair at all.”
“…Really isn’t.”
They shared a silent few seconds.
“Can I share something with you?” Apollo asked.
“Yes, of course.”
Apollo sighed deeply of the atmosphere in the room. “I don’t share this much. But, uh, when I was nine, I was… basically abandoned by my family.”
“Oh.” Clay’s face barely changed at first, but he became redder and redder, until he was quite flushed, his jaw set forward. “That’s horrible. You deserved better.”
“Maybe I did,” Apollo said. “They… had good intentions. But at the end of things, I was just a kid, alone in the world. It was a horrible situation, and it really made me into who I am today. What I’m trying to say is, I know a thing or two about tragic life circumstances. And about how people deal with them.”
Clay looked at him earnestly, the anger starting to ebb away from his cheeks.
“Sometimes people look ahead of them when they really need to reflect more on the past, or on themselves,” Apollo continued. “And sometimes people feel like they have to look back, when really they need to keep their eyes forward. I think you’re in the second category right now. There’s nothing wrong with that, by the way. You’ve been excited about all the ideas until now, and to me, it looks like you’re only pushing this because you feel guilty you hadn’t thought about it earlier.”
He watched the tightening of Clay’s lips, the darting of Clay’s eyes between corners of the floor.
“Wow,” Clay said. “You just knew exactly what to say on that one.”
“I’m a really good tattoo artist,” Apollo said. “And let me drive the point home with this. If your mother could see the consultations you’ve had with me, I know she’d want you to bring a little piece of space up there with you, exactly like what you said when you first came here.”
Clay looked to be fighting back tears. There was a very real, very large part of Apollo that wanted to encourage Clay to let the tears flow, to lean on Apollo’s shoulder and let all his conflicts and worries out, to tell him he’d be fine and unleash him, refreshed, on the world.
But… why? Why this much, this fast? Why did this near-stranger know his way through all of the walls Apollo had spent years surrounding himself with? Why did Clay’s momentary, coursing anger on his behalf feel so natural? Why had he wanted Clay to say more about it? Why was this suddenly the missing ingredient to his life? Why did he feel like he had known Clay for years?
“Can I see your notebook again?” Clay asked, snapping Apollo out of his reverie.
Apollo wordlessly handed the sketchbook to Clay. Clay opened it directly to the black hole-centric sketch Apollo had made.
“This one,” he said. “I’m getting this one.”
***
“A single yellow marigold?” was how Franziska announced her presence in the doorway. “Is your client well?”
“…He’s fine. Mostly. Why?”
She had her arms crossed once again, and was staring analytically at the lone flower Clay had brought Apollo today. “I think you should see something, Apollo Justice. Come with me.”
She marched back to her own office, Apollo scurrying to keep up with her. He rounded the corner—
“Wait, you left your client on the table?”
“This was important,” Franziska said stiffly, snatching a small notebook from the corner of the room.
“I agree,” said the client. “I know how important it is to take breaks.”
“Silence, traditional artist.” Franziska handed the notebook to Apollo with the forcefulness of a jouster. “All of my notes. Read the first page.”
Apollo timidly opened Franziska’s notebook and read the words she’d written in perfect cursive.
“These are… the flowers Clay brought me. With… notes?”
“Stargazer lilies,” Franziska said. “That was the first bouquet. In the language of flowers, stargazer lilies represent passion and dreams. They are also used in the traditional ‘infatuation bouquet.’”
“Really?” Hope? Is this what hope feels like? “…We had been talking in the session before about how we both have dreams we might never achieve. So I guess the ‘dreams’ symbolism works…”
Franziska did something of a half-curtsy. “The flower language doesn’t lie. And do not write off the significance of the use in the ‘infatuation bouquet.’ As you will see, all the other flowers I’ve recorded symbolize the arc of his feelings in courtship.”
“Joy… Bashfulness… Secret love…”
“And last time, he brought?”
“Black-eyed Susans.” He felt like he might click his heels as he read the words on the page. “Symbolizing… Justice.”
“Which brings me to the yellow marigold.” She scowled at the ground. “A flower for grief.”
“…He was talking about his late mother today.” Apollo couldn’t believe it. Was Clay sending him secret messages through flowers all along?
“I rest my case,” Franziska said. “Please, hold onto my notes. I’ve taken the liberty of researching the flower shop Mr. Terran works at. I’ve noted down every flower they have in stock, with associated meaning. I want you to be prepared for next week.”
“That’s…” Creepy? “A lot of work you did for me, Ms. von Karma.”
“Hmph.” She turned towards her hapless customer, still on the table. “If you’re going to take that much time out of your schedule to appease this man, it had better yield some results.”
“Th-thank you, Ms. von Karma.” Now I KNOW that’s Franziska-von-Karma-speak for ‘On God, we’re getting you laid.’
***
Tattoo day.
Apollo had gone through five complete iterations before he finally had a version of the design he was happy with (and, after an exchange of emails, he got approval from Clay). He woke up that morning with a giant knot in his chest. Being honest with himself, he was more nervous about this than he had been about his own tattoo.
But this was his favorite client. The cutest client. The best conversational client. The client who, according to Franziska’s analysis, reciprocated Apollo’s intense and fast-forming feelings.
Again, being honest with himself, Apollo knew that this was inevitable. Falling so hard, so fast? All Apollo really knew how to do was be intense. Naturally, the first person who really caught his eye would drive him absolutely up the wall, soulmates or not.
Apollo had (wisely, he felt) chosen to have Clay’s appointment be the only one of the day, and while he had to wrangle a few walk-ins in the morning, he could focus most of his time on trying not to freak out.
Apollo had never actually messed up a tattoo, of course. The whole reason he tried this job out in the first place was because he was so good at focusing, at precision. When he needed to, he could concentrate on something for a full minute without blinking. It was a natural talent, and the artistry itself came with plenty of hard work, but Apollo always felt like he had a bit of an edge.
But this would be Clay.
The door opened. Apollo knew who it would be. He went to the front to greet fate.
Come on, Apollo, dial back the drama just a bit.
“Hey!” Clay grinned the instant he saw Apollo. “Good to see you.”
The grin melted most of Apollo’s stress away. Most. “Howdy! I like the bouquet.”
Today’s was a bit larger than any Clay had brought so far, filled mostly with bright red tulips.
“Yeah, I wanted to celebrate this time,” Clay said merrily.
“Now, your excuse before was that you weren’t paying me. I hope you’re aware you are paying for the tattoo.”
“As it happens, I paid for this bouquet, too. I can’t get away with taking this many flowers for free.”
Apollo eyed it a bit closer. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit in that vase. Do you have another one, or am I pressing my luck?”
Clay pushed air out of his lips, which seemed to be a common stress habit for him. “Yeah, I should have something. Let me grab it.”
This time, Apollo didn’t hide while Clay stepped out. He didn’t want to waste any of the time he had left with Clay, just in case he might never see his favorite client again.
“Here we are!” Clay had already put the tulips in a more suitable vase. “You probably wanna put water in there, or whatever. I’m not your mom.”
Apollo’s nerves climbed back up during the few minutes that followed. Taking Clay’s payment, caring for the tulips, bringing Clay back with him to the room where he did his work. It was all incredibly real.
Clay had decided he wanted the tattoo over his heart, so he, too, was now made to take off his shirt as he got in position, lying back against the table. Apollo couldn’t keep his eyes from lingering for a moment on the two mostly-faded surgical scars on Clay’s chest.
“Got them from a bear,” Clay said.
“Bears make decent top surgeons, I’d think,” Apollo responded. “Was he handsome, at least?”
“Heh. Well, I was anesthetized, so I’d say he was a ten, nine, eight, seven…”
Clay mimed falling asleep, and Apollo buried his face in one hand, but he was laughing.
He’d nearly forgotten about the tulips.
“I need to check some notes while I get ready.” Apollo had thankfully not put gloves on yet, and so discreetly dove in the direction of Franziska’s notes, trying to furtively find the entry on red tulips without Clay’s noticing or asking questions.
And there it was: ‘Tulip, Red: Declaration of love.’
Oh.
“Is everything alright?” Clay asked.
“I’m fine!” Apollo slammed the notes down onto the counter and made to rinse off his hands. “Just double checking something I needed to know before I start.” He gloved himself and busied himself in his equipment to try to distract from how Franziska had apparently turned the thermostat up to a hundred.
“So, uh…” Clay glanced at the needle Apollo had grabbed. “This is the part where I finally ask how it feels.”
“It feels like a tattoo,” Apollo said. “I don’t know, I haven’t felt anything else exactly like it. It hurts a bit, that rumor is true. But, once I’m done cleaning you off, I can poke you with the needle without any ink so you know what you’re in for, alright?”
“No ink, no nothing?”
“It might bruise,” Apollo explained. “It’s a tattoo needle. But, yeah, we can have a low-stakes trial run for you. Sound like a plan?”
“That might make me feel better.” Clay stared directly upward. “Or, it might not.”
Apollo wiped down the spot on Clay’s chest that he would be inking, trying very hard not to notice the muscular pecs or the texture of the skin or the fact that Clay had definitely stopped staring at the ceiling and was staring rather blatantly at Apollo.
It wasn’t until Apollo started shaving Clay that Clay finally spoke up: “Can I tell you something?”
Oh, Holy Mother here it comes, since when do I say ‘Holy Mother’ about anything, red tulips red tulips red freaking tulips, ohhhhhhh boy “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Do you remember when we first met, and you told me you wanted to be a defense attorney?” His eyes, damn those eyes, weren’t looking away from Apollo.
“I remember. What about it?”
“I was pretty surprised.”
“I remember.”
“Like, really surprised.” Clay softened into an ever-so-slight smile. “I mean, the whole reason I came here in the first place is because I fell in love with your work.”
Apollo was half convinced he’d be getting wheeled out of the tattoo shop by a team of paramedics, if the emotional roller coaster of Clay’s last sentence was anything to go by. “You called and asked for me because you saw my stuff?”
“What’s posted online, I assume the best of it.” And now Clay was grinning, his eyes crinkled, and Apollo could bask in his glow. “I told you that I want to capture the essence of my dream and carry it with me. But I knew all along you’d be able to do that for me. You’re the best at this, Apollo.”
“Ugh, you’re gonna make me cry.” Apollo could feel the sting at the corner of his eyes. He finished shaving Clay and trashed the razor, now getting the stencil he’d prepared ready.
“I guess what I didn’t know was that I would want to carry a piece of you, too. Your design, a reflection of this incredible soul I’ve gotten the chance to meet.”
“Doyouwanttogotodinnerafterwork.”
Clay’s affectionate gaze didn’t shift, which belied the next utterance out of his mouth: “Huh?”
“Like, on a date.” Apollo’s heart pounding was in his chest. This was a bad idea. If his hands started shaking now…
“Huh? Huh whah?”
“You’ve heard of dates, right?” Am I speaking French?
“Well sure, I just…” Clay made to clutch his hand to his chest, but Apollo slapped his hand away. “I didn’t think you’d feel the same way. Or that you’d… pick up on the fact that I would be open to it.”
“Clay.” And Apollo had always thought he was dense. “You brought me flowers.”
“What’s your point? I’m a florist.”
“It’s a little gay!”
“Well, maybe so! I lose track, everything I do is gay.”
“And what about the tulips?” Apollo gesticulated confusedly at the massive vase of tulips. “Aren’t red tulips supposed to be for a declaration of love?”
“Oh, don’t start with that flower language crap. Find me a florist who’s ever paid attention to it.”
“But all your other flowers…” Apollo was fully lost now. He’d thought making a move was a safe bet precisely because of those red tulips. “I mean, the marigold… that’s for mourning, and—”
“If you think you can do my job better than I can, that’s fine,” Clay said defiantly. “But you know what? I’m going to learn all about tattooing, and a year from now, I’ll know more than you.”
“That’s fine,” Apollo replied. “A year from now I’ll be a defense attorney.”
“Ohhhhohoho, I will definitely be an astronaut before you’re a defense attorney,” Clay shot back. “And I’ll be reading about tattooing while I’m in space. I will outdo you at every turn, Pollo.”
“Good luck with that!”
“Don’t need it!”
“Okay!”
“Alright!”
They stared at each other, the competitive energy flowing between them like a circuit of electricity.
“You still want me to go on a date with you?” Clay asked.
“Yes. You still want me to put my art on your skin where it will stay for the rest of your life?”
“Yes, please.” Clay laid back down.
Apollo put the stencil in place. His hands were not shaking at all. He’d never felt more alive. And he was now confident this would not be the last time he’d tattoo Clay Terran.