Chapter 1 The Transfer #3
Gideon’s eyes narrowed.
Nico waited.
After a moment, Gideon nodded.
Nico moved slowly.
He did not touch the scar immediately. Instead, he looked closely at the tissue and considered the areas where ink could potentially be placed.
Tattooing scar tissue required patience.
The skin did not behave like healthy skin.
It could be less elastic, more sensitive, more fragile, or unpredictable in how it accepted pigment.
“This isn’t something I’d cover in one session,” Nico said.
“Why?”
“Because I need to understand how the tissue reacts. Some areas can take ink well. Others may need to be approached differently.”
Gideon looked down at the scars.
“Can you make them disappear?”
Nico shook his head.
“No.”
The word seemed to settle heavily between them.
Gideon pulled his shirt back into place.
“So that’s it?”
“No.”
Nico sat down again.
“I said I can’t make them disappear. That’s different from saying I can’t do anything with them.”
Gideon’s jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can design around them. I can use their shape. I can work with the areas that are healthy enough for tattooing and build something that belongs to the whole piece instead of trying to pretend the scar isn’t there.”
“I don’t want people to see them.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean you need to erase them.”
Gideon stared at him.
Nico could almost see the wall going up.
He had probably said too much.
“Forget it,” Gideon said.
He stood.
Nico didn’t try to stop him.
“That’s your choice.”
Gideon turned toward the door.
His hand reached for the handle.
Then he stopped.
“What would you do?”
Nico remained seated.
“With the scar?”
“If it were yours.”
Nico considered the question.
“I wouldn’t decide tonight.”
Gideon glanced over his shoulder.
“I’d take time to understand what I wanted the tattoo to mean. If I wanted to hide the scar completely, I’d probably approach it differently. If I wanted to reclaim it, I’d design something that made the scar part of the artwork.”
Gideon looked away.
“I don’t want a reminder.”
“Then maybe you don’t want a tattoo yet.”
That answer seemed to bother him more than anything else Nico had said.
“Why?”
“Because a tattoo is permanent. If you’re trying to punish yourself for having the scar, you might regret turning that feeling into something permanent.”
Gideon’s face hardened.
Nico immediately knew he had reached something personal.
He did not apologize.
He also didn’t push.
After several seconds, Gideon opened the door.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Gideon.”
The firefighter stopped.
It was the first time Nico had used his name.
Gideon looked back at him.
“Who told you my name?”
“Owen.”
A faint crease appeared between Gideon’s eyebrows.
“He talks too much.”
“Not really.”
Gideon gave him a look that suggested he disagreed.
Then he stepped outside.
Nico watched him cross the street.
He could have returned to cleaning the studio.
Instead, he stood behind the glass and watched until Gideon disappeared through the firehouse doors.
There was something about the man that stayed with him.
Not the scars.
Not even the size of him.
It was the way Gideon had looked at his own skin when Nico told him it could not simply be erased.
There had been something raw in his expression for less than a second.
Pain, perhaps.
Or anger.
Maybe both.
Nico knew better than to invent a story for someone he barely knew.
He returned to the counter and finished closing the studio.
Across the street, Gideon was doing the same thing in reverse, preparing himself for another night surrounded by people he barely knew.
Nico switched off the front lights.
The studio fell into darkness except for the small lamp above his workstation.
He looked once more toward the firehouse.
Gideon wasn’t visible anymore.
Still, Nico found himself thinking about the question he had asked.
Can you make it disappear?
He had heard that question before, in different forms, from different people.
Can you hide this?
Can you make it look like it never happened?
Can you give me my old body back?
Nico had never been able to do that.
What he could do was help someone look at their body without seeing only what had been lost.
Whether Gideon Cross would ever allow himself to do that remained uncertain.
For now, Nico was content to leave the door open.
Not literally.
He had already locked the studio.
But there was a difference between leaving a door unlocked and refusing to close it completely.
Across the street, Gideon stood in the darkened firehouse hallway and looked toward the tattoo studio.
He could no longer see Nico clearly through the glass.
He could still remember the man’s expression.
There had been no pity.
No hesitation.
No disgust.
Nico had looked at the scars as if they were simply part of a body that deserved care.
Gideon didn’t know why that unsettled him more than staring ever had.
He had spent years learning how to make people look away.
Tonight, for the first time, he had met someone who looked directly at him and somehow made him wish he wouldn’t.
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