Chapter 2 Don’t Touch
Boundaries
Gideon stood outside Reyes Ink for almost a full minute before he opened the door.
The decision had seemed simple when he left the firehouse. He needed information about the scar, and Nico had given him a straightforward answer the night before. If Gideon wanted to know what could be done, he needed another consultation. There was nothing personal about that.
At least, that was what he told himself.
The small bell above the studio door sounded when he stepped inside. The familiar smell of disinfectant and tattoo ink reached him immediately. Soft music played from somewhere behind the counter, and afternoon light came through the front windows, falling across the polished floor.
Nico looked up from his desk.
For a second, surprise crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
“Gideon.”
“Are you busy?”
“I have someone coming in later.”
Nico checked the clock.
“I have about forty minutes.”
“That’s enough.”
Nico nodded toward the consultation chair.
“Sit down.”
Gideon walked over but remained standing.
“I need to make something clear first.”
Nico leaned back slightly.
“Go ahead.”
“I don't want questions about the fire.”
“All right.”
“I don't want people touching me unless there's a reason.”
Nico nodded.
“Understood.”
“And I don't want you treating me like I'm some kind of victim.”
Nico's expression remained calm.
“I won't.”
Gideon watched him carefully.
“That easy?”
“Yes.”
Gideon frowned.
“Most people argue.”
“I'm not most people.”
There was no arrogance in Nico's voice. He said it as though he were stating a fact.
Gideon finally sat down.
Nico pulled his chair closer to the consultation table but left enough space between them to keep Gideon comfortable.
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Then we can work with that.”
Gideon looked around the studio.
The walls were covered with artwork, some framed and others displayed as large prints. There were designs of flowers, animals, geometric patterns, lettering, portraits, and abstract shapes. None of them looked random. Every piece seemed to have been created with a specific body and purpose in mind.
Nico noticed where Gideon was looking.
“I don't use a single design for every scar.”
“Why?”
“Because every scar is different.”
Gideon looked back at him.
Nico continued without hesitation.
“Scar tissue can have different textures depending on how deep the original injury was and how the skin healed. Some areas are thin and sensitive. Some are thick and raised. Some are tight because the skin lost elasticity during healing. Even the way the tissue holds pigment can vary.”
Gideon glanced down.
“So you don't know if it'll work.”
“I know I can work with some of it. I won't promise you something I can't deliver.”
“That sounds like a sales pitch.”
“It isn't.”
Nico gave him a faint smile.
“If I wanted your money, I'd tell you exactly what you wanted to hear.”
Gideon almost smiled.
Almost.
Instead, he looked down at his hands.
“What do you need to see?”
“The scar.”
Gideon's shoulders tightened.
Nico noticed immediately.
“I'll only look at what you want me to examine.”
Gideon nodded.
He pulled the collar of his shirt aside and exposed the upper section of scar tissue near his shoulder. The skin was pale in some areas and darker in others, with irregular lines spreading across the muscle beneath.
Nico didn't react.
He simply studied it.
Gideon had expected questions.
None came.
After several seconds, Nico reached toward the table and picked up a pair of gloves.
He put them on.
Then he looked at Gideon.
“May I touch the edge of this area?”
Gideon stared at him.
“You need permission?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked me not to touch you without a reason. I need to examine the tissue. That's a reason, but it's still your body.”
Something moved inside Gideon's chest.
He couldn't name it.
“Go ahead.”
Nico moved his hand slowly.
His fingers barely touched the edge of the scar.
Gideon's body reacted before he could control it. His shoulder tightened, and his breathing changed.
Nico stopped immediately.
“Too much?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Nico waited another second before continuing.
His touch remained light and clinical. He wasn't exploring Gideon's body for pleasure. He was assessing the skin, testing its movement, checking where the tissue tightened and where it moved normally.
Gideon watched his face.
There was no pity there.
No discomfort.
Nico's attention was completely focused on the work.
“How does that feel?”
“Tight.”
“Painful?”
“No.”
“Sensitive?”
“A little.”
Nico nodded.
He moved his fingers a small distance.
“Here?”
“Fine.”
Another movement.
“And here?”
Gideon took a slow breath.
“More sensitive.”
Nico stopped.
He did not continue until Gideon nodded.
That simple pause affected Gideon more than he wanted to admit.
People had touched him before.
Doctors had examined his burns. Nurses had changed dressings. Physical therapists had worked with damaged muscle and stiff joints. Firefighters had helped remove gear after difficult calls.
Those touches had always been necessary.
They had also been hurried.
Clinical.
Impersonal.
Nico's touch was different because he was waiting.
Every time.
Gideon didn't understand why that mattered.
He only knew that it did.
Nico removed his hand.
“The tissue here has less flexibility than the surrounding skin. That's important.”
“Because of the tattoo?”
“Yes. The needle doesn't behave exactly the same way when it reaches scarred tissue.”
Gideon adjusted his shirt.
“Explain.”
“Healthy skin has a certain elasticity. It stretches and moves naturally. Scar tissue can be tighter, thicker, or less predictable. Depending on the scar, pigment may not settle the same way it does in normal skin. It can take differently, heal differently, and sometimes require a lighter approach.”
Gideon listened.
“So you could tattoo it and it might look different later.”
“It could.”
“Could it make it worse?”
“If someone doesn't know what they're doing, yes. That's why I don't rush scar work.”
Gideon looked toward the tattoo machines arranged on the nearby workstation.
“How long would it take?”
“That depends on the design.”
“I don't have a design.”
“I know.”
Nico smiled slightly.
“You're still deciding whether you even want one.”
Gideon looked at him.
“You seem confident.”
“I've met people who were certain they wanted a tattoo until they understood what it involved. I've met people who were terrified and ended up loving the result. There's no point deciding for you.”
Gideon leaned back.
“What if I just want it covered?”
“Then we design a cover-up.”
“What if I want the scar completely hidden?”
“We can try to make it less noticeable, but I won't promise complete concealment. Scar tissue has its own texture. Ink can change the color, but it doesn't change the structure underneath.”
Gideon looked down again.
He had known that.
Some part of him had known it since the first consultation.
Still, hearing it from Nico made the truth harder to avoid.
The scars were not stains.
They were not marks sitting on the surface that could simply be painted over.
They were part of the body now.
Nico seemed to understand what Gideon was thinking.
“You don't have to decide today.”
Gideon looked up.
“I came here for an answer.”
“You got one.”
“That I can't erase them.”
“That you don't have to.”
Gideon studied him.
“You always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like everything has another meaning.”
Nico smiled.
“Only when someone is trying very hard to convince himself something doesn't matter.”
Gideon's jaw tightened.
“That isn't what I'm doing.”
“All right.”
Again, there was no argument.
That somehow made it worse.
Gideon stood.
“I need to think about it.”
“Take your time.”
Gideon adjusted his shirt and reached for his jacket.
Nico didn't try to stop him.
At the door, Gideon paused.
“What would you recommend?”
Nico looked at him.
“For your scars?”
Gideon nodded.
“I'd start small.”
“Why?”
“Because you don't trust the idea yet.”
Gideon considered that.
“You think you know me?”
“No.”
Nico's answer was immediate.
“I think I know skin. You are the one who has to decide what you want to do with yours.”
Gideon stared at him for several seconds.
Then he opened the door.
“Thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
He stepped outside.
The afternoon air felt cooler than it had when he arrived.
Gideon crossed the street slowly.
He should have felt disappointed.
He hadn't gotten the simple answer he wanted. Nico couldn't erase the scars. There was no magic technique, no perfect design, and no guarantee that tattooing would make the damage disappear.
Yet Gideon couldn't stop thinking about the consultation.
Not the tattoo.
Not even the scars.
The permission.
Every time Nico had needed to touch him, he had asked.
Every time Gideon had shown discomfort, Nico had stopped.
There had been no impatience.
No judgment.
No attempt to convince him that he was being unreasonable.
For years, Gideon had thought of his scars as something other people had a right to examine because of what had happened to him. Tonight, for the first time, someone had reminded him that the decision still belonged to him.
He reached the firehouse and looked back.
Nico was standing inside the studio.
He wasn't staring.
He was simply working.
Gideon turned away and walked inside.
He still didn't know whether he wanted the tattoo.
He wasn't even sure he wanted anyone touching those scars again.
But something had changed.
For the first time, the thought of Nico touching them did not make him want to run.
Under the Skin
The studio felt different after Gideon left.
Nico had closed the door behind him and returned to the counter, but his attention remained somewhere near the consultation chair.
He could still picture the way Gideon had sat there, shoulders held stiffly, one hand resting against his thigh while the other remained close to his body as though he was prepared to cover the scars again at the slightest sign of discomfort.