Tattoo
Title: Tattoo
Fandom: Skins
Pairing: Naomily
Summary: AU. They don't mean to do it, but some people tattoo themselves onto you, and even though their probably more messed up than you, you need them in your life just as much as they need you in there's. Eight times, Three people, two very different endings.
The first time it happens she's alone and confused.
Stumbling down a road at stupid o'clock, mascara long since smudged by tears. She knows her mother has every right to be angry, to hate her, it shouldn't have happened, and she certainly shouldn't have liked it so damn much. Still she knows that she's now irrevocably tied to Naomi Campbell.
She meets her somewhere between the party and the park, couldn't tell you exactly where. The woman stands out not because she's tall, or blonde, and it's not because she looks like Naomi. The woman stands out because she's alluring, sexy, confidant and she looks at her in a way that she’s sure she’s never been looked at before.
The conversation is brief, but she is drawn in by the woman's voice. It speaks of truth, and for a moment she is no longer confused, but is struck by a sudden moment of clarity. Her world is rocked when the woman leans down and kisses her, it’s overwhelming. She doesn't think; let’s herself feel as the woman draws her into a dimly lit alleyway.
She fucks the woman on the cold concrete floor. It leaves her more confused than ever, but strangely at peace.
The second time it was about comfort
She knows she should be used to rejection, to the cold hard glare that she had been almost constantly exposed to since college began. But she’s not, and so she takes refuge outside of the class and outside of the college.
She feels alone, and the tears that make their way down her face. Nobody notices her, the petit brunette crying silently on the cold steps. She’s sure that it’s always going to be like this, sort of detached from the world but desperately clawing her way back on. Perhaps it’s futile she wonders, and she contemplates letting herself go, notes how easy it would be. Her parents would be happy she was out of the way, and Naomi would be ecstatic, she’s sure of it.
But somebody does notice her. A graceful woman who gently pulls her closer whispers in her ear promises of love and of passion, a kindred spirit. She lets herself be guided to the woman’s car, slides in the backseat after her and let’s herself be drawn into another world a world of ecstasy and seclusion, a world where she’s wanted just for a little while.
She thinks it’s nice to feel wanted, although she’s certain it would be a whole lot better if Naomi wanted her.
The third time it was heaven
It feels like a beginning and it feels like the end only she’s not sure of what. The only thing she does know is that it’s pretty damn close to heaven, and she didn’t even get a turn. She let it be all about Naomi, knew it was better that way.
Still she basks in the afterglow all the same, watches as Naomi breathes gently next to her. A sleep she hopes is full of good dreams, dreams full of her. She lets her finger trail the line of Naomi’s body, wants to commit it to memory.
She would sit here all night but she’s cold, so she pulls on her jumper and stokes the fire. Now she’s comfy and warm, she’s satisfied and she’s happy. She lets sleep claim her as it did Naomi.
She hopes it will last, she’s doubtful it will.
The fourth time she wanted to forget
It had been so close, within her reach. Everything she has ever wanted, everything she could ever want. It wasn’t her fault and she wondered if it was why it hurt so much. If she had done something there was a chance it could be fixed, but she knew it had been Naomi to destroy everything and Naomi would not want to fix it.
There was somebody who tried to fix it, just not the person she wanted. But she appreciated the effort and for a little while she allowed everything to be ok, to have the cracks smoothed over with paper only for them to be washed away later. The night was filled with want and need, lust and passion but not love. With the woman there would never be love, only a covering of each other’s wounds with light kisses and false promises.
Still for now it was enough for them both and for Naomi not enough.
The fifth time was friendship
She had always been wrong about Naomi, had always assumed she was scared, or unsure of what she wanted. She was passion and warmth and love. She was a romantic and a perfect match. She couldn’t so no hint of fear, only a great longing as she lay in Naomi’s arms. She was happy and content, but still more troubled than ever.
The woman was still in her thoughts, a kindred spirit and her source of comfort. It was wrong, she knew. With Naomi she had everything she had ever wanted, but still she sought comfort in the woman, as the woman sought comfort in her. It wasn’t an affair, not to her, it was a force holding two people together who had once only each other. She assumed that Naomi would make everything better, would smooth over her cracks to leave her whole. Naomi didn’t make everything better, the woman made it ok. They were not lovers, just two friends seeking comfort.
The sixth time was troubled
She should have realised that her happiness would be short lived. Both she and Naomi were walking upon a precipice, and they had both fell in. But unlike Naomi the woman had caught her, suspending her in midair but refusing to pull her up to safety. It was almost midnight when for the first time she found herself seeking the woman out. Together they made love on the living room floor, the woman’s husband and children asleep upstairs. Still old habits die hard, and once more both needed solace. It was four in the morning before the woman slinked off upstairs, and she slipped out of the house t the sounds of screams and a dull thud. She couldn’t pretend to know what was happening, nor could she bring herself to go look.
She had found her peace, but the woman had found only hate.
The seventh time was coming home
Grief, she thought was an overwhelming concept and try as she might could not help but feel it. Black was never her colour, and so she had worn yellow, the colour of the woman’s hair, tried to tell herself that it’s what she would have wanted. She failed miserably, knew what the woman wanted was help, that by reaching out to her she had reached out for help. She couldn’t have given what the woman wanted, but she could wear yellow for her big goodbye.
She couldn’t quite acknowledge it as a funeral, it sounded too final, thought a big goodbye sounded better, gave hope that everybody would see her once again. She hoped that the husband would never see the woman again, she would do everything in her power to prevent that. Thought she owed that much to a friend as good as she.
She saw the similarities between the woman and herself and the irony of their different endings. They had covered each other cracks but they had used different material. The woman had used cardboard that had held out under the torrential rain, whereas she has seemingly used tissue paper that disintegrated under a light shower. She knew she had failed, could feel the cracks appearing in herself, but with Naomi stood at her side filling in the cracks as they appeared, she knew everything would be alright.
The Eighth time was a beginning
The woman had once talked of beginnings and ends, how each encounter marks a point on a journey. She knew that today was one of importance as one journey ended allowing her to start anew. Her only regret was the journey had to end at all, perhaps she could have saved the woman, allowed her to continue her journey side by side with her and Naomi.
Today she had made an acquaintance that had set her regrets aside allowing her to realise the woman’s journey had not yet ended, it had only a fork in the road that took the two in different directions. She may not have saved the woman in the physical sense, but she had saved something so much more important. The woman had died knowing love, had died knowing pleasure but most importantly had died knowing somebody cared.
Today was a beginning for all of them. It was the beginning for the woman away from pain and abuse, and it was the beginning for her and Naomi, full of love and a future. She would never forget the woman, a true friend who had imprinted herself in her life, and by extension Naomi. She was also comforted to know that Naomi would never forget the woman who she had never met, but who shared her heart.