All Just Pretend

Blake Warner had never been your typical “girl.” Of course, saying that made it sound like she was trying. You couldn’t try hard enough to be like Blake, though. She just... was, which made her sound complicated. In some ways she was, but in more ways she was just Blake, and there wasn’t really any other way to describe her.

Of course, Oliver Sykes was not your typical boy, either. Although maybe he was. Maybe they tried too hard to categorize themselves that they failed altogether. Regardless... Oliver was not your typical boy. He was just Oliver Sykes, and there really was no other way to describe him.

The two had a very... peculiar story, though.

They had met in a tattoo parlor of all places. It was February first, and they were young, Blake just a few months shy of 22 and Oliver just barely 23. It was her cousin’s tattoo shop that she was working at. She wanted to have her own shop some day and James knew this, so whenever she had the chance while she was in college (and the money) he let her come visit and watch him do his work. After three summers of staying with him, Blake had actually drawn up several tattoos and even done a few small ones on a couple regular clients. Blake was a college graduate now, having graduated in December, and they all knew her by now. Next to James, Blake was probably one of the most artistic people in that shop. Everyone knew and loved her.

Oliver Sykes was the exception, and yet at the same time, he wasn’t.

He was already so covered in tattoos that Blake wasn’t sure he had anymore room. But when he walked in informing her he had an appointment, Blake was drawn to him. She wasn’t necessarily attracted to him, but she was a firm believer that tattoos--all tattoos--told a story. Whether it was meaningful or silly or downright ridiculous, she still believed they told stories. Just by looking at the boy standing before her, she knew he had to have a lot of stories.

She got to hear some of those stories later that day when James was working on Oliver’s next tattoo. She had learned early on that James had done a lot of Oliver’s already existing tattoos, which surprised her. Why hadn’t she seen this boy before? She ignored the fact and watched as James worked. It was the second session of a piece on his shin, she had learned. She wasn’t paying much attention to her cousin’s work though; she was too busy admiring the work that already existed.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, reaching out to let her fingers ghost over his arm, absolutely covered in art. “You’re insane.”

He smirked, wincing only slightly while Blake’ cousin did his work. “I like tat’oos, wha’ can I say?”

“Do you even remember all of them?” she joked, getting off of her chair perched next to Oliver to kneel beside him. Her fingers traced the heart on his shoulder and then moved on to what appeared to be an angel of some sort right below it. She didn’t take her fingers away, not bothered in the least that she was touching this boy she had never met before, but moved her gaze up to James who was concentrating hard. “Did you do these James?”

He gave her a short nod. “I’ve done a lot for this kid. That whole sleeve for the most part,” he told her referencing Oliver’s arm that she was still touching.

Oliver was staring at her hand now where it still rested on his tattoo. “‘s meh favorite I fhink.”

Blake smiled at him. “Mine too.”

The pair made small talk that was actually anything but small, discussing what Blake was doing there when her accent--or lack-there-of--gave away the fact that she was clearly not from Sheffield. They talked about some more of Oliver’s tattoos, and Blake even decided she would show him some of hers as well. They were all much more easily hidden, but that was her parents doing.

The blonde leaned her shoulder down, instructing the boy to move her sleeve off of her shoulder. He did and soon her own tattoo was exposed. It wasn’t too elaborate, but it had been her very first one back when she turned 18. It was the word “create” written in an elaborate cursive font, but the “e” on the end trailed off into birds scattered across the length of Blake’ back. There were 18, to be exact. “My parents told me I could get a tattoo as long as it was somewhere I could hide easily.” She rolled her eyes and stood up, moving her shirt back in place. “They didn’t think I was actually going to stick with the whole ‘tattoo shop’ plan, but after my first visit out here,” she said, gesturing to the shop, “they realized they were wrong.”

Oliver nodded. “Meh parents were the same way. Meh mum ‘ated meh ta’toos at first but she gets it now.” He smirked before adding, “Or at leas’ she doesn’t complain anymore.”

Blake let her laugh ring out through the room, and for a brief moment Oliver thought how much he liked her laugh. He took in her appearance then, a more detailed description in his mind than the once-over he had done as soon as he stepped foot into the shop. Her hair was long and wavy, a dirty blonde color. It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty. She didn’t look like she cared too much about it, either, which was... different from other girls (and hell, even guys) that Oliver knew. Her eyes were extremely dark green, which threw him off slightly. He had never seen eyes so dark green before in his life. She was slightly tan, which he blamed on the fact that she was born in Arizona, so she said.

She was pretty, but in a different way than most of the girls Oliver had known. She wasn’t pretty in the sense that she could walk outside and ten different model agencies would be dropping at her feet, but she was a far cry from ugly. She was... unique, and there wasn’t really any other way Oliver thought he could describe her.

As for Blake though, she wasn’t attracted to Oliver in that sense. He was surprisingly shy, or had been when he walked in. She could tell just by looking at his head that he spent more time messing with his own hair than Blake ever had (or ever would, for that matter), and that had never been a turn on for her. While she loved his tattoos, and thought the fact that he was in a band was pretty cool, and his lip-ring was kind of hot, she wasn’t attracted to his too-skinny-legs and the way his shirt just screamed obnoxious with the bright neon “dropdead” saying scattered all over it.

He was not her type, and while Oliver thought she was pretty in that odd way, she was not his type either.

And that was that. Except it wasn’t.

Blake made her way in and out of the room while James finished up the tattoo. She answered the phone and booked future appointments and helped people who came in for existing appointments. Then finally, several hours later, Oliver’s tattoo, or at least his second session, was finished. She walked into the room and saw Oliver getting out of the padded chair, shaking out his stiff legs.

“So?” she asked, walking closer to him.

He gave her a small smile and lifted his leg up on the chair so she could look more closely at it. It was a woman on his shin, and she grinned at him after inspecting it; she gave him a nod of approval. “I like it!”

He nodded too, looking down. “I do too. ‘m glad ‘s finalleh finished.”

All the while, James took in the interaction while he cleaned up. He smiled. “Aye Blake, take care of ‘im for meh while I clean up.”

She gave her cousin a short nod before directing Oliver out to the register in the front of the parlor. She told Oli the amount and he pulled his wallet out, handing over his card. While Blake started the transaction, he decided to speak. “Yeh know, ‘ve been comin’ ‘ere for a long time. Why ‘ave I neva seen yeh before?”

She grinned but didn’t look up from the register and instead just shrugged. “Who knows? I’ve been coming here a long time too.” She finally looked up and winked as she handed him back his card along with the receipt.

“Blake righ’?” he asked, wanting more conversation. He, oddly enough, didn’t want to leave.

She nodded and tucked a piece of her blonde locks behind her ear. “Blake Warner, at your service,” she spoke, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

He smirked but shook her hand. “Oli Sykes.”

This was the beginning.