The Tears of a Prince
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A small studio in a big city. That's how he viewed his workspace. Nothing special but simply a place he went to every day. It was a two floor building. Painted black from the outside with a very characteristic gothic interior.
When someone walked in they would see a wooden black reception with a velvet armchair that had red colored cushions behind the dark counter. Framed art designs were everywhere on the black painted walls. Some of them were colorful while others simply black and white. All of them undeniably beautiful. A dark green couch was placed close to the wall and a small table filled with magazines and artbooks stood right in front of it. It couldn't fit many people but his golden body with the delicate carvings of roses was very elegant and he couldn't help but buy it. The place was lit by a big golden chandelier that hangs from the tall ceiling and a small twisted iron staircase that was painted a deep red color led to the first floor.
That part of the building was completely different. Looking perfectly clean with black leather beds and tools. The lights were white and a few art desks were set up. Two of them, papers and pencils messily left on them.
It was early in the morning, the sun still almost half asleep when his keys entered the keyhole to open the glass door. He entered, his breathing creating big puffy clouds since it was really cold outside, and took off his coat, throwing it on the armchair.
He wasn't dressed that heavily, he didn't need it since he was never really affected by cold weather. He simply wore a black coat, dressed in plain jeans and a white t-shirt. Not much time had passed when he heard the door open, he had just made some coffee in the small room behind the reception and was getting out when he was greeted by one of his employees, his only employee.
«Good morning» the younger man said happily and smiled at him. He was twenty two years old, a boy named John whose dream was to be the best tattoo artist. He had come to him begging him to be his apprentice. He would visit the shop every day making a ruckus and since he realized he couldn't get rid of him he finally took him in. He was short with brown hair and brown eyes, dark almost black. His smile was carefree and he had a small cut on his left eyebrow. Probably a mark from his reckless childhood.
John got greeted by a simple nod before he went over to the room to leave his stuff. It could be a busy day today, it could be not. He had no idea. John took care of all the appointments. The young man moved behind the island and took out a big black book they had for keeping appointments. He opened it and stared at it with a frown.
«What day is it today boss?» he asked him, scratching the back of his short hair.
«I don't know.» he responded
«Monday.» John mumbled remembering it instantly. So it was Monday, he thought and watched him scribble something on the book. «not that many appointments today. But boss tell me, how come you never know what day it is. I don't think I've ever seen you look at a clock or ask the time either.» John asked him.
«What the hell does that mean?» John asked, mostly mumbling to himself. He knew his boss wasn't going to answer. He wasn't the kind of person who talked a lot. Most of the time he remained silent, sitting on the couch drinking his coffee or working. John had been surprised when he had met him for the first time. As he had approached the studio he had seen him sitting there, exactly the same way he did now, his legs crossed, his eyes coldly staring at the wall filled with art in front of him.
His hair was blond, parted to the side and pushed back. They looked like silk, soft to the touch and strong. His eyes were blue with hints of green in them. A very cold color, piercing once it met your eyes. His skin was pale as snow and his beauty was undeniable. A straight nose and plump lips. A deep voice that matched perfectly his lean and tall figure. From the way he walked to the way he moved and talked he emitted a very strong elegance and when he worked everyone seemed to be enchanted by him. Sometimes John thought that maybe he didn't belong in this world, his cryptic words enhancing that theory.
«I am going to get the studio ready» He told him and left the cup of hot coffee on the small table. He got up the stairs leaving John down to receive any clients. He would always go up every morning and clean up things a little bit. Place the sketches in order and open the windows for some fresh air to get in. They wouldn't have any appointments for a while, since usually people did not prefer to get tattooed early in the morning.
Because of that he was a bit surprised when he heard the door open downstairs. At first he thought John had probably gone out for a smoke but soon he heard talking.
«Sir we are not actually open yet.» John had said but he could clearly hear footsteps approaching. «sir» the young man had called out again but the intruder seemed stubborn. His footsteps were loud on the metal staircase and his face soon appeared, his eyes hungrily searching for something.
Their gazes met and he stood up, the stranger stepped fully in the room, a satisfied grin on his face and John panted as he ran up the stairs.
«Boss I'm sorry, I told him to…»
«John, go out for a while.» he told him and the young man looked at him confused. «Now.» he said, staring at him strictly and forcing him to leave. «What are you doing here?» he turned his eyes again on the intruder.
«Kai.. How the mighty have fallen. Did you think you were going to hide forever?»
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Chapter 2: 1
A small studio in a big city. That's how he viewed his workspace. Nothing special but simply a place he went to every day. It was a two floor building. Painted black from the outside with a very characteristic gothic interior.
When someone walked in they would see a wooden black reception with a velvet armchair that had red colored cushions behind the dark counter. Framed art designs were everywhere on the black painted walls. Some of them were colorful while others simply black and white. All of them undeniably beautiful. A dark green couch was placed close to the wall and a small table filled with magazines and artbooks stood right in front of it. It couldn't fit many people but his golden body with the delicate carvings of roses was very elegant and he couldn't help but buy it. The place was lit by a big golden chandelier that hangs from the tall ceiling and a small twisted iron staircase that was painted a deep red color led to the first floor.
That part of the building was completely different. Looking perfectly clean with black leather beds and tools. The lights were white and a few art desks were set up. Two of them, papers and pencils messily left on them.
It was early in the morning, the sun still almost half asleep when his keys entered the keyhole to open the glass door. He entered, his breathing creating big puffy clouds since it was really cold outside, and took off his coat, throwing it on the armchair.
He wasn't dressed that heavily, he didn't need it since he was never really affected by cold weather. He simply wore a black coat, dressed in plain jeans and a white t-shirt. Not much time had passed when he heard the door open, he had just made some coffee in the small room behind the reception and was getting out when he was greeted by one of his employees, his only employee.
«Good morning» the younger man said happily and smiled at him. He was twenty two years old, a boy named John whose dream was to be the best tattoo artist. He had come to him begging him to be his apprentice. He would visit the shop every day making a ruckus and since he realized he couldn't get rid of him he finally took him in. He was short with brown hair and brown eyes, dark almost black. His smile was carefree and he had a small cut on his left eyebrow. Probably a mark from his reckless childhood.
John got greeted by a simple nod before he went over to the room to leave his stuff. It could be a busy day today, it could be not. He had no idea. John took care of all the appointments. The young man moved behind the island and took out a big black book they had for keeping appointments. He opened it and stared at it with a frown.
«What day is it today boss?» he asked him, scratching the back of his short hair.
«I don't know.» he responded
«Monday.» John mumbled remembering it instantly. So it was Monday, he thought and watched him scribble something on the book. «not that many appointments today. But boss tell me, how come you never know what day it is. I don't think I've ever seen you look at a clock or ask the time either.» John asked him.
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«Time does not concern me.» he answered as he took a sip from his hot coffee. The young man looked at him confused, a frown forming on his face as he could not make sense of his answer and reasonably so. He waited for a bit hoping that his boss would elaborate just a bit further but it didn't happen.«What the hell does that mean?» John asked, mostly mumbling to himself. He knew his boss wasn't going to answer. He wasn't the kind of person who talked a lot. Most of the time he remained silent, sitting on the couch drinking his coffee or working. John had been surprised when he had met him for the first time. As he had approached the studio he had seen him sitting there, exactly the same way he did now, his legs crossed, his eyes coldly staring at the wall filled with art in front of him.
His hair was blond, parted to the side and pushed back. They looked like silk, soft to the touch and strong. His eyes were blue with hints of green in them. A very cold color, piercing once it met your eyes. His skin was pale as snow and his beauty was undeniable. A straight nose and plump lips. A deep voice that matched perfectly his lean and tall figure. From the way he walked to the way he moved and talked he emitted a very strong elegance and when he worked everyone seemed to be enchanted by him. Sometimes John thought that maybe he didn't belong in this world, his cryptic words enhancing that theory.
«I am going to get the studio ready» He told him and left the cup of hot coffee on the small table. He got up the stairs leaving John down to receive any clients. He would always go up every morning and clean up things a little bit. Place the sketches in order and open the windows for some fresh air to get in. They wouldn't have any appointments for a while, since usually people did not prefer to get tattooed early in the morning.
Because of that he was a bit surprised when he heard the door open downstairs. At first he thought John had probably gone out for a smoke but soon he heard talking.
«Sir we are not actually open yet.» John had said but he could clearly hear footsteps approaching. «sir» the young man had called out again but the intruder seemed stubborn. His footsteps were loud on the metal staircase and his face soon appeared, his eyes hungrily searching for something.
Their gazes met and he stood up, the stranger stepped fully in the room, a satisfied grin on his face and John panted as he ran up the stairs.
«Boss I'm sorry, I told him to…»
«John, go out for a while.» he told him and the young man looked at him confused. «Now.» he said, staring at him strictly and forcing him to leave. «What are you doing here?» he turned his eyes again on the intruder.
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