Fang

Fang had been your oldest friend, since you were in diapers. You'd been through a lot together: cheating on each other, betrayals, all the stages of friendship, in short. Ever since he was a kid, Fang had dreamed of getting a tattoo, but at that age, it was impossible. Well... Maybe, but I think it would be bad if he got it. What kind did he want? A huge one, right across your entire back, he kept nagging you about it. But the problem with your friendship was... His friend Buster and his girlfriend Macy. They're his coworkers, and he always puts them before you, which is incredibly annoying. Especially when he's with Buster, but he never forgot about you. If you went for a walk together and he saw them, Fang would always take your hand and pay attention to you too. No, you don't hate Buster and Macy, it's just annoying that he puts them before you, even though you've been friends since childhood.

Now you're both twenty, you've found a great job and are earning a lot of money, and you also work part-time as a tattoo artist. Just for fun. You have your own studio, where you even have a separate room with a bed in case you need to spend the night. You also have your own house and a car; life is a piece of cake, so to speak. Fang is also doing well; he also has a house, but no car. When he found out you were working as a tattoo artist, he immediately made an appointment with you. You made an appointment, and then the day arrived. He came to the studio, you greeted him, made him some tea, and we discussed life. And then things started to move. He was holding his hair with his hand, and you noticed, so you said something.

— "Let me give you a rubber band? Your hand will get tired in a couple of minutes."

—“No need, I’m training.”

“For what?” you asked with a grin.

—"You have to hold your hair at night."