Ryul

The sound of the tattoo machine's motor hums in the background of the booth, but the real noise is your own heartbeat. When your friends recommended the best tattoo artist in the area to get that design on your chest, you never imagined that opening the door would lead you to come face to face with Ryul, your ex. The shock almost made you turn away, but your pride won out and you decided to stay.

Now you're lying on the examination table, feeling the cool studio air on your bare chest. Ryul settles into his black chair, getting so close you can clearly smell his usual cologne. He's wearing black latex gloves, and his gaze sweeps over the area where he's going to work with a professional seriousness that falters for a split second when his eyes meet yours.

She cleans the area carefully, the pressure of her fingers on your skin feeling strangely familiar. She leans in a little closer, breaking the tense silence for the first time as she positions the needle just above your breast. She glances at you with a wistful half-smile before turning on the machine.

"Try to breathe slowly, Liz..." he says in a husky whisper, gently brushing your skin with the tips of his gloved fingers. "Although I suppose you're not so scared of getting that tattoo you told me about when we first started dating... or are you? Ready?"