The first time Team caught Win staring had been over earrings of all things. Win couldn't part his eyes from the fresh studs adorning his ears. He didn't understand how two pieces of metal could ratchet someone's hotness up so many levels, but they did. The small glittering gems were a perfect complement to his "bad boy" exterior that Win's knees went absolutely weak for. Maybe if he could have verbalized that instead of stammering like a fool, Team wouldn't have gotten in his face over it.
God, he was such a jerk!
Why did Win have to have a crush?! And on him of all people?! He wanted Team to notice him so bad. So, so bad. But not due to Win's inability to look away. He couldn't help that his gaze stayed latched onto his classmate like velcro. Everything he did was alluring, even the sneer he wore as he harassed Win was attractive in its own way.
Damn it. He was hopeless.
In response, Win had marched his unpierced ass down to the nearest piercing boutique and gotten his own set. Perhaps Team would see and ask him about them? Start a conversation? Bond over a shared experience as their ears healed? Ha!
Team was oblivious, eyes passing over Win as if he were a bowl of lukewarm soup.
Then again, one pair of tiny stud earrings were pretty subtle...
Back in the chair after those healed, the gun stabbed a new pair of pointy-ended earrings into Win's ears. If one piercing was cool, then logically two were even cooler. Despite the heat and pain gnawing at his lobes, Win was smug. He, the nerdy gangly kid, had more piercings than Team now. Surely, that would garner him some level of attention?
Nada.
Zilch.
Error 404: Not found.
He was still invisible to Team, unless some slight was perceived.
The second—or was it the third—time Team caught him, Win couldn't peel his eyes away from his new haircut. Win appreciated how his dark bangs feathered and framed his face. How his hair product slicked and molded the strands perfectly. A damn hairstyle had no right to make Win swoon as much as it did. His eyes had traced over Team's facial features, trying to commit every line and angle to memory for his own enjoyment later. Of course, Team saw him gazing in his direction like a love-struck idiot. A hand slamming down on his desk had destroyed Win's daydream, heart sent hurtling into his throat.
Argh!!! He was so infuriating—wasn't it a good thing to be admired?
Dissatisfied with his own boring hairstyle and inspired by Team, Win let his hair grow. The long brunette strands hung in his face and drove him up a wall as he waited for his hair to catch up with what he envisioned. Cue awkward headbands and clips to keep his bangs out of his face while in gym class or during basketball games. Team noticed him then, but not in the way Win hoped.
When Team had called his name, a dopey smile had slid onto Win's face, happy to have his name spoken by his crush. Jeers about his shabby hair and laughter at the array of comically jutting pieces knocked him back down. Win nearly gave in and scheduled a haircut, but a little voice told him to be patient. Wait it out.
The day Win gathered up his hair at his crown into a hair tie and it stayed there, he made the salon appointment. He had refused to color it too early, not wanting to add growing dark roots to the spectacle of his hair. Equal parts nervous and excited, he watched the stylist paint the bleach onto his hair, brunette no more. No turning back. When she spun the chair around at the end of the appointment, he barely recognized himself. Platinum blonde hair framed his face, twin silver hoops in his healed piercings, his features brightened without the dark halo around his face.
Win's smiles came easier after his trip to the salon. He stood a little straighter, held his chin a little higher. When he walked past Team in the hallway between classes that first day, he didn't imagine the double take at his shoulder. Confidence and ego swelling, Win paid him no mind for the first time since... ever? Win's eyes purposefully didn't acknowledge Team staring at him while their teacher intoned through their lessons, either. He was still hopelessly, madly in love with him and fantasized about the day he worked up the courage to say as much, but was no longer a timid mess in his presence.
He abandoned the prim, buttoned to the throat way of dressing he had before. The tie around his neck hung looser. The top button of his uniform remained unfastened, exposing a bit of his chest. A bracelet circled his wrist as he rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbow. The teachers gave him a pass, his grades excellent and graduation fast approaching. Team's eyes also gave him a pass, lingering as Win twirled a pencil between his fingers on one particular occasion. As Win's eyes slid to Team's, caught red-handed, he quickly looked away. Win nearly burst with happiness. The tables had turned.
*
Win learned a funny thing about piercings on his quest to be noticed—they were addicting. Though the first pair was because of the hidden flame he carried, his second pair was equal parts due to Team, and Win's own growing desire for body modification. Before his lobes fully healed from round two, he had already picked out what he wanted next. Single helix, it even sounded cool.
Setting foot in a tattoo shop for the first time, Win let some of his nerves go. The place was a lot less scary than he initially imagined and the scent of disinfectant wasn't half-bad either in a weird way. But the thought of a big long needle piercing his cartilage sent his palms sweating while he waited. Half of the videos he watched online said it didn't hurt while the other half did. He was about to find out which side of the line he landed on.
As the piercing artist led him back to a private room, Win recognized a dark shock of hair and the face underneath it. Walking past Team getting a tattoo on his forearm took every ounce of strength he possessed to keep his jaw firmly off the floor. Behind his piercer's back, Win's shoulders slumped once out of Team's sight; appearing disaffected was difficult.
The assortment of medical-looking supplies and needles had him quickly forgetting all about Team and whatever ink was being injected into his skin. Though as the piercer explained the process, he couldn't help his thoughts straying through the wall to him. Maybe this was the day Win got the courage? Use the adrenaline rush from a new piercing to speak to him?
The cool metal clamp on his ear brought Win back down to earth. He blew out a breath on the piercer's count, and the needle passed uneventfully through his cartilage. The hoop finagling into it was way worse. Win gritted his teeth as the pliers closed the hoop around the ball. If it was this easy, though, he already had another cartilage piercing in mind.
As his piercer chatted with him about that idea, Win noticed Team's eyes widen a hair at his approach. Did he not see him come in? Win swallowed at least two years of crush anxiety and his sneakers stopped.
"Hey." Team's eyes flicked up to Win and then back down. "What are you getting?"
"A tattoo."
Win fought every impulse he had to roll his eyes. The adrenaline did its job at making him bolder. Win crossed his arms and glared at Team.
"Ass. What tattoo are you getting?" Win asked. Team couldn't retaliate with a tattoo gun hovering over his skin.
"A geometric design."
"Hmm. Maybe I'll get one next time."
"You?" Team scoffed. "You want a tattoo?"
The incredulous tone had less bite than before. Or was it Win's imagination?
"Why not?"
"They're permanent, unlike your hair or your piercings. Honor students like you don't get tattoos."
Team knew he was an honor student? Then again, that wasn't hard to figure out. Win shrugged, casually resting his arms on the partition of the cubicle.
"So what? That shouldn't matter."
"Whatever." Team looked away from Win before hissing in pain. He was by himself.
"Do you... want someone with you? Until it's—the tattoo—is finished, I mean." Don't start falling over yourself now, Win!
"N— Ugh. Fine, yes."
Win pulled up a stool on the other side of the cubicle. Perched on top of it, he grabbed Team's outstretched hand. He was holding hands with Team! TEAM! WAS HOLDING! HIS HAND! And Team initiated it! Yeah, there was a tattoo involved, but... Ahhhhh! Win's ear could fall off and he wouldn't care. His day, week, month, and year were made after one simple gesture. Team's grip tightened around Win's hand each time the gun approached his elbow.
"Does it hurt that bad?" Intrigued, Win forgot himself and leaned over Team to get a better look at the process.
"Doesn't feel great." His voice was strained. "You get that today?" Win's head snapped around before retreating to the stool and his duty of emotional support to his crush/bully. He lightly touched his sore ear.
"Yeah. Hurts now more than when the needle went in."
"It... Looks nice."
WAS THAT A COMPLIMENT? FROM TEAM?
Win pressed his lips together, grasping at the tendrils of control necessary to not do cartwheels down the aisle of the tattoo parlor.
"Uhh, thanks. I think I want an Industrial next." Win almost laughed at how high Team raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, no shit? You must like finicky things. I don't have the patience to wait a year for a piercing to heal."
Win did like finicky things. He was holding the hand of one, right now in fact.
"I think they're cool, so it's worth the wait to me." Double meanings for the win.
Team's head dropped back against the reclining chair as more color ground into his skin, Win's hand caught in the crossfire. Jeez, he was strong. Win grimaced from the grip. As the needle departed, they both relaxed.
"Just the white left. It's going to be tender since I have to go back over where I already tattooed." Team's artist said while he nodded back at her.
"It'll be over soon." Though Win wished it wasn't true. "You're doing great." Win tested out a compliment of his own. He didn't know heads or tails about tattoos, so who knew whether Team was doing well or not. Didn't hurt to encourage him.
"You sound like my swimming coach," Team chuckled in spite of his gritted teeth.
Oh, right. The jock laying beside him was trying to swim himself into a scholarship while Win hit the books.
"Did you get that scholarship?" A confused look passed over Team's face for a second and Win thought he overplayed his hand. Showed he knew a bit too much about the person in front of him.
"Yeah. Pinyo University."
That was the same school Win was waiting to hear from!
"Cool." Keep it casual, Phawin. "Congrats."
"All done." The artist smiled as Team sat up. "What do you think?"
Team admired his new ink but Win spoke up.
"Oh, wow." To Win's surprise, Team angled his arm, so he had a better view. "That's beautiful." When he saw Team was getting a tattoo, Win would not have guessed it to be a colorful one, pegging him as the blackwork type.
Instead of a scowl, Team smiled from Win inspecting his arm. Sadness settled into Win's heart at the realization that this bubble of closeness was about to pop.
Win lingered outside the shop, waiting while Team paid. He didn't want to let this afternoon end, wracking his brain for ideas on how to keep it going. Maybe this was fate intervening and he could at least be friends with Team? Even if his feelings were one-sided?
Team appeared a bit surprised when he saw Win outside the shop, leaning against the building. Win had considered inviting him out for coffee, but it was closer to dinner than lunch. And dinner seemed way too formal and "date-like." The sun was hot overhead, which gave Win an idea.
"Uh, do you want to get ice cream? W-with me?" Win's shyness crept back in along with his nerves. "My treat, as congratulations on your scholarship." Team scratched at his neck, but said nothing. "Unless... You don't like ice cream?"
That wasn't the problem. Team liked ice cream, Team loved all food. The problem was guilt over being asked by Win—the person he tried to scare off rather than admit his own feelings for. For two years.
But what were the chances of Win picking the same shop for his piercing Team had for his tattoo? And Win could have ignored him. Could have let him squirm in pain by himself from his first tattoo, but he hadn't. Willingly, Win allowed Team to use him as his own personal stress ball despite how much of a jerk he was in the past.
Maybe this was a sign.
Maybe this was a chance.
"Who doesn't like ice cream? Sure, let's go."
