“It’s your name!”
“I know that; I’m just saying that you chose a nice font, and the artist was clearly talented!”
“It’s three letters. A child with a Sharpie could accomplish that,” Rusty seethed.
Gem grimaced. “You’ve clearly never seen my little brother try to write the alphabet.”
With a wordless roar of impotent rage, Rusty turned away from Gem and scratched at the letters, ignoring the sharp, biting pain it caused.
“Stop!” Gem lunged for him, capturing his hands before he could rub away the scabs. “Don’t do that. You’ll ruin it.”
“What?” Rusty demanded as he fought against Gem’s hold. “I want to ruin it!”
“Trust me, you really don’t,” Gem insisted as he pinned Rusty’s arms at his sides and captured his face and shoulders in his other hands. His eight eyes were wild as he continued, “If you mess with it, it will heal badly and scar. You might not be able to remove it at all, which means you’ll live the rest of your life with my name scarred into your ass!”
“Oh my gods,” Rusty whined.
“I know,” Gem commiserated miserably.
“Oh my gods!” Rusty bellowed.
“I know!” Gem shrieked.
“I’m gonna puke again,” Rusty warned, and Gem released him instantly.
Staggering to the toilet, he collapsed to his knees and surrendered to another furious round of retching. Gem rummaged through several drawers, then turned on the faucet. By the time the bout of sickness had passed, Gem had a cool, wet cloth at the ready, and Rusty used it to clean his mouth.
“Fuck, just kill me,” he croaked. “Seriously, Gem, kill me.”
With a huff, Gem leaned against the bathroom counter and crossed several arms over his torso. “It’s just a hangover. Stop being dramatic.”
“It’s not the hangover.” Rusty shot Gem another glare. “I just can’t live another second with yournametattooed above my ass!”
Gem frowned. “Well, now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.”
Rolling his eyes, Rusty gathered the sour saliva in his mouth and spat it into the basin. “So where’s yours then?”
“My what?” Gem asked as he rubbed the skin between his largest eyes.
Rusty flushed the toilet and wiped his face clean as he collapsed back against the shower stall door. “Your tattoo.” Eyes flying open, Gem stiffened, and Rusty grimaced. “Oh gods, please don’t tell me you tattooed my name on your dick or something.”
Impossibly, Gem seemed to pale further, skin lightening to an ashy pallor. “So, the thing is—and trust me, you’re totally gonna laugh about this,” he said with a weak titter. “You know, eventually.”
Rusty narrowed his eyes, and Gem pointedly looked away, studying the light fixture on the ceiling as he cleared his throat noisily. “So, I was fully on board with the tattoo. I was so ready for it, even though I have a slight phobia of needles. But I was going to be so brave, you don’t even know!”
Dread crept into Rusty’s chest as Gem continued to avoid eye contact, looking everywhere but at him. “But then you went first, and the artist brought out the needles and started stabbing you with them, and I… I just… I may have gotten nauseous and light-headed. I hadn’t eaten in a couple hours, so my blood sugar was low. Or maybe it was just the ridiculously high blood-alcohol content—”
“Gem!” Rusty barked, jolting the Araknis out of his ramble before he was too far gone. He fell silent and withered under Rusty’s furious glower. “Where’s your tattoo?”
“Um, it’s actually nowhere because I may not have actually… done it,” he finally confessed in a whisper.
A beat of tense silence fell between them. Rusty glared. Gem cowered away.
“You’re telling me,” Rusty said, voice low and cold, “that after everything, afteryousuggested it, you stood by and watched me get a tramp stamp with your name on it, and when it was your turn, you sacked the fuck out?”
With a whine, Gem fidgeted his many hands and cringed. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? It’s a yes or no question. Did you get the fucking tattoo or not?” Rusty spat out between clenched teeth.
