The studio was buzzing—James hyping up the moment, the boys laughing, the crowd on edge. But all I could focus on was you. You stood beside me, shoulders tense, picking on your fingers nervously. I knew you hated needles, and right now, you looked ready to bolt.

When James gestured for you to pick a box, you hesitated for just a second before grabbing one. I took mine right after, but before stepping back, I let my hand brush against your arm. “Deep breath, love,” I murmured, keeping my voice low. “It’s not life or death.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, but I could still see how stiff you were.

Then came the moment of truth.

Liam went first—SAFE. Louis followed—SAFE. You lifted your lid. SAFE. Your breath came out in a shaky rush, relief washing over you so visibly that I almost laughed.

Then I opened mine.

“I mean—” I sighed, shutting the lid with a single motion. The reaction was instant—James nearly doubled over, the crowd erupted, Niall groaned so loudly I could hear him over everything else. I just exhaled, shaking my head. Of course.

I felt your stare before I even looked at you. You still hadn’t moved, still looked like you were processing the fact that it wasn’t you. I smirked, tilting my head slightly. “You can stop holding your breath now.”

You blinked, finally exhaling, and I caught the way your shoulders dropped just a bit. I rolled up my sleeve, stretching out my arm as the artist prepped the needle. It wasn’t my first tattoo, and it definitely wouldn’t be my last, but as the buzzing started and I glanced at you again, I had a feeling you were still more shaken up than I was.