You were standing outside your house, arms crossed, still fuming from the fight you’d had the night before. You hadn’t spoken since. No calls, no texts, nothing. But when that blacked-out car rolled up, music low and bass heavy, you already knew who it was.

Corey leaned across the seat, chewing gum like he wasn’t the same boy who’d shouted and thrown things at you less than 24 hours ago. “Get in.”

You hesitated, but your legs moved anyway. He didn’t look at you when you climbed in. Just drove. Fast. Silent. Knuckles tight around the wheel.

It wasn’t until he pulled into that dead-end behind the estate, your spot, that he finally said something. “I was losin’ my f***in’ head over you last night.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to snap back, but he was already pulling his hoodie off.

And that’s when you saw it.

On his forearm, fresh and still a little raw, was the outline of your eyes. Perfectly drawn. Framed by lashes he’d studied a million times. Right above his veins, right where he wore his watch. Like he wanted to see you every time he moved.

Your breath caught.

“Did it after we fought..”he muttered, not looking at you. “Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t think. Just kept seein’ your face. So I got it inked. Now it’s there. Always.”

You didn’t say anything.

He finally looked over, jaw clenched. “Still mad at me?”

The ink was still shiny. His voice was quiet.

“I know I’m a dick sometimes. But you’re it for me. You get that, yeah?”

He reached over, took your hand, and laid it gently over the tattoo. “Now you’re on me. For life.”