2.6 | Forget Me Not ✓

-1 || iris germanica

A/N

I promised weekly updates and I'm here to deliver! Just a heads' up, we're just past the halfway point of this story, I think...? This story confuses me a lot because of the chapter titles—in retrospect, I really shouldn't have numbered it like that!

If you ever need to contact me, please message me on my instagram (hepburnetteswp)! It's a lot easier for me there since my wattpad inbox is pretty full.

Happy reading!

x Noelle

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– 1

i r i s   g e r m a n i c a

For hope.

(then: –1)

"WHERE ARE WE going?"

At her question, he shoots her a glance over his shoulder and grins. "What part of 'it's a surprise' don't you get?" he says, tugging her along when she falters.

"The surprise part," she admits. "You know I'm not good with those. If it's anything too big or scary, you're not going to have the reaction you were hoping for."

"Don't look so worried, it's honestly not that big a deal. Here we are," he says, pulling her to a halt in front of a shop.

She blinks at the big neon sign on the storefront. "You brought me to a tattoo place?"

"Yes."

"Are you making me get a tattoo?"

He laughs at that. "No, but you're welcome to if you want one. Preferably somewhere only I know about," he adds teasingly, and they're in that stage of a relationship where the slightest innuendo makes her blush. He smirks at that, and holds the door open for her. "No, I'm the one getting a tattoo. I had to book a slot because this place is pretty popular."

She nods and looks around at the art on the wall, and the various tattoo designs on display, while he checks in at the counter. When he returns, he pulls her towards the empty space on the bench. They sit for a moment or two in silence, with only the echo of faint buzzing in the background, until she can't stop her curiosity. "What're you going to get?"

"I don't know," he says with a shrug. He studies the designs on the wall for a few seconds, before he asks, "What do you think about the head of Medusa on my chest?"

She stares at him, torn between amusement and horror. Given his totally straight face, she can't for the life of her decide whether he's joking or not. "I, uh...well, it's your choice and I respect that. I'll probably have to blindfold my eyes or something, or we'll have to do it in the dark, just so I won't get nightmares."

He chuckles. "I was only joking," he says, to her relief. "But I'll admit, I'm kind of tempted to get it now that I know how accommodating you'll be."

She rolls her eyes at him, and he winks back—a silent banter that only the two of them understand. In the back of her mind, she wishes desperately to capture this moment: the gleam in his eyes, the curve of his lips, sunlight threaded in his hair. She wants to close her eyes to remember it, but every second she closes her eyes means a little less time to look at him.