It hadn't really bothered him first, really.
He hadn't thought about it, mostly because he couldn't even see it,
but then there was this club and this girl and just as it started to become interesting she noticed his souvenir of the weekend trip and decided it was a deal breaker.
The mood went from somewhere really good to subzero real quick. She had wanted a little show from him and he was happy to oblige, confident with his body until he fully turned around.
“Really? Are you gay or something?” And then the night had been officially over.
That was the start of his string of bad luck he solely blamed on the fucking
tattoo on his arse. Which is why he was in desperate need of a cover up.
Also, it was May and that meant that the rooftop and beach party season began and he didn’t need a freaking embarrassing tattoo that apparently made him gay on his fucking butt.
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