"It's bloody stupid is what it is."

"Language, Dad..." Enoch muttered sarcastically under his breath like his father told him every second day as he turned his back to tie on a plastic apron and wash his hands.

"Ya don't get ta tell me that, Enoch."

"Right, yeah, forgot that bit." The young man rolled his eyes and snapped the rubber gloves against the skin of his wrist as he tugged them on and turned around to push the tray of scalpels and clamps and other instruments closer to the bench. "Ain't that bad though right? Betta than a load'a piercings."

The topic of contention was the corpse in question, a man whose entire torso was covered in tattoos of everything from a dragon to a rose and including a detailed Balrog from Lord of the Rings. " I mean that's a bit much, sure."

Owen O'Connor said nothing at first but shot his son a quizzical look that clearly said 'seriously?' and held out his palm wordlessly for a scalpel which Enoch handed over. "Don't matter if it's one or fifty. I fink they're ridiculous. Why would ya do that ta yaself? Family are 'avin an 'ard rock funeral an' all."

"Well whatever. That's a bit...unusual but-"

"I don't fink you're in a position to call anyone unusual , Enoch."

"You're the one sayin' it 'bout tattoos." Enoch would have argued further with that if he didn't actually agree with the statement himself. So instead he bit his tongue and started to feed a plastic tube into the incision to the left of the man's breastbone.

He didn't mind the job really, he'd grown up with it in the family and worked with it since he was old enough to. It was supposed to be a family business, he was fated to inherit it someday being the eldest and only child. It was just the monotony of it that got to him. Sometimes he just wanted a little...well something even slightly different. Uni was that for him, had he chosen his classes for this year differently he could even have been on the track for a career in forensics and he'd considered it for a while before changing his mind. There had been a brief moment of madness during the last year of sixth form he'd even given serious thought to enlisting in the army. Enoch had always been interested in war and warfare, everything from the days of bayonets and swords to the present. He considered himself quite an expert when it came to the theory of all things military. Aside from science it had been the class he'd more than excelled in, one of the very few of them.
That had been a slightly mad idea though, and nothing ever came of it. He'd never even mentioned it to Olive and there was no way she'd have liked the idea anyway.

But that was all years ago now.

Father and son worked in silence and symmetry for the better part of an hour kneading and massaging the embalming fluid through rigor mortised limbs before the thought nagging at the back of his mind forced its way out of Enoch's lips.

"Dad?"

"Mmhm?"

"Why d'you 'ate tattoos that much? What's wrong wiv 'em?"

His father looked up as a strand of greying brown hair fell in front of his face the same way the same curl always fell down in front of Enoch's. Sometimes Enoch hated how similar he was to his father.

"You mean 'im? Or...generally? 'cause even then 'e went a bit overboard."

"Generally."

"I already said, lad, I fink they're ridiculous and a stupid fing ta do. Reason or not."

"Mmhm." Enoch just grunted and looked back down.

This time he gave it a few more minutes before taking a step back from the body and holding up his gloved, now discoloured from the fluid so he wouldn't touch anything else.
"What would ya do if I got one then? Disown me?" He drawled sarcastically, although it wasn't completely a joke, even if that action was a little, or a lot, extreme.

"Don't be daft, ya ain't gettin' a tattoo."

Enoch watched blankly as his father didn't do more than glance at him. He didn't believe Enoch would do it for a second. Maybe it was the dominant rebellious part of him that was done trying to earn approval but Enoch knew when someone was underestimating him.

"I might."

"No ya wouldn'."

"Just a little one, but I could."

Finally it started to work, he could see the irritation on his father's face as he looked over at him again.
"Enoch, ya ain't doin' that ta yaself."

"Obviously. I ain't an idiot."

"Good. End'a discussion."

"I'd get it done proper."

"Don't get smart with me, son. We both know ya wouldn' do it."

Enoch let it drop there and just coolly raised an eyebrow as if it were a challenge he had to take up.

xxxXxxx

"You won't believe who I ran into today, Enoch."

"Short of a leprechaun or the Queen, pretty sure I'd believe it. But I really don't care..." Enoch rolled his eyes and brushed past his mum into his room. She'd left a laundry basket on the end of his bed which he barely looked at. Maybe that was the one benefit of living at home was that he didn't have to do his own laundry. But that was a cross he was more than willing to bear to get out on his own.

"Aren't you wondering?"

" 'ave I ever? Just said I don't care, Mum. I got a paper due."

"Your future mother in law."

That got his attention, irritated as he was that she wasn't leaving him alone. Enoch whirled around and his eyebrows disappeared into his curls for a second.
"My what? Don't even..."

"Well I thought it would get your attention." She smiled that 'I told you so' triumphant smile mothers had when they'd gotten one over on their grown up, very opinionated child. "I ran into Olive's mum today."

"Yippee for you."

"She's coming home in a few weeks for the holidays, did you know."

"Course I bloomin' know."

"Well you don't tell me these things so what am I supposed to do?" She tutted and Enoch scowled when she placed her hands on her hips and walked into his room which immediately made him feel like he was being treated like a child again.
He elbowed shut the cracked open bedside drawer he was sure had left closed in the first place and sighed.

"Fine. What? Can ya 'urry up? I got work ta do."

"Enoch O'Connor, I am your mother and I deserve a little more respect than that."

Enoch sighed and had enough decency to look a little ashamed of himself as he raised his eyebrows expectantly. His mother smiled, apparently satisfied enough and crossed her arms over her chest.
"And she's invited us, all of us, out for dinner sometime these holidays when Olive's home."

"Say what?" Enoch's heart sank and his jaw did with it for a second before he ran a hand over his face and into his head. "Ya said no, right?"

She looked appalled. "Of course I didn't. You know we only really know Olive, I think we should actually meet her family, after all you're part of it."

He couldn't help scoffing in scorn at that comment and shook his head like she was mad. "No, I'm really not, it's a bad idea, Mum."

"Why on earth is that? Olive is a lovely girl and I'm very sure her parents are just as lovely people."

" 'er father still pretty much 'ates me. It's a bad idea." Enoch reiterated.

Evidently this was news to her because his mother immediately looked surprised. "Why on earth wouldn't he like you?"

Enoch stared at her like she really had gone mad. "Come on. I ain't exactly a great fit am I? You fink I don' know you an' dad thought somethin' must be wrong wiv me when I was in school?"

"Enoch, you're about to be twenty-one, surely something's changed there."

"An' 'aven't I been the same always? Why the 'ell would that change? Besides," Enoch scowled at a chipped point in the black painted doorframe. "Dad don't like me, so why should anyone else's?"

"I will not have you talking like that in this house, Enoch Reuben." She snapped and Enoch barely flicked his eyes over at her enough to see there was some bizarre mix of disappointment and old sadness in her face that suddenly made her look much older. "Your father loves you and you know that."

"Oh, do I?" He laughed, a short, harsh sound that held no humour in it whatsoever. "I ain't bloody doin' it, you can all talk 'bout me without me there, everyone does it anyway."

He'd won the battle the moment she swept out of his room finally leaving him alone. Not the ongoing war, but the battle. He stepped forward and slammed his door before dropping into his desk chair and burying his head in his hands on the desk. His long fingers wound into his hair and he growled to himself. This was certainly not even his worst and even now he was still hesitant to let Olive see it. Yes of course he hated it. It didn't make him feel good to lash out and blame his circumstances. He knew better than anyone how damn flawed a human being he was.
It took all his self-control to harness the awful concoction of loathing, bitterness and disappointment he was so accustomed to and suppress it all again.

If today, from start to finish, hadn't been another reminder that he was never going to be good enough, never going to fit anywhere he went then he didn't know what was.
Enoch sighed and opened up a web browser on his laptop just as his phone pinged.

Olive. Beautiful, happy, loving Olive was his ray of light in an otherwise thoroughly dim and cynical outlook on the world and he would be in a much worse place now if she hadn't come into his messed up life. He loved her for that and it was only a few weeks until she was home again for the Christmas holidays. Then it wouldn't be as bad.
He didn't say it out loud, but she did make him better, and he wanted to be better for her.

He set aside the phone, opened subconsciously to his pictures and turned back to his computer. In ten minutes he had googled and bookmarked exactly what he was looking for.
After all, if you were doomed not to be accepted, or fail...fail spectacularly.

xxxXxxx

Enoch hissed in unexpected pain as he directly collided with someone strolling by the second he left the building.
"Oh sorry, mate." The passing fellow turned briefly as Enoch scowled after him and, in unison, the both of them performed what might have been a comical double take if Enoch hadn't been wincing at the pain in his ribs.
Of all the people in London in the holiday season, it happened to be Hugh Apiston, clearly back from Bristol now, who had walked right into him.

"No way!" Hugh grinned and reached up to adjust the cap on his head as he stepped to the side, beside a lamppost and out of the direct bustle. Enoch, somewhat reluctantly, did the same and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The last time he'd seen any of he and Olive's friends who were now based in Bristol had been months ago in August before everyone's various degrees started up again.

"Of all people to walk into, I was just thinking all of us should probably catch up."

"Should we?

Hugh's ever present grin, quite the contrast to Enoch's uninterested and expressionless face, only grew. "Course! Is Olive back yet?"

"Next week." Enoch replied stoically and hand curled into a fist in his pocket as he made a very conscious effort not to touch his left side. "Didn' know you were all back."

"Well, just Fi and I at the moment, Em's coming back next week too."

"Where is Fiona? 'fought ya were joined at the 'ip?" Enoch muttered and his cool eyes immediately scanned the crowd as if he expected the quiet girl's wild mane of windswept red hair to suddenly appear behind Hugh somewhere.
The other guy grinned sheepishly.

"Well I was pickin' up her Christmas present so no, she's not with me today." He lowered his voice, quite unnecessarily and without Enoch inviting him to or even caring in the slightly, proceeded to bother to tell Enoch what he had gotten his girlfriend. Something which Enoch was not remotely interested in hearing about. "Don't tell, as if you would anyway, but it's a promise ring."

"What the bloody 'ell is a promise ring?"

He shouldn't have asked, that was mistake number one because now he had to suffer through Hugh talking about it more.
"Like a pre-engagement ring, ya know?"

"Clearly I don't. Don't bother tellin' me I got the point." Enoch rolled his eyes. As if anything could possible sound more unnecessary than a 'pre-engagement ring'. The whole of England might as well know that Fiona and Hugh, whom Olive had accidentally referred to as Fugh once when she was tired, were going to end up married in a few years undoubtedly. What kind of stuff and nonsense was a promise ring supposed to achieve. But whatever, that was Hugh's prerogative.

"Well clearly you wouldn't bother with something like that."

"Don't even bring it up, Hugh." Enoch shut him up very quickly and Hugh scoffed and blew a strand of loose light brown hair out of his own face as he looked across the pavement.

Enoch actually saw realisation in progress as Hugh's eyes fell onto the shop across from them that Enoch had just come out of. Or rather not a store as such. The tattoo parlour Enoch had just walked out of.
His brow furrowed for a second and a sort of confused grin widened as Hugh stared at him again. "Wait...what were you even doing here?"

Enoch just huffed out a breath which misted in the cold air and shook his head to himself.
"Bloody 'ell..."

"No way. You didn't just..."

"What do people normally do there, Hugh? Not 'ave a tea party or nofin'."

Hugh let out a loud laugh that made an elderly lady walking a dog that Enoch could only describe as a rat on a leash look over as she passed by.
"I don't believe it. You?! No way."

Enoch just glared at him and pulled his hands out of his pocket to pull his jacket and shirt up on his left side just a few inches to show the small, gauze patch below his ribs. He tugged his jacket back down again and returned his hands to his pockets as Hugh just stared at him in disbelief.

"Blimey, what on earth made you do that?"

There had definitely been a significant amount of spite involved when Enoch booked himself in. A rebellious desire to annoy his parents even more by getting a tattoo. But that alone would not have been quite enough to endure two and a half hours of sharp, constant pain and have him biting down on his shirt to keep from gasping out.

" 'Cause I could." Was all the reason he offered and shrugged his shoulders.

"If you tell me it says 'Olive' I'm never gonna believe it's real."

"Do I look like the guy 'oo'd get 'is girlfriend's name tattooed?" The sarcasm was thick in his heavily accented voice as Enoch rolled his eyes.

"You don't look like the guy who'd get a tattoo at all. Well...I don't know actually now. You are all into the creepy...dark, gory stuff I guess-it's a heart isn't it? Or some kind of skeleton."

Enoch rolled his eyes and was momentarily distracted by the curl that blew down in front of his face again. He brushed it away in frustration.

"Yeah, fine, skull. Whatever, it ain't a big deal."

"Did Olive like the idea of it? Somehow I don't think-"

"She doesn't know so don't go blabbin'. She'll see it when she sees it."

Hugh snorted. "Good luck then. Fiona would kill me if I didn't tell her something like that."

"Yeah don't bloomin' tell 'er either. I know enough about girls ta know they talk.

xxxXxxx

It wasn't until six hours later that Enoch stood in front of the mirror, peeling off the taped protective gauze below his ribs and exposing red, still very tender skin and the ink now emblazoned on it. It was simple enough, just a black and grey skull a little smaller than the size of his fist. He wouldn't ever have more than one, that was for sure, but he had kind of liked the idea of it. It wasn't exposed, it was easy to hide and no one would know if he didn't want them to. Besides, it felt good to prove his father wrong, and that he would damn well get a tattoo if he wanted one. Yes he dared. They didn't know him. He was an adult, not a minor and he didn't need approval or permission.

"Oh my goodness, what is that?!"

Enoch dropped his shirt in surprise. Although, he had left the bathroom door wide open which was hardly demanding privacy. Sure enough, his mother was staring at him like she'd never seen her son before with a look somewhere between shock and revulsion on her face. He'd known from the start she wouldn't be any more approving of the idea of tattoos that his dad was but that was not Enoch's problem.
"Enoch, you didn't?!"

"Apparently I did." Enoch rolled his eyes and threw the gauze into the wastebasket.

"Exactly what is your father going to say about that?!"

"Any number'o profanities. I'm twenty-one, I really don't care. 'e practically dared me to anyway and ya can't even see it normally. What's the big deal wiv that?"