It was around eleven o’ clock at night; the enormous campus of the University of London was dark, the moon hanging lazily in the sky was almost full, and the bright, sparkling windows began to fade to black as the students began to turn themselves in for the night. One dorm room read 669 on the door, but the number often slipped, so it usually read 666. The lights remained on inside the dorm room and there was a noise wafting under the door and down the dark hallways; the very distinct sound of music playing.
Gyrating in his t-shirt and boxer shorts to bad-boy grunge, Kazarian Jermaine straddled his best friend and roommate Seamus Finnigan (who was also wearing a t-shirt and boxers) on one of the twin single beds. The window was propped open with a sneaker, looking a bit like someone’s foot was caught inside. Around the two of them, many candles burned. There was a dead bolt on their door. Additionally, their room housed an attached full bath. The floor was thick with paranormal books and the walls were covered with images of the legends: Kurt Cobain, Aaliyah, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Keith Moon, Dale Earnhardt, Tupac Shakur, Jim Morrison, Michael Jackson, The Beatles, Mick Jagger, Selena, etc. Above Seamus’ bed, a framed portrait of Irena Foh Shen held a place of honor. Above Kazarian’s bed was an old Polaroid of the boys at fifteen in their Halloween costumes; Monty Python and Morgana. Seamus was Morgana.
Both boys in question were seventeen years of age; tall, quite thin and fair-skinned. Seamus had shoulder-length dark hair with waves at the ends, sharp Jewish features, and a devious glint in his green eyes. While cuter Kazarian had a wide, heart-shaped face, softer, gentler features, and thick black hair that fell past his shoulders. Kazarian also wore black eye liner, lipstick and nail polish. Seamus wore glasses. “Kazar, quit dicking around and just do it already.” Kazar stopped his thrashing and rolled his eyes. Standing, he doused a cotton ball in a jar of rubbing alcohol while Seamus lifted up his left sleeve to expose his shoulder. Kazar gently swabbed Seamus’ upper arm and shoulder with the wet cotton ball and produced an enormous darning needle and a small stencil of a woman’s silhouette from his bureau drawer. The needle glinted ominously in the light, but nevertheless, Kazar leveled it at Seamus’ shoulder, his hand shaking slightly. “Ready?” He asked him. “Uh-huh.” Seamus muttered without looking up from his Movie Mirror magazine.
Kazar sighed. How in the world did he let Seamus talk him into this? It all started when the two of them were watching “Weird, True, and Freaky” on television and it showed a tutorial on how to give yourself a tattoo at home, and of course Seamus got the brilliant idea of Kazar giving him a tattoo of Irena Foh Shen on his shoulder. At first Kazar thought he was just joshing with him until Seamus had stolen a stencil, black tattoo ink, and a needle from a tattoo parlor a few towns over.
“Seamus, look…I can’t…” Kazar sighed, lowering the needle. “Why don’t you just get Irena at the tattoo parlor that you as a matter of fact stole from?” Seamus gave him a look over the top of his magazine. “Hello? It’s free, and I got my best friend doing it!” Seamus said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Now do it!” Kazar sighed again and lined the needle up a second time. After dipping it in the ink nearby and placing the stencil over Seamus’ shoulder, he applied pressure and the needle pierced Seamus’ skin. “Ouch!” Seamus screamed. “I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt, Shay.” Kazar teased as he moved the needle throughout the stencil, filling the spaces with black. “Just hurry up, Kazar!” Seamus seethed through clenched teeth.
Twenty minutes of screaming, swearing and blood later, Kazar wiped the cold sweat off of his forehead and tried to remove the needle from his best friend’s shoulder. His skin tugged with it, resisting. “Uh-oh.” Kazar wiggled the needle around and blood welled up around it. “Um, Seamus?” “What?” “I think it’s stuck.” Seamus opened his eyes and looked at his shoulder. He cracked up seconds later. “It’s not funny, Shay!” Kazar yelled. “So why am I laughing?” Seamus laughed his head off and gave the needle a good tug. This time it moved. “Okay, I got it.” Kazar successfully pulled out the needle and reached for a gauze bandage on the bureau. “Let me just put the bandage on.” He reached for the bandage but knocked over the bottle of tattoo ink in the process, causing it to fall and spill all over a laundry basket of Seamus’ underpants. “Kazar?! Come on now!” Kazar scrambled after the bandage and picked it up. He quickly placed the bandage over the wound and then wiped his bloody hands on his bed sheets. “You alright, Shay?” He asked. “Yeah, you feeb. I’m fine. Are you?” “Yeah, I think so.” Kazarian muttered. “Yeah, I think not.” Seamus teased as he looked at his new tattoo through the translucent bandage. He grinned. “Pretty cool, huh?” Kazar returned the grin. “Very cool.” Seamus sat up and picked up the needle. “Now I’ll do you.” Kazar’s grin faded. “What?”