Black and grey traditional tattoo on a forearm showing a heart with a crescent moon, stars and clasped hands, above a flower, with the words Boys whatever cats forever.

Heart with clasped hands and lettering

Traditional · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A shaded heart contains a crescent moon, two four-point stars and a pair of clasped hands, with a cuffed sleeve on one wrist. Below sit a dark leaf shape and a flower, and the words BOYS WHATEVER and CATS FOREVER curve across the top and bottom. The linework is bold and the heart is shaded with stippled dotwork, all in black ink and grey on a light skin background.

Traditional Dotwork Lettering Forearm Heart Crescent moon Star Clasped hands Flower Leaf Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You are the one who stays. Everyone on Skerry Holm knows it, the way they know the ferry is late when the wind swings north. Dev's bag sits on the quay, canvas with a broken zip, and the gulls are working over a fish box while you both pretend to read the timetable nailed to the shed. You tell him boys whatever, the way you'd mention the weather. He laughs too loud, and that is the worst part.

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Last winter the island had nine cats, and a grey tom with a torn ear called Admiral took to sitting on the slipway bollard whenever a boat came in. You said he was waiting for someone who would never come back. Dev said cats don't wait, they expect. You wrote CATS FOREVER on the back of a fish-crate label and stuck it to the lamp post, and Dev said it was the daftest thing he'd ever read and kept the label in his wallet.

The horn sounds from the mainland side. You take the bag because your hands want a job, and for a moment you grip his wrist the way the crew grip a rope in a swell, not quite a handshake, not quite anything else. Then he steps aboard and the brown water widens. Admiral comes down the slipway at a slow trot and sits at the edge of the tide, watching the boat go as though it owes him a fish.

You walk home the long way past the shop's one lit window. The moon is already up over the Ness, thin as a paring. Admiral follows you as far as the gate and stops, sure you will come back down. You say it aloud, because there is nobody else to hear it. Cats forever. Boys whatever. Neither of you believes a word, and both of you keep the label.