He sat, crouched against the window, black hair hanging down his face. Only one ice-blue eye was visible. He was pale, almost deathly so, as the black of his clothes and hair made him look like a sheet of paper. His thin,pale fingers reached up to his neck, exposing his chipped, black polish as he fingers two red marks at the crook of his neck. He bit his pink lips. Fangs poking gently into his lip as he smirked. His black eyeliner was slightly smudged as he brought a hand up to rub his weary eyes. He stumbled across the floor and collapsed into a soft, comforting bed. He curls up into the black sheets, almost disappearing into the darkness. He yawns as his eyes flutter shut. Turning away from the open window, Jackson falls into a deep sleep.
