Colours ( MarkSon )

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

Ｐｕｒｐｌｅ

Littered in deep purple marks.

Dotted down his neck and chest.

Ugly bruises he never wanted

It had been two weeks since the day he had gotten sick at Jacksons.

He had stayed there again on Jacksons request after silence for those 14 days.

When he arrived it was almost instant, the way he was grabbed without a word and thrown onto his bed.

Sun shone through peeks in the blinds and the red head sighed, listening to Jackson shuffle beside him.

" Good morning Princess "

He purred, kissing a large purple bruise on his neck.

Mark stayed still, not even blinking as the kiss was planted.

He stayed that way for a couple hours, still. Lost within his own head as the pleasant scent of pancakes frying filled his nose.

He sat with Jackson for breakfast but didn't speak, barley touching his food.

" What the fuck is with you? You are pissing me off, stop moping around "

The brown haired male huffed, shoving a fork full of his food into his mouth.

Mark inhaled, hugging his knees to his chest, wooden chair just big enough for him to sit like that.

Another 5 minutes of silence.

Jackson huffed and threw his utensils down.

" Fucking speak bitch "

He growled in irritation.

He was so used to Mark listening to him.

Mark just sat there, eyes unmoving as he stared at the grooves in the wood table, blank expression on his pale face.

Two hands slammed down, shaking the said table slightly before a harsh punch collided with Marks jaw, and he fell off his chair.

Knees slamming against the floor and arm caught under him. He was taken back and tears filled his eyes.

" I told you to fucking speak and stop moping around what the fuck is wrong with you? If I'm gonna fuck someone I don't want them to act like some depressed whore or some shit afterwards. You're lucky we aren't actually together because I wouldn't be able to handle your retarded ass everyday. Fuck. "

Burning flames of brown eyes glared down at the boy on the floor who's eyes leaked.

A kick to the rib and he was told to leave.

So as he stood in the bathroom at home, not answering Jaebum or Yugyeom when they asked where he'd been.

And he lifted his shirt, eyeing countless purple hickeys and a darker bruise forming along where his ribs were alined.

A Forming bruise along his jaw line and his neck full.

Purple used to be a colour he liked, found pretty.

Pretty on lavender and pastel shirts he liked to wear.

Shimmering in sunsets and reflective among stars.

But now he didn't like that colour so much.

Purple was a painful colour