Colours

Jungkook was blue. Everything about him was drenched in blue, blue, blue. The three oversized sweaters that hung in his wardrobe, torn and ripped at the hems. His cold, blank gaze that didn't really seem to see. The deep, sore, bruise on his cheek. His heart that beat slowly, just underneath another sweater and the dents of his ribcage, unused and frozen.
Everyone around him was grey. Taehyung and the crystalline wings that grew from his shoulder blades, grey. Jimin, perfect yet transparent, grey. Hoseok and the pills no one else knew he overdosed on, grey. Namjoon and the haunted memories he carried with him, grey. The smoke that rose in wisps from Yoongi's cigarette, grey. The money Seokjin earned for them through prostitution, the flowers of guilt that bloomed in his chest, all grey.

Jungkook couldn't tell the difference. He didn't know what it meant, to be blue. He just knew he wasn't like them.