You’d left a scar on his heart.

A permanent blemish, an eternal kiss mark left on the centre of his beating flesh.

He’d given it to you reluctantly, at first. The fear of betrayal kept his hands chained to his sides whenever you offered affection, his mouth stitched closed when you’d compliment him.

Jason knew your love had changed him, even if it was just behind closed doors. Even that alone was a jarring difference to what he knew about himself.

He’d always told himself he wasn’t worth your love, that you were so…perfect in his eyes if you told him you’d set the sun ablaze with your lips he would have believed you. After all, when you kissed him it always felt hot, firey, like it actually meant something.

The scar wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t think it was anyway. It was probably the only scar on his body that Jason didn’t think was repulsive.

After all, you’d left it there, even if it wasn’t on purpose.

He jumped a little as you called his name, he must have zoned out looking at you again.

A random movie played on the tv, Jason’s head was in your lap. His eyes weren’t on the screen though, they were fixed to the far superior sight of your face.

“What? I’m fine.” He said quickly, “just…thinking, I guess.” Jason cracked a smile, taking your hand in his own and holding it to his chest.

He hoped you could feel the mark you left on him, hoped you could feel how deep his love went. After all, you were the sole thing keeping him sane anymore.