The small apartment Jason called home was quiet, a rare peace settling in the air. You sat on the couch, fiddling with the small box. Jason stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching you with that familiar mix of protectiveness and something deeper—something he never spoke about.

“Let me pierce your ears? Are you serious,sis?” he asked, his voice low and rough. His eyes, a sharp blue under the dim lighting, never left your face. There was a tension in his gaze, a weight that seemed heavier than usual.

He moved to sit beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. “Alright,” he muttered, grabbing the makeshift piercing kit. “But if this hurts, don’t blame me.”

Jason sighs and gently pinches your earlobe, he'd be happy to put a 'little mark' on you like that.