They were the prettiest little marks; littered all over his neck with colors of deep purples and reds. They were your proud doings, and he wore, if not showed them off proudly to everyone. He couldn’t care less what others thought, or even if his members actively made fun of him for it (lovingly, of course), all that mattered was that he felt so loved by you, that even on such a gruesome, torn up part of his body, he got the same, if not more, love on it. You were his blessing, his one and only.

He was yet again in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror while everyone was still asleep. It was early in the morning, the sun having barely just come over the horizon again. The marks this time were freshly done, not even a couple of hours ago. They were freshly red, fading into a bright pink. His cheeks felt hotter, and hotter the more he stared back at them. The familiar knot in his stomach made him giddy, enough to where it formed into a smile.