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Jackson’s favourite colour is black. He always thought Mark wore it so well. It was strange, Jackson thought, how a colour could represent not only things, but emotions, and memories.
The first time Jackson leant in to Mark, half drunk, and pressed a kiss onto his lips, a kiss that lingered a second too long for it to be a friend thing, he saw black in Mark’s eyes. Jackson couldn’t decide if it was fear or anger. But either way he was scared, his mind already noting the event as the biggest mistake he had ever made. When Mark kissed him back after a second of hesitation, Jackson thought that it might’ve been the colour of surprise.
One day, Mark and Jackson found themselves play fighting, using it as an excuse to have their hands all over each other, when they had found themselves in a compromising position. Mark straddling Jackson’s lap, his hands pinned above his head. They stilled for a moment, Jackson looking up at Mark, a twinkle in his eye telling the older that this wasn't finished, the only sound filling the room was the two men catching their breath. Until Jinyoung opened the bedroom door, both their heads sharply turning across the room, seeing who caught them. Whatever Jinyoung was going to say never came out, as he stared for a second before closing the door. It slowly creeped in, but they both felt shame. Shame of being caught, of not telling their members. It blanketed the room in a black cloud, as Mark let go of Jackson’s hands, and climbed off his lap, eyes unable to meet each other. Mark left the room and Jackson felt the black choking him.
Jackson had been watching a music video on his phone, it had a same-sex couple in it. Jackson couldn't help the black thoughts that swirled through his head. The unbound sadness that made his heart ache as he worried about getting outed. How it would affect (ruin) the group’s career, their reputation, but foremost, his relationship with Mark. He wanted to scream from the rooftops how he so deeply loved Mark Tuan, let the world know that two souls from across the world had managed to cross paths, and had bonded the moment they were in the same room.
He wanted to, but didn’t think he should.
The first time Jackson couldn't perform with them on their Japanese dates, it hurt so bad. But he knew why it had happened, he was doing his own thing, and made a show of being ok with it all. He toughened up and calmed the others down with promises of seeing each other again soon. He tried and failed to ignore the dark undertones of Mark’s goodbye, the grey deepening to black in the unmistakable sorrow of his words.
When Mark came brandishing a gift from Japan, Jackson’s heart pounded in his chest with love and admiration. It was a beautifully packaged box, wrapped with ribbon, that held a black candle, claiming it smelt like “Tokyo”, Mark mumbled something about how he was unsure what that would smell like, and only chose it for the colour. Jackson couldn't help but but smile as he leant across and kissed Mark, thanking him for being so thoughtful.
In the early mornings, the rare times in which Jackson wakes up a few minutes before his alarm, he always finds himself watching the man next to him. Mark looks so beautiful without trying, Jackson thinks, even when he is asleep. He has such a peaceful aura. Sometimes Jackson cuddles in close and litters Mark’s neck and profile with little kisses, gently waking him up, but not today. He settles on enjoying the calm before their day begins, eyes tracing over Mark’s exposed skin, pale and smooth, a stark contrast to Jackson’s black bed sheets.
Mark shoots Jackson a text, a collection of photos he’d snapped of himself on a computer screen. Some of the shots that are getting used for his latest magazine cover. Jackson beams with pride as his eyes quickly take in the varying outfits and poses his boyfriend is in. He looks divine. He’s so proud of Mark, and how quickly he is jumping from magazine covers, to brand deals, his future is looking bright. Jackson forgets what he is doing for a moment as his emotions and thoughts of his boyfriend take over his brain, a strong black swirling of content and joy for the other’s behalf, dark and strong. Jackson tried his best to push the thoughts to the back of his head as they began to take a more lustful tone.
To say Jackson’s favourite colour isn't technically a colour, it is the lack of, he was always surprised by how much range it has.