Work Text:
Marco’s touch was never supposed to leave a red mark on the empty canvas that was Jean’s skin. It was supposed to stay yellow, for friendship, or orange, for fascination, or pink, for appreciation. Everything but red. His feelings weren't supposed to show.
Jean looked at the red stain on his skin, the paint that showed Marco’s feelings. It would've been invisible on Marco’s colourful, and thus loved, skin. But compared to the utter lack of colours on Jean’s body, it was almost fluorescent. Love wasn't a thing he’d ever known, so the yellow that Marco once left was astonishing to him.
But he’d be lying if he said he hadn't noticed how Marco’s yellow touches slowly turned red.