This is just a short little Stydia fic that was inspired by a post I saw on tumblr. Please read and review!

The first time he saw red; it was in the form of a braid. It was french, he thinks, with rebellious wisps escaping their silky restraints. She sat on top of the chipping monkey bars, the bright rays of sun exaggerating her fearlessness. She was a goddess with the bravery of a warrior. She was the only one in Mrs. Robertson's third grade class that had the audacity to correct their all-knowing teacher, or climb all the way to the top of the swing set. She was the color of power.

The second time he saw red; it was in the form of an emotion. He saw them from across the hallway, making out at his locker. It was always his locker… would he ever go to her?He watched as the other boy's hand tangled itself in her bright hair. The hair that now had all of its wisps meticulously curled, not one strand brave enough to protest her wish for perfection. But underneath her carefully calculated masquerade, he could still see her true colors. She was a queen in princess's clothing, capable of so much more than she was leading on. He knew the truth, he knew could save her. He was the color of determination.

The third time he saw red; it was in the form of a sickening crimson. He felt her fall before he even knew what was happening. It was unfathomable to him that the bright, shining color of her long flowing hair could come in such a horrid shade. The dark color was a stark contrast to the pure white of her now wrinkled party dress. It dripped eerily out of the claw marks down her side, dragging her innocence with it. His face burned with bottled up emotions; he begged the monster before him to take him instead, to spare the life of his queen. She would never be the same again. He was the color of anger.

The fourth time he saw red; it was in the form of simple nail polish. He was told she was wearing that color when she died. He was told she was wearing it when the ugly crimson color returned, maliciously staining her dark jacket as well as his best friend's hands. All he could remember was the damp ground underneath him, and his goddess's bright hair in his face. Her curls wet with stray tears that managed to miss her flushed cheeks, sneakily escaping her running charcoal colored mascara. But today they were all plagued with charcoal colors, their faces misted with salty tears, holding back sobs until they wanted to scream. Yet, somehow, their fallen friend's nails were still fiery with passion. It was the one part of her that remained truly her. They needed to stay strong. They were the color of warriors.

The fifth time he saw red; it was in the form of happiness. They'd just vanquished the latest demon to grace their small town, and there was a rare feeling of lightness in the air. She allowed her hair to style itself, copper locks falling in loose waves over her soft skin. She was once again a goddess; a queen, and he was a king. They ruled over their own kingdom, where the castles were tied to their heartstrings. He always knew just how to make her cherry colored lips smile, even on the darkest of days. Her sweet lips that tasted of honey, and were as full as his heart was right now. They knew they would be ok, as long as they stuck together. They were the color of love.