Title: Red

Word count: 200

Author's Notes: angst, death again, sadness, knives, did I mention death? There is no plot. This is a double drabble.

Red. Everything is red. The white tiles are red. His black denim jeans are red. His dark blue shirt is red. Red. Everything. Is. Red. His body is slumped against the bathtub, knife sill tightly wrapped around his hand. The blade is also red. Red fluid is spilling out of his wrists. His once pale skin is red. His eyes are closed, his mouth shut, his head resting on his chest. He looks as is he's asleep. If it hasn't been for all the red. When Anthony gets home, this is the view that is gonna welcome him. He doesn't know it yet. He's outside unlocking the front door. Now he's stepping inside his apartment. He's humming. He's entering the living room. Now the bedroom. He's about to open the bathroom door. He screams. He falls to his knees beside the body. He tries to stop the red fluids from leaving the veins. He can't stop screaming. As if his cries of pain will wake him up. He tugs on his friend's body, pulling him into his lap, clenching his fingers into the lifeless arms. No reaction. So much red. Red is the only thing he sees. Everything is red.