Blood
Derek banged on his boyfriend's door insistently, annoyed when his first couple of knocks went unanswered. He had resorted to repeatedly pounding onto the wood of door loudly, but still resulting in nothing more than irritated glares from some of the lingering Windsors.
He just ignored them. This was too important.
"Dwight! Dammit, open your door!"
Worry was starting to swirl in the pit of his stomach. It had almost been two entire minutes of repetitive knocking on the door with still no answer. And even though he wasn't exactly close friends with the neighboring Windsors, they had talked enough for some of them to let slip the sort of eccentricities that made Dwight, Dwight. And they hadn't left out the times they'd walked in on him during one of his "rituals."
Worry was soon fading into panic as he slammed him body into the door roughly.
"Dwight! Open the fucking door!"
Quickly realizing this wasn't going work, he looked around frantically, searching for anyone who would be able to help. Where was that damn roommate of his when you needed him?
His head snapped back to the door the second he heard the door knob turn, relief rushing through his veins when Dwight appeared, hair ruffled but otherwise completely unharmed. Or so he thought.
He sighed, "What were you doing in there?"
He peered around Dwight's head, feeling the worry return when all he could see in the room was the glow of candles and strange, symbols he didn't understand at all. When he noticed the glistening red dripping onto the floor from where Dwight stood, clasping onto one of his hands, he rushed into the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Gimme your hand," he snapped and Dwight did so without protest, handing his injured hand over slowly.
Derek grabbed on, examining the gash along his boyfriend's palm.
"What did I tell you about doing this to yourself?" he asked in a softer tone, but still with a hint of anger in his voice.
Guilt made Dwight keep his mouth closed. His eyes widened when Derek brought the hand up to his lips and, seeming not to mind the blood, kissed the wound gently.
"Where are your bandages?" he asked a still stunned Dwight, standing up and striding to the bathroom as though nothing strange had just happened.