Red
She is red.
She is Scarlett, after all, how can she not be red? She is blood, the fire of life, coursing through his veins, invigorating him.
She is red, and she is dangerous.
She can't love him, she can't. Why would someone so vibrant love someone like him? He knows he sounds dreary, must bore her to death with his books and poetry and quaint, old-fashioned morals. She has changed but she has not. She has always been red, underneath, it's just that she was painted with a calming blue, and now it's chipping away. If he wanted blue…well, he already has blue. He wants red, and she is red.
She is his reason for living on some days and his reason for cursing life on others. She is the ultimate paradox, but if he told her this she'd laugh and smile and forcefully suggest that he stick to words within her vocabulary.
Sometimes all he sees is red. Not just her, but everything. The whole world bleeds and seeps and there is war and there are soldiers and there are men screaming and men crying and men dying. He wakes up and he scream and he cries and, inside, he dies, and blue reaches out and cradles him and whispers in his ear that everything will be fine but he still can't escape and all he sees is red. It's always coming for him, catching him, tearing him away from all that is good. But…he's sure it's a different shade than her, it must be. She is everything that is good, good for him.
He doesn't know how to handle her.
She's not only the red of lively blood but also red hot as a smith's iron. She is wielded by a powerful worker, and can flare from warm to searing with seemingly no provocation. He knows that if he were to touch an ironsmith's craft he would get burned, but he doesn't make the connection with her.
When she comes that day, to his house, on his birthday, dressed in red…for a brief moment he thinks that his world has exploded and dispersed and all that is left is her, in that red dress, blending in to it, eyes alight with passion. It does not matter that he is a fool and she is a fool and they are both looked down upon by every old woman in the town and he has somehow betrayed Melanie without even meaning to, without even wanting to. In that moment she is red and he is almost red with her. Then he is reminded of all that he forgot and she looks like blood mixed with milk, turned to pink, embarrassed and scared and weak.