Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
Red - Part 1
It was going to be red- no matter what He said. Red- red so dark the when it dried it would be almost black- black as the night, black like His raven hair, the hair he cherished so much. It would look so much better red- no, He said it wouldn't, He didn't want it to be red- but it was going to be red, no matter if He didn't like the color. It was red NOW- a beautiful shining red as she worked with her paintbrush- glistening on the white walls- walls oh so white, white no longer, stained red- such a very beautiful red. Gold eyes had flared with anger when He'd seen what she'd done to His room, His white room, seen her prove Him wrong because it did look better, so much better, better red, like she'd promised- just like she'd promised and she'd been honest- she had promised it would look better red and it did. It was red- a drying red, darkening like His eyes when he was angry- which He had been when He had seen what she had done- what she had done to His white room- when He had seen it splashed with red- that beautiful red. And the red in the rainbows had reflected off the splotchy walls- splintered and danced as more red flooded across the carpet- the white carpet, flooded from her hands, bled into the rainbows scattering across the red and white room, something reminiscent of a candy cane gone awry. She'd told Him where she had got the paint, she shouldn't have done that- it had made Him angry, angry very angry and the red of anger had flared in His eyes- red like the room, red like anger. Glass had created more red in His room, but this time, it was His fault- the table splintered and shattered as He shoved her backwards over it, leaving her to watch the happy red rainbows, the red in the carpet all His fault, as His precious table in His precious white room broke, caused more red, broke because she'd told Him where she'd got the paint and He had gotten angry, because she told him, where, how she'd made the white room red- so very red. It was darkening now, darker and darker still, darker than any red should ever be. Did He like it- no He hated it, she had to change it back, but it was too late- it was red and it looked so very good- He didn't want to admit it, that she was right, that the room should be, WAS red. Maybe if she told Him who had helped her paint the white room, He wouldn't be so angry- maybe if He knew His Kevin had given her the paint- made her paint the room He would say it was a lie- she had done it because she was jealous- no, not her, jealous, no- hurt and dazed and lonely and sad and angry- yes, that was her, not jealous, never jealous- Angry because he had tricked Him, he had taken Him away from her and tricked Him, confused Him- Sad because He had hurt her, hurt her because He was confused by him. Him and he never mixed up in her tortured mind for he had another name, but Him was Him, was always Him, would never be anything but that. Once, He'd had a different name, one that she barely remembered because she didn't say it, couldn't say it, wouldn't, shouldn't say it, never say it- It wasn't hers to say like it had once been- should have still been. But He was his now, he had taken Him away from her and his name had gone with Him- so it was red, red as blood, redder, crimson, scarlet- beautiful, beautiful red- and he had helped, helped paint His white room red. Because he had taken Him away, he had been the one to wake up to Him in the morning, when it should have been her beside Him, tangled between His sheets, in His arms-
"Mariah?"
She looked up into His face, watching the concern he watched her with. He had the white cloth of his shirt wrapped around her bloodied hand- the cloth was red now- like the room.
"Ray."
Barely a whisper, because the name was not hers to say. He pressed His lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss, then pulled away. "Why?" He whispered, brushing back her bangs fondly.
A hundred million reasons came to mind- she was jealous, hurt, angry, spiteful, because Kevin deserved it, because she loved Him, because Kevin had stolen Him away, because Kevin had been standing there, because she wanted him to hurt- She spotted the knife on the floor, coated red with blood- the same red smeared on the walls- Kevin's blood- And a thousand more reasons held her answer for a few seconds more.
"Mariah?"
She turned her gaze back to His face, a slight smile crossing her lips- tears forming in her eyes. "Because it looks better red."
End Part 1
Red - Part 1
It was going to be red- no matter what He said. Red- red so dark the when it dried it would be almost black- black as the night, black like His raven hair, the hair he cherished so much. It would look so much better red- no, He said it wouldn't, He didn't want it to be red- but it was going to be red, no matter if He didn't like the color. It was red NOW- a beautiful shining red as she worked with her paintbrush- glistening on the white walls- walls oh so white, white no longer, stained red- such a very beautiful red. Gold eyes had flared with anger when He'd seen what she'd done to His room, His white room, seen her prove Him wrong because it did look better, so much better, better red, like she'd promised- just like she'd promised and she'd been honest- she had promised it would look better red and it did. It was red- a drying red, darkening like His eyes when he was angry- which He had been when He had seen what she had done- what she had done to His white room- when He had seen it splashed with red- that beautiful red. And the red in the rainbows had reflected off the splotchy walls- splintered and danced as more red flooded across the carpet- the white carpet, flooded from her hands, bled into the rainbows scattering across the red and white room, something reminiscent of a candy cane gone awry. She'd told Him where she had got the paint, she shouldn't have done that- it had made Him angry, angry very angry and the red of anger had flared in His eyes- red like the room, red like anger. Glass had created more red in His room, but this time, it was His fault- the table splintered and shattered as He shoved her backwards over it, leaving her to watch the happy red rainbows, the red in the carpet all His fault, as His precious table in His precious white room broke, caused more red, broke because she'd told Him where she'd got the paint and He had gotten angry, because she told him, where, how she'd made the white room red- so very red. It was darkening now, darker and darker still, darker than any red should ever be. Did He like it- no He hated it, she had to change it back, but it was too late- it was red and it looked so very good- He didn't want to admit it, that she was right, that the room should be, WAS red. Maybe if she told Him who had helped her paint the white room, He wouldn't be so angry- maybe if He knew His Kevin had given her the paint- made her paint the room He would say it was a lie- she had done it because she was jealous- no, not her, jealous, no- hurt and dazed and lonely and sad and angry- yes, that was her, not jealous, never jealous- Angry because he had tricked Him, he had taken Him away from her and tricked Him, confused Him- Sad because He had hurt her, hurt her because He was confused by him. Him and he never mixed up in her tortured mind for he had another name, but Him was Him, was always Him, would never be anything but that. Once, He'd had a different name, one that she barely remembered because she didn't say it, couldn't say it, wouldn't, shouldn't say it, never say it- It wasn't hers to say like it had once been- should have still been. But He was his now, he had taken Him away from her and his name had gone with Him- so it was red, red as blood, redder, crimson, scarlet- beautiful, beautiful red- and he had helped, helped paint His white room red. Because he had taken Him away, he had been the one to wake up to Him in the morning, when it should have been her beside Him, tangled between His sheets, in His arms-
"Mariah?"
She looked up into His face, watching the concern he watched her with. He had the white cloth of his shirt wrapped around her bloodied hand- the cloth was red now- like the room.
"Ray."
Barely a whisper, because the name was not hers to say. He pressed His lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss, then pulled away. "Why?" He whispered, brushing back her bangs fondly.
A hundred million reasons came to mind- she was jealous, hurt, angry, spiteful, because Kevin deserved it, because she loved Him, because Kevin had stolen Him away, because Kevin had been standing there, because she wanted him to hurt- She spotted the knife on the floor, coated red with blood- the same red smeared on the walls- Kevin's blood- And a thousand more reasons held her answer for a few seconds more.
"Mariah?"
She turned her gaze back to His face, a slight smile crossing her lips- tears forming in her eyes. "Because it looks better red."
End Part 1