cigarette smoke.

red

Red is many things, to him.

It's fire, and heat, and burning pain. It is destruction and cataclysm; turbulence and chaos and fear.

But it is also passion, and determination, and love. It is kindness and heart; warmth that envelopes everything comfortably.

Red is many things, to him.

It is the color of happy faces and flustered cheeks.

It is the syrup on his hands and the copper on his tongue.

Red is many things, to him.

It is two sides of the coin of what allows you to live and what will kill you with no remorse or hesitation.

She was red, she was love and passion; but she was also fire. Burning, and he fell in; his lungs we're crushed, breathe charred to cinders.

His heart bleeds vermillion blue and his eyes cry sapphire red. Even now, they are together.

She's so cold now, he thinks, when did she stop killing him? When did he start burning her?