Red. That's what you thought of when you thought of him. Red for your love for him. Red for the colour you want the lights to be when you're alone. Red for the roses you want to give him. Red for the blood that will leave his body when you stab him with those roses.

Red for the feeling you get when he even looks in the direction of anyone else.

Somewhere, deep in the healthy part of your brain, you knew this was wrong. It started as 'just a hallway crush', until you deliberately went out of your way to watch him do anything. Anything at all. You did anything to be near him, talk to him, and now it turned into an obsession. You hated the agonizing feeling of emptyness when he wasn't around, and you hated how much you loved him.

And now you actually got a chance to talk to him. You'd become moderately close friends, and usually ate lunch together. Just like today. "Are you paying attention to what I'm saying at all? Jeez, you really need to get some more sleep." He chuckled, so innocently unaware of the things floating through your mind. The murder. The assault. The kidnapping. All of it in some way related to him. But you had to snap out of it.