Erwin had given him a rose once. There was nothing romantic, he may as well been handing over the monthly budget report. No words, no touch of hands, only a soft glance, its meaning clear only to the two of them, and a brilliant shock of crimson red all too sudden atop his desk.
Levi had no doubt another shade, though more of a pink, had painted itself across the tips of his cheeks.
Times were much simpler before the wall fell.
The only red between them now is the river of blood beneath their feet.
Like a putrid adhesive it sticks to their feet and despite their struggles they fall victim to the current twisting and churning in opposite directions.
The colour of their guilt, anger and shame stains their clothes and skin. It is all that they have lost and all that they have failed to gain, lost amidst endless blue waves they may never reach.