He's black and white, juxtaposed, full of contradictions. And he's cold. Or so they always tell him, in hushed whispers and silent glares.

He's black and white, and he's green, the black hair falling into malachite green eyes that hide so much. He's green, a thin sheet of ice hiding the darkest depths of madness. One single misstep could cause the ice to shatter and send him plunging, falling. Breaking.

He'll never be good enough. They never say it out loud, but he knows; it screams in his face in their every movement, in looks of disdain, in backs turning away from him. He'll never live up to their expectations. He's just the family disappointment, just another failure.

He's come so far, and he's got so far to fall. And they expect him to. So he does. He lets go and he plummets down, the black and the white and the green intermixing until all he can see is red.

A/N: Just a quick drabble about one of my characters

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