I'd like to begin this by saying that I am in counseling.

I've been wanting to write a murder!fic, and this just kind of started itself in my head. One minute I was pissing and the next Rob was- doing this. I had to write it down so it'd shut the fuck up.

Thanks to Esha (I don't remember what she goes by on here) for uh, being there for me when I was like WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, and reading it and talking me down afterwards. You have no idea how much you helped, bro. <3

It's really not my fault what they do in my head. I cannot take the blame, and I am not apologizing.

Title is from "The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde. That verse goes like this:

He did not wear his scarlet coat,

For blood and wine are red,

And blood and wine were on his hands

When they found him with the dead,

The poor dead woman whom he loved,

And murdered in her bed.

Purely amazing poem. Title sucks because I couldn't fucking think of ANYTHING. I'll stop ranting now. (Sorry, kind of lonely here, and tired, and ranty.)

He Did Not Wear His Scarlet Coat

That was enough. It was too much. He had to do something about it. He could not just fucking sit there, high off his ass, while the little fucker was with his fucking wife. Leaving him alone. Alone, when he had promised the drummer that he would not be fucking alone.

Fuck that shit.

Rob took another hit and grabbed his keys, knowing exactly what he was about to do--and was not shocked or frightened by it at all.

--

Rob burst through the Shinoda bedroom door, gun in his hand, and pointed at the bed. Anna gasped and Mike dismounted her, grabbing the sheets around his middle. "Rob, what the f--" He stopped when the gun was pointed at him.

Anna started crying as Rob aimed the gun back at her. "I love you, Mike," he said shakily, tears streaming down his own face.

Mike nodded and put his hands in the air, softly pressing them up as if to settle Rob down. "I love you, too, Rob--"

"I know you do." He looked at the Asian and bit his lip. His face was red and he was positively vibrating with anger, or fear, or some other emotion Mike couldn't put his finger on but at the same time really did not want to question.

"That's right. I love you. Can you put the gun down, Rob?"

Rob laughed. "When did you get so good at talking people down, huh?" He pointed the gun back at Mike and it was Mike's turn to sob out.

Mike fucking knew what he did. He fucking knew, and here he was surprised, shaking in his bed. The fucker.

"Let's just talk this out. Please, Rob--"

"Shut up, Mike," Rob said warningly, his eyes shooting daggers. He turned the gun sideways and took a step closer to the bed.

"--just put the gun down, we can talk this through, it's okay Rob--"

"Shut the fuck up Mike!" Rob shot at the bed, hitting the mattress, and all three of them jumped. Anna screamed and curled into a ball on the bed, holding herself as small as possible. Mike, beside himself, wrapped his arms around her and glared at Rob.

Rob seemed scared of himself, of what he just did, but that didn't keep him from shooting at the lamp by the bed, making Anna scream again. Something lurched in his chest; it felt good.

"Tired of this shit, Mike. We're meant to be together. You know it. You fucking know it, Mike, why don't you accept it?" Rob stepped closer, still pointing the gun at Mike's horrified face.

"That was one time, Rob--"

Fuck that. One time is forever. Mike said it was forever. It's going to be fucking forever, god damnit.

Anna choked on a sob and Mike held her tighter but continued staring at the drummer.

"You love me," Rob said quietly, slowly pointing the gun at Anna.

"Rob-"

"Say goodbye to your wife, Mike!"

"No!"

"Don't underestimate me!" And to make his point, Rob shot right above Anna's head, right into the headboard, as Anna screamed somewhat silently and shook with sobs. Little bitch deserved it.

Cunt.

Mike, in shock, turned to Anna and stroked her hair, crying. "I love you, Anna, I love you, I'm so sorry-" He pressed his lips to hers, trying to console her as he knew somehow what was about to happen. As if he could make it better when his lover was about to kill his wife.

Rob sobbed once, quickly, quietly, to get it out of his system, and aimed at Anna's chest, squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head. The fire rang out and he kept his eyes closed, hearing faintly Mike's sobs and cries and mutterings.

He waited a few minutes before opening his eyes, seeing Anna limp in Mike's arms, the Asian an absolute mess.

"Come suck my dick," Rob muttered, moving closer to the bed, unzipping his jeans.

Mike sobbed, his eyes and cheeks red, and shook his head.

"I'm not giving you a choice god damnit! Get the fuck over here," he said hurriedly as he pulled his dick out of his boxers so it sprang free.

Mike sniffled and crawled uncoordinated over to Rob, who pressed the gun to Mike's head as he kneeled into position.

"Yeah," Rob breathed, his hand tight on the back of Mike's head, the other pressing the gun into the hilt of Mike's throat. He moaned and bucked his hips, holding Mike closer so he was no doubt gagging the Asian.

Rob fucked Mike's mouth hard, without abandon, alternating between staring at Mike's eyes squeezed shut and the blood from Anna all over the bed. He moaned as he heard Mike sob and choke, and came without warning down Mike's eager throat.

Mike fell back and threw up, most of it Rob's cum, mixed in with spit and tears. Rob nodded at him and put his dick back in his pants. One more thing to do. One thing, and he could go, just fine. Whatever.

"I love you, Mike. Do you think you can get hard for me?" Rob said in a new tone, a caring, still angry tone, and Mike whimpered. He was only half-hard, from having Rob's dick in his mouth probably, but quickly went the rest of the way as Rob fisted his cock.

"Let me take care of you, Mike," Rob whispered in his ear, and pulled the Asian off hard, making note of Mike's sobs and moans and screams. The skin was chafing but Mike didn't seem to care, only curled into a smaller ball yet somehow thrusted shamelessly into Rob's hand. Rob pressed the gun into Mike's chest, right above his heart, and moved it over his nipple until the bud got hard.

"That's right," Rob said quietly as he came, screaming and crying louder than before. He wiped his hand on the bed as Mike fell back, holding himself in the fetal position, tears running down his cheeks even though he wasn't sobbing anymore. Too exhausted to, Rob told himself.

The drummer took a step back, making sure Mike watched him. "I love you so much, Mike Shinoda," he said so quietly the Asian almost didn't hear, and put the gun in his mouth.

It tasted like metal, like fulfilled dreams and unfulfilled nightmares. Like victory and failure. Like a future of nothing to clear the past. He swallowed around the barrel.

"Rob no--" Mike stared wide-eyed and Rob responded by closing his own eyes.

A shot rang out and there was a bang as the drummer collapsed on the floor, lifeless. Mike shook for a few minutes, looking around him, before reaching for the phone to dial 9-11.