A World of our Own | K.TH *COMPLETED*

Ever

I've stopped looking at the clock after six hours.

During those miserable six, I'd asked questions and produced more inquiry than anyone possibly could— people like Galileo and Einstein wouldn't have even come close. But my mind always seemed to revolve around one thing—

Why would he act like that?

I didn't understand. One moment, he'd been so sweet and laughable, and the next been transformed into a cold, still statue. I knew he could get bipolar sometimes, but this was like polar opposites.

He probably knew I was sitting there the entire time, and the V I know would've made me get up and eat something. Or he would've at least given me a blanket— I don't know.

V wasn't a person who could be labeled, who could be predicted. He was like a hurricane that nobody knew which way he would go, and how powerful he'd get.

Had I really thought that I'd tamed him?

But why had he done all those things? He'd given himself to protect me— his everything to try to make me happy. All those intense gazes and those sweet words— had he not meant them?

But that was impossible.

He was someone who didn't speak of love lightly, because for all his life he'd been so absent of the element. When he spoke, then it was either the complete, absolute truth, or it was fake words meant to protect others— protect me.

But why would he want to protect me now? There was nothing to be protected from.

Sitting up on the bed, I think back to the last time he'd spoken so harshly with me. He'd slammed the door shut in front of my face, just as he had shut his eyes as tight as they would go.

But later... it had turned out that he never meant those words at all. He'd been scared of the fact that he would hurt me somehow— that he didn't want me getting physically and mentally exhausted by being involved with him.

Although he was undeniably the best thing that had ever happened to me, he still seemed to deny that plain, hard truth. He didn't see the bigger picture— I'd be in a hundred times worse trouble if he left me instead of the other way around.

But why? I thought we'd gotten past that, understood how each of us felt like. I thought that we'd already figured that part out— and that we'd both vowed that how we felt would never, ever change.

So there had to be something else.

Then a thought strikes me so hard that I nearly topple over with the overwhelming realization. His muteness. Was that it? Was that why he was beating himself up and over so much?

Simply because he was mute?

Absolutely unthinkable— the definition of ridiculousness. How could he have ever even suspected that he was protecting me this way— that was, again, just ridiculous.

Eyes bright with excitement, I climb out of the sofa that I've been rolling around for hours of plain torture. When I place my bare feet against the freezing cold tiles, I ignore the jolts of ice that shoots up my entire body.

There was no time to waste, not even for retrieving the pair of shoes I'd kicked off in my frustration  during the long hours of thinking and mentally dying.

Ignoring the hunger gnawing in my stomach, I rush out the door and out into the chilly hallway. The long, spacious corridor seems as deserted as ever, with its dimmed lights and the aura of emptiness. I wondered if it was dimmed because of the time— it was currently a little bit over midnight.

Hoping that V is awake— of course, I wouldn't mind waking him up— I softly creak the door open and peek inside, bubbling with anticipation.

The moment I come in, I stop to admire the wondrous view spread out in front of me. It seemed closer to fiction than reality, closer to a dream than the truth.

His silhouette is mirrored in the moonlight, which is streaming through the large front window. As his hair reflects the silver, it shines and sparkles as bright as a star— its color absolutely breathtaking.

He doesn't show any signs that he's noticed me, and a bitter feeling threatens to overwhelm the rush of excited adrenaline. But then I push the feeling down— I knew what was up with him now. I know— and I hope it's not wrong.

Unconsciously biting my bottom lip, I slowly and silently creep over to his figure. He still doesn't give a single reaction— a single movement— and somehow that only makes my determination stronger.

"V."

When I call his name, a gentle breath through my teeth, he finally turns his back on the moon and stares at me. I'd never realized how vulnerable he could look, due to his stoic and firm barriers and his want to keep himself strong for my sake.

But now vulnerability seems like the only word to describe this beautiful boy in front of me.

His eyes are slanted more downwards, giving him a softer look. There's a slight blush on his face that I automatically dismiss as the remnants of the sky high fever. With the moonlight curving off the firm contours of his face, he looks so sorrowful that I immediately throw my arms around his neck.

I needed to comfort him. Comforting first, explanations later. The reasoning and the pleading could wait— it'd waited for so long already, a few more minutes wouldn't do any harm, would it?

Half of my brain expect him to push me away— put up at least some kind of resistance. But he sinks into my arms like he has nothing left to lose.

As I bury my nose into his soft hair, I revel at the sheer fragrance he possesses. It was just intoxicating— there wasn't any other way to describe his sweet, fresh scent.

Without thinking, my heart speaks first, breaking the thick silence that seems to weigh down upon the two of us.

"I'll be your voice if you want me to be, you know."