My question takes him aback, and it shows in his face.
I'm not surprised— his reaction was what I had predicted and risked. Even though we'd slept on the same bed before, and stayed in the same room, we'd never done it on purpose. It was either only for a few minutes or Jin hyung has forced V to stay.
It had never been on purpose, directly asked by one of us.
And I'd just done that.
When he looks dumbstruck for more than a second or two, the unreal courage that had caused me to pipe up slowly fades away into nothing but anxiety and worry.
"Or not. I'm sorry— that was abrupt. You don't have to—"
"No, it's fine."
He doesn't give me a chance to reply back as he motions toward the direction of his room. Trying to swallow the excitement in my throat, my bare feet brush the plush carpet, swathed with the silver of moonlight.
Before I know it, I'm breathing in his scent, touching ground that belongs to him.
It feels different at night— another degree of magical that his presence emanates. My fingertips tingle pleasantly as I realize that the air is refreshing, somehow managing to keep the fine line between cool and cold.
The first thing that I notice when I walk in is the window, wide with its curtains drawn back. It fills the entire wall, replacing the plaster with glass and moonlight.
It looks beautiful— and makes the rest of the place look amazing as well. All of a sudden, I feel a bit of contempt for the small window beside my bed— which barely let in any light and air at all.
When I glance out into the darkness, I realize that it overlooks the front of the house— which was why he'd seen me. Nervousness suddenly clouds my head as I relive the embarrassing breakdown I'd had outside. It wasn't something that I was proud of— getting the life scared out of me by a mere raccoon and the dramatic reactions I'd had after.
"Here."
I turn to see him settle against the chair in the corner of the room, somehow still managing to look perfect at two a.m in the morning. When I see him lean backwards, I ask fervently. I didn't want to stay with him just to overtake his bed.
"I'm not planning to go back to sleep, Tzuyu. It's fine."'
Now that the adrenaline had faded away and my body temperature had regulated, the exhaustion that had been masked before came pouring back in. The corners of my eyes start slacking downwards because of it, and V notices.
"I'm completely serious."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Not being able to stand against the sudden rush of tiredness, I flop in a very unladylike manner onto his bed. I smell a hint of his fragrant scent when I bury the side of my face into the blankets, reveling at how wonderfully soft and cool the sheets were.
Sleep instantly crowds in my peripheral vision, shading the edges with darkness.
Voice sounding half-drunk, I murmur quietly into the air.
"You're not what people think you are."
His reply is tinged with faint amusement as I listen carefully. My body, all of a sudden, feels heavier than stone when I try to shift.
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't know— I can't explain it." My brows involuntarily furrow together in focus as I try to ignore the wisps of sleep crawl up my spine and cloud my head.
"I guess— you're just— an orange."
"What?"
He laughs out the single word, tone incredulous as he exclaims again. "I'm an orange? Where did that come from?"
"You have a cover— a very thick one, you know. On the outside. It hides the soft and squishy person you really are. And people judge just from what they see— an impenetrable orange, when it's really just concealing the sweetness inside."
My eyes are only slightly open, my voice sounding monotone from sleep. I suddenly feel truthful— descriptive. Very descriptive. And brave, to call V an orange.
Not many survived if they told him that.
"You're too cute."
In the corner of my hazy vision, I see a silhouette rise from the couch and approach to cover my eyes. In the glimmering darkness, I can make out the shadowed contours of his deep set eyes, his flawless nose, and his cherry lips with the unique curve.
"What— did you say?"
"Nothing, Tzuyu."
If it's nothing, then why was he smiling so widely? He looks so happy that I worry that his lips might split anytime soon— it could've been the happiest I'd ever see him get.
"You look good when you smile." I comment truthfully. By now, I was at a state of saying anything that came to my mind. My lips were moving on its own— forming words that I'd die before saying if I wasn't so out of my mind.
"I'd love it if you smiled more often."
"Little princess— so adorable." I protest in a voice that borders a babyish whine as he pinches my cheeks lightly, stretching them to make me seem like a real baby.
"Hey— stop it."
My words are so slurred that it's a wonder he understands what I'm saying.
"If you wish. Go to sleep, Tzuyu. You look tired."
"I'm not tired." I protest, the words sounding like they fit better coming out from the mouth of a baby instead of a eighteen year old girl.
Then the shadow tilts, and something soft grazes my forehead.
"Yes, you are."
Curious about the wondrous sensation, my fingers gradually find his sleeve. Once my tips brush the soft material of his shirt, I grip it with the best strength I could summon while on the line between asleep and awake.
"Can you do that again?"
An incredulous laugh echoes from mere inches away, and I can practically see him shaking his head between my half-closed eyelids. The heaviness in the back of my mind grows even further, immersing my body with a trance of sleep.
It's only the grip on him that keeps me awake.
"You're amazing."
His words are so faint that I wonder if what I had heard was what he had really spoken. My fingers tighten around his sleeve as he shifts, afraid that he'd leave.
The logic side of my brain was asleep— it was only pure instinct that drove my actions. What I'd always wanted to do— and there wasn't any worry of consequence to stop me.
"Thank you."
He laughs again, a soft wind in the silver air, and I feel his fingers bury into my hair, pulling the locks back to reveal my forehead.
Instead of on the forehead that I expected, V suddenly changes courses to my lips. A drunken smile pulls at the corners of my mouth as he lingers before pulling away shortly.
"Thank you." I repeat, the expression meaning gratitude and so much more. It would be impossible to explain how thankful I was to this man in front of me, even if I had a million years and an infinity amount of words to choose from.
And sometimes, simplicity was the best way to get a message across.
Happiness flits from the top of my head to the tips of my toes when I feel his warm hands work with the blankets, adjusting them to cover every inch of my body. I feel like a child— receiving the care that I'd never received as one.
And then his hands leave me, and my eyelids slide close— finally letting sleep pull me under.
The last thing I hear is the soft noise of him settling back into his chair before everything descends into darkness.