Puppetry - P.JM. [ON-HOLD]

Twelve

I felt something sink down near me, the surface bending at the will. The thing was silent, the form of what I felt was of a person. My mind was too groggy to think of any possibilities.

"Taehyung, go away," I groaned quietly, talking into my pillow as I did so. The sweet smell of pine drifted to my nose, making me relax. There was always a fine line between the sweet utopia of the mansion and the depression of my apartment. Sometimes it made me rethink about my choices of staying in the puppetry business.

"Y/N, I need to talk to you."

The voice was definitely higher than Taehyung's, a little softer as well. It didn't sound feminine, though. It was just on the borderline. It was something that I didn't hear often enough with everyone yelling and getting angry at me.

I slowly drifted my eyelids apart, looking between them. The world was a bit fuzzy at first, but then drifting into better sight. The light blinded me for a second, then the place becoming full once more.

At the edge of the bed that was a respective amount of seams away sat the puppet that had came in only days before. It stared at me, its brown eyes looking at me, seeming gentle. No smile was on its face, though, yet it still held a faint feeling of comfort.

I looked over it more. Its black hair shined in the early morning light, the sun coming up as a blood-orange this morning. Its right side was facing me, the object of the hummingbirds on its clavicle defined in the glorious light. I felt myself become a bit shocked, never really seeing a pretty sight like this in a long time. Too long, actually.

I guess I must have been staring for quite awhile because the puppet gently smiled in amusement. "I just have a few questions. Then I'll leave you alone."

I shook myself out of the daze. I gave a groan, slowly getting up from the mattress. I felt my head slightly push against itself, but I ignored it. I reached a hand up, pushing it through my tangled-mess of hair. It was still slightly damp from the rain of yesterday. "What do you need?"

I saw the puppet bite down onto its lip for a second, seeming to give a slight hesitation. "I'm sorry about not calling you formally. I should've done that."

I waved him off with a hand, my eyes begging to close. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to get as much tangles out as I could. "I honestly don't care. If you were a strict ruled puppet, then I would tell you not to, but I know you're fine and know your place."

The puppet sucked in a small breath, giving a quick nod of his head. "Okay, thank you."

"Continue," I pressed gently. My scalp was starting to hurt, the push against my cranium making myself ache.

The puppet nodded. "I'm going to be completely honest."

My hand paused in my hair for a moment, my stomach dropping. I gave a small swallow. "Okay . . . "

"I need you to help me figure out why I'm here," it said, its eyes looking me dead in the face, no hint of emotion in sight.

I felt myself freeze up, my throat giving up on oxygen for a moment. My hand that raked through my hair fell back into my lap, it making a small thud against the mattress. The heat of outside seemed to burn my skin, the sunlight setting myself on fire. The birds outside pierced my ears, making them feel as if the eardrums were about to burst.

I cleared my throat absentmindedly. "Come again?"

"Look at me," the puppet said, looking up and down its arms and torso. "The permanent markings along my skin--this clearly screams affluent. And this," it pulled its hand up to its nose, placing it on the small piercing, "this is also something that is known as an affluent. I don't why I have these."