V

V, chapter 1

One day...wasn't.

... was nothing, a thought fluttering around in someone's mind , a mere feeling inside someone's chest.

How long had he been? Or, in other words, How long hadn't he been?.

He was now, a person made out of flesh and blood, he stretched his pale hands out before him, watching the bone shimmer through the thin layer of white skin stretched out over those perfectly connected joints, beautiful, he thought, simply beautiful.

At that moment, he knew he had always been, he would always be there.

The thought seemed so obvious, it seemed like he had always known,as if he should've never asked himself such a question, there was no reason to.

His name was V, he knew.

He didn't recall ever receiving that name from anyone, he didn't recall anything at all, all he knew is that once he wasn't, and now he was.

And that was all he ever knew.

A deafening sneer pierced the cold silence of the room like a knife , V's eyes shot open as he rolled over in the bed, the old wooden frame creaking under the weight of his body as he slowly shifted, his hand searching in the dark until he felt the familiar round button of the alarm clock against his skin.

A sigh escaped his lips as the wailing of the device came to a sudden end, the plastic display of the device shining a brightly lit 6:35 into V's tired eyes, causing him to resume his silent protest against reality by exclaiming multiple long sighs and making sure to spend at least the full 25 remaining minutes getting himself ready to face the day.

Finally, after making sure that he had absolutely nothing left to procrastinate on, he made his way down the creaking spiral staircase of the apartment, sitting down at the table positioned in the middle of the room and muttering a greeting to his ever so sleepy roommate, Scott Denver.

Scott was V's roommate simply because, for what V knew, it had always been that way.

He was a fairly normal guy, blond hair, blue eyes,has the tendency to drown his problems by consuming quite the impressive amounts of caffeine and watched the news every night as if it was some sacred ritual ((yet talked through it so often that V began to wonder if he was really listening to what is being said, or just watched for the sake of an argument)).

V liked Scott, Scott could handle his many ramblings about this and that, about "what if?-" and "Imagine-", the way his sentences turned into poetry and the way his words went back into times of the ancient and the great.

Sometimes V would look at his friend and wonder if he was made for Scott, or if Scott was made for him, a question to which he never quite found the answer, and so decided to go with "we simply are".

"V, you're doing it again", his eyes shot up towards the other, he offered the other an apologetic smile, to which Scott grumbled something unintelligible and turned his attention back to his breakfast. V knew Scott wasn't angry, Scott was never angry with him, even if he tried, he couldn't imagine an angry version of Scott. More like Annoyed, tired, "stop zoning off all the time, V", "You have to eat , V", "It's okay, V", "Sometimes it just is what it is, V".

Those weren't sentences Scott said aloud, it were distinct looks on the mans face which he reserved to be used just for V and V alone, he liked to think that it was their little secret, the language only the two of them spoke.

Right now Scott's face said "breakfast, V",So V got up from where he'd been sitting, at the table in the very middle of the room, on his very own spot, to force himself to consume something decently edible. After a quick breakfast consisting of two thin slices of some rather moldy bread and a glass of milk, he managed to slip out into the hallway, grabbing his coat and briefcase and stumbling out the front door, stuffing his house keys deep into his coat's pocket.