Shadow Dancing | K.TH

Don't Let Go

I skip out of the room trying to look happy— mainly because Jungkook had asked me to. He didn't want anyone to know what he'd told me, and I didn't have any problem respecting his wishes.

Flashing a giddy smile at V and the others as I continue to hop, I can't help but internally cringe at how weird I'd look to them at the moment.

"What's wrong with her?" I hear Jin whisper to Namjoon, who just shrugs.

"Maybe she's finally gone crazy." Yoongi comments indifferently, instinctively drawing the dark side out of me. I barely keep it down as I force another smile, retreating to my room to take a shower.

I'd been feeling stiff lately— not to mention mentally and physically drained. A hot shower would undoubtedly be the solution to that problem.

Making sure that the door is securely closed behind me, I bounce into the bathroom and crank the dial all the way up to the red marking. If I was going to take a hot shower, then I would make sure to go all the way.

When I lightly test the water with the tip of my feet, I immediately draw it away at the intense temperature. Maybe it was a good idea to turn it down a little— I wanted a hot shower, not one that would cook me like a chicken.

Once I'm sure that I won't appear burned from head to toe, I step into the pressurized spray of water.

It's the best thing that I've ever had in a long time.

The water runs over my stiff shoulders and neck, raising steam as it soothes and cleans. An instinctive sigh escapes my lips as I run my fingers through my hair, relishing the silky texture of the soaked, smooth strands.

I'm tempted to just stay like that for eternity— with my eyes closed and water running down like velvet over my skin. In fact, it's so relaxing that I just want to curl up on the ground with the water as my blanket.

I look at my fingertips to see if they were already pruned from the boiling temperature, raising them up to my eye level to examine them.

Were my fingertips usually so blunt?

The ends didn't seem to be as rounded as before— had I squished them somewhere or something? But that couldn't be. I didn't remember doing anything like that.

Then my heart skips a long beat as I realize the true cause of my blunted fingertips.

An uncontrollable scream escapes my parted lips as I frantically run my hand over the flattened ends. It couldn't be. This fast— how could this already be this fast?

I was permanently fading. And the lasting effects had already shown.

"Tzuyu?" A voice echoes from the outside of the bathroom door, muffled by the sound of running water. "What's wrong? Did you scream?"

V?

Panic overtakes me as I firmly deny the apparent dents on my fingers. It couldn't be, it couldn't be, it couldn't be. It was just lasting a bit long then usual— it would come back to its original state in a few minutes.

Right?

Right?

"I'm coming in." V's calm declaration forces me out of my panicked trance, causing me to nearly dash out of the stall and grab the nearest, most oversized shirt I could find.

I thank the Lord as he comes in, milliseconds after I successfully pull the shirt over my head. The garment comes down all the way to my knees, only revealing my pale forearms and my lower legs.

My eyes keep darting onto my fingertips, desperate to see them rounded and normal again.

They stay blunted.

"Why did you scream?" V looks over at my soaked figure, and I've never been so glad the shirt is black. The water is still left on running behind me, and I rush to shut it off.

"It's nothing important. I just nearly slipped, that's all."

My breath freezes in my throat as pain flashes in his face, a clear sign that he definitely knew I was lying to him.

"I thought you were done lying to me."

When he starts to close the door, I rush after him, grabbing his shirt sleeve. My breathing comes fast and rapid as I shake my head.

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry. Don't leave. Don't. Please?"

Only when he nods carefully do I let him go, reminded of Jungkook's words. I'd never lie to him again— it was not worth hurting him like that. He'd always know, anyways. Always.

"I'm sorry," I repeat hurriedly, desperate to explain that I hadn't intended to hurt him. "I freaked out."

When V sees me shiver, he waves at the open bathroom door. "Go dress into warmer clothes— I promise I'll stay. I won't leave."

"Okay. Promised."

Even though he'd promised me he'd wait, I change as quickly as possible, not even bothering to dry my drenched hair. I didn't doubt that he'd leave, but I was too eager to tell him. I needed to tell someone— or else I felt like I'd just crumble.

When I'm wrapped in a blanket and is cozy on the bed, only then does he look at me expectantly. Licking my lips nervously, I run my hand over my fingertips one last time.

Still blunted.

"I'm starting to fade." When I say anxiously, he looks at me with confusion. He already knew that I faded. And then I add the one word that changes everything.

"Permanently."

"What?" The confusion on his face instantly morphs into terror as his skin turns ashen with shock. "What do you mean? Where?"

I silence a sob as I reveal my trembling fingers. Somehow the ends seemed even more blunted than last time. Or was I just being overly paranoid?

"Damn." He hisses as he brings my hand closer to examine the aftereffects.
His skin is cool and comforting against my wrist as I revel at the simple touch.

Not the time.

My body flickers against my will, causing V's hand to slip right through my nonexistent wrist. His lips purse as a frustrated sigh escapes his closely guarded emotions.

"I'm going to die." I whisper, my voice dipping with hopelessness with every second. "I might die in a couple of weeks. Maybe days. Maybe sooner—"

"Shh." His fingers brush against my lips, and I instantly close them together. "You're not going to die."

"But this."

"I'll figure something out. While I do that, you have to promise not to think about things like that. Like I said, it only makes it worse if you do."

"Okay." I say, uncertain. But I would trust him. I had to. To stay alive— to not lose hope. "Alright."

"Good girl," He smiles faintly, and I nearly forget how to breathe. Now I know why he smiles so rarely— he'd give the recipient a heart attack if he did.

The loose grin hangs crookedly against the corner of his lip, stretching his large eyes into beautifully created crescents. His dark lashes deepen the color of his irises, making them look alight with the flame of sheer beauty.

"Just hang on." He grazes the tip of my nose in a kiss and I do forget how to breathe. It doesn't help when he shifts down to press his lips against my cheek, jawline, and then my own lips.

It feels absolutely amazing.

"Don't let go."

"Never."