Darkness Ethereal | K.TH

My Everything

Two Weeks Later

"What?"

I shrug nonchalantly at the look of pure disbelief in his eyes, finding more satisfaction than I should've at his stunned voice.

"You heard me. I want to take him. Today— if it's possible. But it doesn't matter. I'd wait as long as it takes."

"Are you crazy?" He snaps, and my posture instantly hardens. "You want to take that psychopath? He's going to kill you in your sleep!"

I don't mean to sound so cold— I still needed his cooperation for this to work out the way it was supposed to. But when I reply back, it sounds like my voice is carved out of ice.

"He is not a psychopath."

"Yes, he is." The jailer says, teeth grinding together. Why was he lecturing me about this? Couldn't he just give me the information and go on his way?

"That kid's a murderer— and insane," The jailer adds, and my face begins to flush with rage. How dare he talk about him like that, when V was a thousand times better than his sorry self.

"I don't care." I tell him, voice tight. "If it's money, I'll pay. If it's paperwork, I'll sign. Just give him to me."

His eyes narrow, and I practically can see his cogs turning as he picks out my statement piece by piece. When realization dawns in his eyes, I can't help but sigh in the most obnoxious way possible.

"You're in love with him."

I sigh again. "Good work, genius. Do you want an award for that or what?"

My hate for the short, deceiving man only grows more massive when the light of greed flashes in his features. I've seen that look among many of the people my mother used to bring over for some lavish dinner— and plenty among my parents themselves.

I know what he's going to say before he even says it.

"A thousand bucks and I'll let you skip the three-day wait."

I was pretty certain he was making that up, but I shrug again. I'd rather pay a thousand dollars than spend even a second more longer with this infuriating man.

"Deal."

Thankfully, it's a smooth cruise after money enters the equation. He immediately rushes to get the paperwork, which fortunately isn't that thick of a pile. All the while I'm working through each piece, he hangs over me like some proctor in a test room.

My mentality finally snaps.

"Here's your check," I say, practically hissing through my teeth as I quickly write him a thousand dollars. I couldn't stand him watching me like some hungry vulture— but I also can't find myself to stand the smug smile on his face as he quickly escapes with the precious paper nestled in his plump hands.

My eyes burn with fire as I look back down onto the fine print, and the rows and rows of blank spaces where my name would be in just a few minutes.

I hope he chokes on it.

__________________________

"V!" I quickly say, stopping him right outside the heavily reinforced doors of the prison. His eyes watch me curiously as I pull out a dark cap from my pack of belongings, and adjust it on his head.

It only takes a couple straps to fit snugly, and I step back to admire my handiwork for a couple moments before I explain.

"The sunlight." I whisper. It was a hotter day than most, and his eyes were too used to the constant dark of the prison. If the bright came too sudden, he could hurt his vision.

"Now you're ready," I say, smiling widely as I push against the doors.

He strides out into the warm sunlight, like he's always belonged to the outside world. And face bathed in daylight, I can't describe how ethereal he looks in the yellow swath of the sun as much as the silver of the moonlight.

A smile dances on his lips, and I smile just because he does.

Even though he's already been outside once, he stares at everything like he's never seen them before. From the waterspouts in the park and the rippling grass, he doesn't leave anything unseen— careful to observe, to memorize.

It makes me sad to know that he's burning the scenery into his mind just in case he went back into the darkness.

"Here," I finally say, motioning at the apartment. It feels like forever since I last left this house for the first visit to prison— even if technically, it's only been three months and a couple days.

"It's big."

I giggle as I swipe the keycard against the scanner, leading him inside when it clicks green.

"It's not all mine. I live in the very top floor— so always remember to use the elevator," I say, motioning towards the two metallic doors at which he was looking at like it was a time machine.

His reluctance to get in only proves my suspicion.

"It'll be alright," I say, grinning when the alarm increases in his eyes at the sight of the silver doors opening. "Promise it won't bite."

"I'm not scared." He scoffs, marching inside first as if to prove his point. "I've been through much worse things."

"I know," I say, a hint of sadness in my voice as I press the topmost button.

"I know."

__________________________

"Password— 1235813." I say, wondering why his eyes lit up all of a sudden. "If you can, try to remember. I'll change it to something else if—"

"Fibonacci Sequence." He breathes, and surprise freezes me to the ground as he glances at me for confirmation. "It's that, isn't it?"

"You're right," I exclaim, eyes still wide. "How in the world do you know that?"

"Just because I've been confined for eleven years doesn't mean I haven't been educated," He shrugs, pushing the door open in front of me.

"My uncle used to teach me whenever my parents weren't looking— he was some professor in some famous university, I think."

His eyes soften, and I can tell that this person is someone who he'd truly cared about.

"He never caught on— my parents always forced me to wear long-sleeves and pants whenever he came to visit, to hide the scars. He's dead now."

The last part throws me off guard, and I'm left standing outside the open doorway for a few long seconds before I finally follow him into my apartment.

"This is yours," I explain, waving at a guest room across from mine. I'm practically bouncing on the two of my feet as I quickly give him a tour of the house, overexcited already to take him outside.

"You're happy," He observes, and I burst into laughter, grabbing onto his hand and initiating a playful waltz across the living room floor.

Although he immediately freezes up in surprise and I nearly trip over his leg, I dismiss the attempt as productive and pat his soft, fluffy hair.

"Of course I am. I have everything I'd ever want in this world."

"Am I everything that you want in this world?" He says, voice clearly indicating confusion. The innocent look on his face only makes me want to kiss him onto the first light of dawn, but I make do with a shy kiss on his cheek.

"Yes."

"You are my everything."