Darkness Ethereal | K.TH

Breaking Dawn

V's POV

Night.

The cold walls of her apartment seem even colder as I enter through the front doors, desperate to get a glimpse of her after these last few days.

I had to check if she was okay after I left her.

The past days had become unbearable, and it had only been days. I was supposed to be resilient, independent after everything I'd been through.

But resilience meant nothing with her absence from my side.

She wouldn't know of my visit— I was making sure of that. If her cheeks were healthy, full— and she was doing well on her own, then I would have to let her go.

After all, I was only a constant danger to a person who could've done much better than meeting me.

The sheer familiarity of her apartment door nearly brings me to my knees as I press my hand against the dull surface, carefully pressing the numbers on the number keypad.

I'd never forgotten.

The door swings open quietly, and the first thing I feel in the air is that something truly hadn't gone well. Even though the house is dark with night, and should be, it is too dark.

My breath grows fast.

An urgency overwhelms my cautiousness as I glimpse a limp figure collapsed against the couch, half of her body pressed against the window and the other facing the ceiling.

The moonlight makes her skin white.

A corpse, is the first thing that flashes across my mind as I rush over to the couch, the calmness in me crashing down into ruins.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Her forehead is blazing hot, and dark shadows ring the undersides of her deep eyes. She looks like she hasn't eaten for the past year— face ashen with malnourishment and dehydration.

I was supposed to protect her by leaving.

Fear and worry blend together in a mix of pure terror as I take her fragile body into my arms, pressing her cold skin against my chest. She shudders and trembles in my grasp, and that breaks me more than anything I've ever been through.

She was supposed to be safe.

"V?"

__________________________

"V?"

My tongue is heavy and thick as I mutter. Not speaking a single word for days had taken a toll on my voice— the letter comes out as a rasp, sending strain through my throat like fire.

Everything hurts.

But I will not let him go.

My fingers tighten in a death grip on his sleeves, desperate not to let him slip away again. If this was a dream, then I didn't want to wake up. If this was reality—

Oh Lord, was he real?

"Tzuyu," His voice is something that I've missed the most. It sends a path of pleasure racing down my spine, leaving me basking in euphoria that the antidepressants could've never recreated.

"What have you done?"

A small giggle chokes from my lips, and I breathe— softly, carefully. If I went under again, and if he wasn't here when I woke up, I'd never forgive myself ever again.