"Tzuyu."

He seems stunned as he jerks his hand away, stumbling backwards into the walls. The moment I see the life returned to his eyes, relief crashes down on my body.

"V!"

He only tenses as I throw my arms around his frozen form, letting his warmth seep and blend into mine. A relieved smile paints itself across my lips as I embrace him tighter.

I'd really believed he wasn't going to come back.

Then the smile fades as he unravels my arms from his figure, a look of numb horror on his features. My expression grows frozen as well as I stare into his chaotic eyes, waiting for what he might just say next.

He looked terrified.

"I-I hurt you?"

Before I can even think of how to reply, my mind and body act first. My head instantly swivels left and right as I repeat no until he looks even slightly convinced.

"No, V." I say, taking in the fear in his gestures, the trembling in his hand. He looks so vulnerable at the moment that it seems like he's going to break any second.

"You didn't do anything."

"But I was about to," He says, eyes narrowing and widening again in realization. "I was about to."

"You stopped yourself," I remind him, as gently as I possibly can as I carefully wrap my arms around his shaking figure again. This time, I don't let him push me away.

"The important thing is that you stopped." I repeat, pressing his body to mine as his face twists into a wince. Sadness downturns the corners of my lips at the sight of him, so agonized and in suffering.

I'd do anything, give up anything to take that away from him.

I can feel his reluctance as he touches me, hands soft but desperate. He whispers so quietly that I barely manage to catch the meaning behind.

"I didn't mean to be like that," He says, vulnerability twisting the silk of his voice. "I swear, I promise I didn't mean to—"

"Of course, V. I know." I press my palm against his back as comfortingly as I can, sorrowful that he was always driven to think like this. It wasn't his fault in the beginning.

"It's not your fault. And no matter what happens, I will help you through this. I promise."

__________________________

V's POV

I can't sleep.

It's been hours since she'd last told me that she'd walk my path with me, that she would help me with my problems.

And I still can remember the words like she'd spoken it just a second ago.

Moonlight spills onto my face as I throw the blankets away, finding the mattress too warm for my comfort. I'd gotten too used to the arctic temperatures in the prison, too used to the dull darkness among the cells.

Even though I can feel my face flushed a soft red from the heat, the tips of my fingers tremble with a chill disassociated with the temperature in the room.

I can still picture my hand raised over her small figure.

I'd been about to hit her— hurt her. What would've happened if I'd found the flashlight just a second or two later? What would've happened if I'd forgotten the flashlight at all?

What might've happened at the cells could've happened all over again.

And the next time, worse.

Sleep is now forgotten in my mind as I sit up on the bed, staring emptily at the blank walls on the opposite side of the room.

If I do this, it will break her.

The words she'd said drives me down— about how she'd always be there, no matter what happened. And I was smart enough to translate that as to no matter how many times I would hurt her and shatter her heart, she'd still return in the end.

If I do this.

I couldn't just stay here knowing that I had the capability of hurting her any second. Even right now I was capable of losing myself again.

And I can't.

I can't live with myself if one peaceful day, I opened my eyes to find my fingers wrapped tightly around her pale neck. I can't live with myself knowing that that— it could happen anytime.

If I do this, it will shatter her.

But she will be safe.

__________________________

"Rise and shine!"

It's eleven o'clock already, and V still hadn't woken up. Considering his habit to always somehow wake up before me, this had confused me before I'd simply convinced myself that he just might be feeling sleepier than usual.

So I'd let him sleep.

But it was eleven.

When I crash through his door, I'm stunned to find his bed completely bare. The blankets are ruffled, but I find not a single soul underneath those covers.

Where was he?

Had he already woken up?

Confusion roots me down to the ground for a long moment before I decide to check the bathroom and the closet. When I find no one there as well, I check the living room as well.

I check every inch of the apartment.

And still no V.

The dread that's been choking me down grows tighter as the impossible drifts up in my thoughts. But it can't be like that. He possibly couldn't have done that, right?

Then I find his shoes missing, and my world crashes down into the bleak ruins of the paradise that had been there before.

He'd left.

Tears fill in my eyes as I push open the curtains, feeling massively disheartened as I look out into the city below. There were thousands of buildings— much more places for him to go than the prison.

He could be anywhere, and it could take forever to locate him amongst this cursed world.

What had I ever done? What had I said to make him leave me?

The morning skies darken with my tears as I touch the place where his shoes used to be, just a pair of plain black sneakers that I'd never realized how much it could mean until now.

My appetite completely diminished, I abandon the breakfast I'd prepared and rush towards his room. If there was the smallest sign I could find that indicated his return, the smallest signal—

There just might be. Maybe I'd missed something in the first place.

I force myself to hide my tears as I look over the simple room— the exact scenery since the few moments I'd came in ago. Despair plunges through my heart as I look down on my pale feet.

What's the point?

If I do this.

He won't come back anyway.

Then something dark and sleek catches my eye, and I numbly reach for the object nestled upon his desk. It was the camera— but hadn't he put that up high on the living room shelf yesterday?

Even I can't help myself as I press the power button, watching each of his masterpieces come to life on the tiny screen.

The very first photograph that comes up is the one that he took of me yesterday morning. My brows are furrowed with concentration as I attempt to flip a piece of bacon over on the skillet, my lips pinched together in focus.

He's made me look beautiful.

He's made me look beautiful in the rest of the pictures that follow, each of them nothing short of perfection. There's even one of me passed out cold on the couch, and he's even made that look like I was some ethereal angel that'd come down for a nap.

Tears streak my cheeks as I scroll over the film, wishing that I'd find a picture of him buried amongst thousands of mine. Why had I never took a picture of him? Did I really believe he was going to stay forever by my side?

Then a choked sound escapes my dry throat when I click to the last picture, the tears spilling from my eyes as the camera nearly slips out of my clammy fingers.

It's his picture.

Or more specifically, it's our picture.

While my eyes are closed with sleep, V's eyes are alight with beauty and amusement. He's looking down on my sleeping face like it is the sun that rises every morning, the light that fills his life.

His smiling lips are pressed against my closed eyelids, his arm wrapped gently against my shoulders. It's something so magical— a beautiful moment that a camera shouldn't be able to capture.

His first memory.

And my last.