A World of our Own | K.TH *COMPLETED*

Kiss

Now we know everything, and everything has just been too much to take in. When I'm transported back to reality, I find my arms wrapped firmly around V's neck. The only sentence I can force out of my lips sounds like the most stupidest thing I could've possibly said at that point.

"You're a good storyteller, Tae."

A rare smile curves his lips as he breathes softly. "As you are." His deep voice is quieter than usual, and I'm wondering why when he tilts his face.
It's just the slightest angle, but it's enough to slant the moonlight on his face— and reveal the silent panic and vulnerability in his eyes.

And all I can do is kiss him.

When my lips meet his, it's like everything goes blurry at once and all I can focus on is him and me. His hands are hesitant as he digs his fingers into my hair, but I can feel the resolution growing with every passing second.

Kissing him feels like I'm being unmade into the very core of my soul, and then he's molding me back into the very thing he makes me feel now. I'd always thought kissing was a useless thing— something that people made too much of a deal out of.

But now I realize it's absolutely beautiful.

The hesitation and uncertainty solidly fades away from V's body, hardening into determination instead. With a single fleeting motion, he pins me against the bed, eyes dark with desire.

I'm not a good kisser— I know that for a fact. Besides, I'm freaking out over the fact that I'm actually being kissed by someone, someone so perfect and beautiful. My very first kiss, and I was going to screw this up anytime soon.

Inside of my brain, my mind is screaming from panic— yelling at me not to mess this one thing up. I make the most careful movements as I hold my breath, throwing my arm around his neck to keep my back from touching the bed. Next to me, I hear blankets crushing underneath V's palm as he slams it down against the mattress, his other hand buried in the thick locks of my hair.

This is going better than I'd expected.

Then I get too rash, and tilt my head the wrong way. The next few events that follow are nothing short of the word disastrous as Tae's forehead crashes against mine, and my grip slips from his neck. The kiss breaks with my falling down on the bed, and accidentally hitting Tae on the shoulder when I thrust out my hand to steady myself.

Just stop moving!

When everything stills except for our rough breathing, I look back up at V. His eyes are glazed over with a light sheen, and his chest rises and falls so rapidly that I'm stunned into numbness for a split second. It was hard to believe that he was this out of his usual cold, icy composure, and even harder to believe that I had been the one that had made him to be like this.

Until the light goes out of his eyes and he tilts over to the side, slamming into the empty space beside me.

"Tae?!" Immediately, the euphoric atmosphere from the moments before fades away faster than a candle doused by water. Panic burning my skin, I struggle to sit up as I examine his strained face.

What in the world was wrong with him?

When I slide my hand over his forehead to check for possible fever, it's cool instead of warm— meaning that he wasn't sick. Why had he fainted all of a sudden if he wasn't even sick, or feeling sick, for that matter?

"Kim Taehyung— what's up with you all of a sudden?" I mutter quietly, concluding that he was just probably exhausted and needed some rest as soon as possible. Yes— that had to be it.  It would be terrible if he fainted every time we kissed— that would be so inconvenient.

Tucking a blanket over his chest, I blink sleepily myself. It was getting late, and the warm rays of afternoon sunlight streaming through the window didn't help my case, either. Suddenly reduced to a dazed mess, I slip underneath the blankets next to him.

Just an hour or two— and then I can figure out Tae's condition. A small part of my mind tells me to care for him— what if something was actually wrong? But when I glance over at his sleeping face, his breathing is even— his features arranged into a peaceful expression. The warm sun tones his skin the color of honey golden, making the long dark of his eyelashes more distinctive.

My eyes trace the outline of his jaw, his smooth cheekbones adorned with a beautiful blend of sunrise and sunset. I've seen his face for so many times I've lost count— but I could never get used to how breathtakingly ethereal he was.

I breathe as quietly as I can.

The sweet, intoxicating wisps of sleep clouds my mind, blurring the logical part of my brain. Instead, it reveals the other part— the part that doesn't think about the consequences. The part that does what it wants to do, and doesn't worry about what might happen next.

Blowing out a pleased sigh, I tuck both of my arms to my chest and turn so that our faces are aligned with one another. Only centimeters separate the tips of our noses from touching, and only inches keep apart our lips.

Eyes glazed with drowsiness, I blow carefully— the slightest of breezes, so I wouldn't wake him. Smiling softly, I watch the tips of his silky hair dance for a second before settling down again to conceal his forehead.

As seconds tick by, I let the warmth of his body and his refreshing, soothing scent slowly pull me under the never ending waves of sleep. Not even a few minutes later, everything goes dark— but it isn't the dark that signals death and tears.

It's the dark that signals hope and the faintest sparks of love.