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

A Bottle of Depression

I was happy to say that everything had turned out so well. V was talking, speaking, laughing— without straining his throat, and he seemed to have completely healed from his scarred past.

Although the same couldn't be said for me once he discovered the hidden pill bottle under my mattress.

I was humming a song while washing the dishes when V called my name with such urgency that I immediately dropped everything I was doing, struggling to peel the rubber gloves off of my wrists.

Even though my forearms and hands were covered with soap suds, I ignored the white bubbles as I quickly brush them over my shirt.

It wasn't my favorite shirt, anyway.

"Yeah?" I hurry into my room, fearing that I'd find him having a seizure— or even worse, back into the coma that he'd suffered for such a long time. I knew that according to the doctor, the chances of that happening were close to zero— but having him taken from me for four entire years had done things to me.

It made my mind think the worst in every situation— like it'd sucked out all the optimistic side of me and had replaced it with pure pessimism.

But that all disappears when I find him examining my antidepressant prescription bottles, an unreadable look on his tentative face.

He looks like a bomb about to blow.

The shade of his face grows darker with every passing second as his fingers grow stark white around the bottle, like he was about to crush the thing into pieces.

He looks absolutely terrifying when his expression is like that. It's like a different side surfaces, polar opposites from the happy, easygoing side I'd seen ever since he woke up.

"What in the world is this supposed to be?"

From his tone, I can clearly observe that he already knows what the bottle contains. He also knows that it's almost empty, which led to him inferring that I'd consumed quite a lot of those tiny pills.

And the worse of all, he wants me to confirm what he already suspects.

"Oh! Those?" An anxious laugh escapes me as I curl and uncurl my sweaty hands. "Don't worry— I don't take them anymore."

Of course, my fragile attempt to swerve off the topic fails tragically. He was just too smart to see through people's ploys like that— he knew deception when he saw it.

"That wasn't the answer to my question, Tzuyu."

I fight the urge not to suck in a breath at his frighteningly stony voice. He draws his thumb across the bottle— a tiny movement that I wouldn't have noticed if I wasn't so desperate on anything else other than to confirm his suspicions.

Maybe it would've been better that he found out when Jimin had accidentally confessed to my condition during his coma.

"Oh." I swallow, the tiny word barely a breath against my dry lips. My voice seems to get smaller and smaller as I speak. "Those are, um, you know. They're antidepressants....?"

"Why do you have them? This bottle is nearly empty, Tzuyu! Don't tell me you've been the one taking these."

I clasp my fingers and squeeze until I can't, not anymore.

"Okay, then. I won't."

Something crosses his face that makes me wince. The soft material of my shirt gives me little comfort as I twist, twist, twist. I feel like I'm back to a little kindergartener with a principal staring at me.

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. These stupid comparisons of mine has got to stop.

"Why were you taking antidepressants? Have I not been good to you? Am I not enough? Or is it because I—"

"No!"

The look on his face is so heartbreaking that I automatically lunge for him, arms wrapping around his hunched form.

"It's not that, V. I swear it's not anything like that." I draw back from the fierce hug only to kiss him on his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and finally on his lips.

"Then why?"

"Because," Pausing only to trace the strong curve of his nose, I continue without any anxiety remaining in my voice. "You were gone for too long. And why would you ever think something like that about yourself? That's terrible, Tae."

"I'm used to people calling me a monster. Too much— and I start believing I'm actually one of them."

Agony flashes as I recall those who'd treated me like a heartless beast after giving my eyes a single, judgemental glance. It pained me to hear that V had gone through the same thing— he didn't deserve the horrible label.

"They don't understand. They never did." I say, kissing him in the corner of his beautiful almond eyes. "I promise, it's just because you weren't awake. I missed you— too much."

His eyes slant downwards with sadness. "I'm sorry," He whispers softly. "I was so careless. And stupid. More stupid than I'd ever been."

"You just needed some time to heal." Jin had told me that same phrase so many times I'd lost count. And apparently got the words burned into my head as well, looks like.

"No."

His denial is so firm that it takes me aback. I can feel his arm curl protectively over my lower back as he breathes in my scent.

"There was no me. It was you that brought me back— I would've never been able to wake up without your words. And then you helped me remember."

He traces a circle over each of my eyes as he whispers, all curves and smooth surfaces. "Your eyes were the flowers there. Green and blue— the colors of miracles. They covered every inch of the ground, I remember."

Hearing that, I can't help but picture V standing amongst a field painted with green and blue wildflowers— meadows and meadows just full of them. I could only be thankful that he hadn't been stuck in a fiery darkness for the four years he'd gone. To hear that he'd been a peaceful flower field brought me more relief than it should've.

V opens the bottle cap, peering inside at the five or six pills left. There'd been a hundred count— and I'd gone through at least ten bottles since I'd begun to feel depressed.

"You're not taking them anymore, are you? This isn't good for you, Tzuyu. It won't help— it only makes things worse, I promise. I tried them too."

Hearing that makes my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach. V and antidepressants were not supposed to go together. Just the thought of him pouring the contents into his lips, hoping it would lift his mood, made me wince visibly.

"I'm not. Why would I when you're back? There's no meaning to them anymore— I just forgot to throw them away."

I don't tell him that I kept the last bottle just in case he fell back into his torturous coma again. When he'd first woke up, I'd half expected that this was just a cruel joke life was playing on me. That it'd bring him back for a couple precious minutes— days— and would steal him away from me again.

It wasn't the first time life had done that to me.

"Good girl." He whispers, his voice husky and deep. "I don't want to see you near these antidepressants ever, ever again."

Then he stands from the bed and heads toward the window. I can only predict what he's going to do half a second before he does it as he slides the window open.

The rush of cool air hits my skin as he hurls the nearly-empty bottle out into the world below, shutting the wind out almost as quickly as he had let it in.