He had left the food behind. After several minutes of contemplating my options, I decided to not let the food go to waste. It also saved me a trip to the wretched town.

My health returned with a few days of rest, and as promised, no more visits by a rather nosy village boy.

I found myself wandering over to the window sill again and again, in pretense of finishing the drawing of the cat. But the charcoal only ever stained my fingers, it never grazed the stone. And my eyes never left the courtyard as if afraid I'd miss a glimpse of whoever or whatever I was supposedly expecting.

The routine got boring and extremely frustrating. I couldn't understand my own thoughts. I'd sent the boy away. He was but a nuisance. Why would I expect him to come back?

I didn't dare assume that it was a certain want for company that I was feeling.

Staring at the walls covered in smudged Sunflowers, and the yellow blanket discarded on the floor didn't help my thoughts. So I decided on a walk.

It appeared the townsfolk hadn't been around the castle property for quite some time. My rose bushes were intact, and the path I usually took to the meadow peak was without rude remarks written on tree trunks, sharpened wood dropped along or any other sort of harmful things I had previously encountered.

The relief it gave was unusual, and I couldn't help but wonder if he had anything to do with it. Despite no obvious threats, I kept careful watch of my surroundings as I walked on.

I heard rustling somewhere to the right, and slowed down my pace. A bird flew out of a bramble from the vague direction the noise sounded in.

"Don't take another step!"

My body obeyed on it's own to the wariness the shout held. My feet were rooted to the stop, and I heard the rustling again, this time behind me.

Gold spun hair came into vision next to me, as he bent to retrieve something from the ground. He extended his palm so I could see rusty nails, nearly a foot long. There were more on the ground, pointing upwards, right where I was about to step.

Why? Why this hatred toward someone they knew nothing about? 

But my thoughts wouldn't allow me to make such a judgement.

What about you? You were the same way. You were worse though, because you showed it to the ones who loved you.

But now, here was someone who very nearly saved me from being a victim of that hatred. That was definitely new. How was I supposed to react to that?

"Thank you. Jimin."

When I looked up, he was smiling already.

"Do you walk along this path often? You don't take any other routes?"

I'd  continued on my walk, and he had followed. I didn't make any objection, and he hadn't asked for permission.

"I know it was you who did it."

The boy who was trailing several steps behind me, caught up to me quick as a wink, when I said those words.

"Me?! I wasn't the one who left those awful traps there! I was the one who removed- Oh!"

"Yes. Why?"

He was starting to slow down again, so I stopped walking entirely.

"It was wrong, what they did. Leaving traps, throwing stones, banning you from the town. Treating you like a curse."

"I am a curse, boy. When will you get that through your thick head and stop following me around like a fool?"

I was almost at the top. I could see the town from over here. I walked till I reached the very tip, the wind whipping against the heavy black cloak. The only reminder of my old life.

"When my heart turns to stone, and I become as cold as a corpse. Or whatever silly rumors they've spread about you come true."

I heard him walk over, until we were standing side by side.

"But my heart is still beating and I don't feel any less alive. Besides I think you could use a friend."

I scoffed and turned away from the town, starting to head back in the direction of where I belonged. Hidden, one among the ruins.

"Monsters don't have 'friends'."

"Do they at least have names?"

The walk back was the same as the walk up the hill. Silent, but this time the air was filled with an awkwardness.

Yet he followed without complain or demand. Would he be true to his words? Did I want a friend? Did I deserve a friend?

No. I'd lived the past years, shunned and alone. It was fitting of me. I was worthy of it. But then, somewhere a longing still prevailed. To speak, to listen. To be heard and understood. And just maybe, to find salvation?

I walked up the front steps without looking back, showing cold indifference. In truth, I was afraid my resolve would crumble and I'd allow myself to risk another person. I was partly relieved when he didn't follow or call after.

I had my hands on the door, ready to push it open.

"You're no monster, Mister. I'll prove it, not to the world, but to yourself. I'll prove it true, if it's the last thing I do."

I didn't open the door. I also didn't turn around. Something told me I would regret it if I didn't respond to him, while I also had a stirring that no matter what I did, it was going to end badly.

But I realized, I wanted to give him an answer. And so I did.

"You can call me Taehyung."

                     ******************

That night, I became sure. That whatever sense of humanity Jimin had misjudged me on having, would have been broken to shatters by the screams that echoed out of my castle.

The pains were always unpredictable in their arrival, but never closely timed in their occurrence. I had barely just picked myself up from the last one. But this new one, it had a whole new character.

I felt my heart beat against my chest with ferociousness like never before. And in my delusional state, I imagined my heart trying to fight it's way out of its shrunken cage. It felt like a fight for freedom.

The floor was spilled over with paint, charcoal bits and what was leftover of the food he had brought. The pain got more and more intense, to the extent that it began to interfere with my breathing. I clutched at my shirt, pressing against my chest, hoping it would calm the racing.

I felt something slick against my palm and my breath hitched further. But when I brought my  trembling hand closer, to take a look, I saw yellow. From the paint that had splattered over the floor.

Perhaps it was the relief mixed fear, but I started to feel the room spin beneath me. My head felt like it would roll to the floor like everything else I'd let fall. Frantic, I held my head, moaning as my insides churned in response.

My hands trailed down the porcelain when my finger suddenly caught on something, halting the movement. It felt like Time stood still as well.

I didn't dare to move my hand, lest it turned out to be something I'd imagined. I moved the pad of my finger against whatever had caught the tip of my nail. It was a chip. 

Like....... a crack. The porcelain had cracked.

My hands fell away in shock. But they were back on the mask the next instance, desperate to know if they had felt right.

It was still there. A chip on the left side of my where my cheekbone would be. I moved my finger further left, tracing the crack till it reached my ear.

I couldn't move beyond that. I was afraid. Afraid to slide my nail into the crevice and tug at whatever would come off. Afraid that it was just an illusion and that it might get sealed up if I took my hand away. Afraid that there was an underlying reason behind this sudden turn of events.

I began to withdraw my hand, but the paint had slightly dried over in the time my hand had remained on the face. So the mask was tugged at too, and I heard a musical crack. A sound I had both been dreading and yearning for. 

An uneven piece of porcelain fell to the floor. A cold wind caressed what had been exposed of my face, and I felt myself shiver. I reached up, hesitantly, and my fingers were met with the warm, smooth feel of skin this time.