Azaleskis,

Its been four years since Little Fruit came to me.

It was her sixteenth birthday today. She looked very beautiful in her white dress. White suits her. Out of all the colours, it describes her the best.

But, I wonder if I can touch her when I know this fact.
I am nothing but the mixture of shades that remains unnamed and unused. Will I sully her?

Watching her today, laughing and enjoying her small party, for the first time I feel conflicted.

Friend. She was my first friend, she will always be that. Someone I will always protect, will treasure. Someone who is mine.

Because, she smiled for me, got angry for me.
She. . . cried for me.

But now, that definition is slowly changing and I don't recognise it. To be precise, I am afraid to recognise it.
My feelings for her was always clear, now, they are becoming. . . more tangled, imperceptibly intricate.

Save those three persons, her family, I have started to get irritated if anyone else talks to her for long. I don't like hearing her making plans which include others beside me.

This is, not normal. I know that.
But I can't stop myself.
The more I try, the more annoyed I become.

She is important to me. She is my everything.
Her voice is the last thing I imagine before falling asleep, her smile the first thing I feel like seeing when I wake up.

But lately, disturbing thoughts keep plaguing me. What if she leaves? What if she makes another new friend that she likes better than me? Anyone is better than a stoic iceberg who cannot express his thoughts freely. With me, every single conversation is started by her, continued by her. She knows me, so she understands what my gestures mean without me speaking out the words.

But what if she gets tired of having such a person around?

This got me on edge. Because she only knows the gentle me, never the ruthless bastard I have become.

Maybe, the more I feel, is the future.

Love.
I don't know what it means, but I will never be able to associate this word with anyone else.

And that, is frightening. If I love her.
Someone like me, is their love safe?
Or love from someone like me, is just a synonym of curse?

Does it matter? I won't leave her. I won't let her leave me.

I can't.

What do I do?
What should I do?
If there is one truth in these convoluted mess of emotions, it is the only clear thing I know.

I cannot live without her.
And I am starting to fear. . . .

I also cannot die without her.

Mother was right. I, am a Monster.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

There it was. The inevitable point where he had to have understood his natural progression of feelings.

The one time, when he would have hesitated. His conscience flaring up.

Knowing what he chose in the end, Anya skipped the pages of his internal struggle. She closed the diary, picking up another.

because the giant idiot didn't know, there was no point in this struggle.

They were two souls born to have their fates intertwine.
They were born to love each other.

The only tragedy was, they found each other too late in his life.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

Azaleskis,

8 years, Little Fruit has been in my life.

Nothing I do can cover her up anymore. She shines too brightly to be covered up.
I did try though.
I really tried.

Her father's profession doesn't help. In my world of business, there are two types of influencers. One, who can visibly move the world with their power and wealth, known as the kings.
The other, the ones who are invisible, but the power they wield can make or break the Kings.

Anya's father and she herself are the second kind. Everyone wants to possess her. Her beauty makes the acquisition even more appealing.

She doesn't know the times her friends, other than those three, had tried to set up a trap. She remains unaware of so many people approaching her just for those connections.

She doesn't need to know. I will take care of it.
But lately, I am badly losing it.

Ryong keeps trailing her. There have been many times that have come to my notice that he has been watching her from afar.
But, he does nothing else.
Knowing this makes my blood boil, but its tolerable. As long as he does nothing, it will be tolerable. But I have no guarantee if it will continue to be so in the future.

Hong Yi and Jong Gi, those two vile creatures are driving me to the brink. Their attention on her is lewd and I am getting sick of holding back

I am barely holding onto my leash but its getting difficult every time.
Why do I sense everyone looking at her??

But worse is the realization, that I don't have the courage to ask her. Ask her, if she loves me. If she would like to spend her life with me.

What if she says no? What if she says she trusted me just like a friend? Blueberry can be endearingly naive sometimes. What if, helping me, was just her kindness?

I know myself enough to foresee what will happen if that is the case.

I will snap.
I will become the beast that others can see in me, the one that hides in front of her just to bask in her untainted smiles.

Over these years, she has become the reason for me doing everything that I do.
I Love her. I am in Love with her.
I burn for her.
So much. So very much that it hurts.

Those blue eyes with that sweet smile, it tears through me, piercing me deeply with its purity. The pain that torments me is what I thirst for, a privilege which is mine alone.

But it fills me to the brim, that unclenching pain. In the night, the darkness helps me hide the deep obsession I have for her. I can't help it. I can't hold myself back anymore.

I cannot. Not anymore.

I desire her, I. . . want her to a degree where I am consumed with just the hint of her memory. Her fragrance lingers around me, constantly tormenting me down to my dark soul, her voice makes me forget reason. Even my violent screams in the dark gets muffled by the weight of my dark fantasies.

My needs.

To possess her completely. To hide her away from this disgusting world that is filled with only filthy souls. She does not deserve to be in such an unclean place.

I am drowning in my darkness, fearing to smother her light until it extinguishes. In the depths of night, I sometimes want just that. Because then, I can hide her away.

So, if she denies it, if she rejects my love, this violent self will burst forth. Even if I brace myself against it, I will not be able to stop it.

Her rejection, will make me not want to.

If that happens, I will lose her smile. Those lovely eyes will lose its shine.

That fear is a possibility I never want to bring forth. Not because it will be intolerable, but because if it would mean she will stay by my side, I will not mourn the loss.

And if I become that uncaring, I will not deserve her. If I remain undeserving, then all I will get is her body in this life. She will not tie herself to me after death.

Intolerable. Just one lifetime with her is intolerable.

But, the other possibility makes me sway towards a freezing deathly gale. What if. . . she loves me back?

What if, she loves me, the me she knows, and the me that she senses hidden within, invisible to her? If that happens, knowing her, acceptance would be a given, she will not leave even after seeing the truth. I know she will still smile while looking into my hideous soul and bind herself to fall with me. She will be dragged, willingly.

And I will take her there, in that everlasting hell with me. No hesitation. Even though I know she does not belong there, she. . . .

I cannot change, what I do, the way I think. . . . the way I feel has become absolute, so she will try to adapt. But she is too soft, too gentle. . . her purity that she tries to hide under the act of being tough is just that. An act.

My love would become a curse for her, and that in turn will become a rotting wound in my heart. But I would still let that pain radiate as long as I could have her in my arms. As long as I could reach her, keep her, touch her whenever I want, that it becomes a normality for me.

I will ruin her.

And I will not stop.

Why? Why am I this way? What should I do? I cannot detach myself from her, and I will not let anyone else take her from me. She is both my oasis and mirage for which I can purge the whole world in scarlet red.

I am resting in that oasis, but it still remains a mirage.

Things cannot continue the way it has been, a decision needs to be made. I am the one with this task. At the end of the day, I know the very first instinct she evoked in me. To protect her.

That has never changed.

The choice I have in my future is to protect her from every danger. . .

Or

To protect her from everything but me. . .

Anya, the queen who rules me. The sweet friend who calms me. The girl who smiles at me.

And the love, who breaks me.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

The diary slipped from her hands as the final realization clicked in place. Anya sat on the bed, her entire mind a blank, her empty hands trembling. The distant premonition she had felt when she first came to this house, manifested with clarity.

The future, the answer, the reason. . . she knew it now.

Surprisingly, no fear or tears tormented her. Or, maybe it was no surprise. Because theirs was a fate tampered with right from the start and this premonition, had started taking shape in her subconscious since the day she saw his lonely eyes screaming with raging pain in the numb, stoic face of the teenager attending his mother's funeral, silent and obedient under the weighted, blind eyes of his elders.

Anya calmed her racing heart, hesitating in picking up the diary.

It was too painful for her.

Too painful.

Reading those thoughts, bleeding for the injustice, the suffering, the. . . . distortion he underwent in details yet, being unable to do anything about it. Being unable to do anything as she read how far from the right path he wandered off too. How his vulnerability combined with his pain to steer him into path from which there was no return. To commit sins, he could never atone for.

The journal was his explanation to the doubt she held of him being slandered. The doubt of who he had become in this past year.

"To you, I will forever be the one who guards you the way one will protect one's breath. To them, I will always be a monster"

Yes, there was no denying he had become a Monster. The journals followed his entire mind in its relentless, helpless and irrevocable descent in his madness, in his insane obsession.

But,

A monster, who had only just craved love. Just that. The basic right every living being had. Love and respect.

Him becoming what he had, was just the consequence of his fear of that very thing being taken away from him.

The journals were nothing but screaming cries of help which went unheard. . . unanswered.

They were the proof of his fight against what the world had set him to become even before he was born. It was the proof, that he too had once been pure.

It hurt.

It hurt even worse because she knew it could have been different. This entire thing might not have happened had she only been experienced enough to handle it.

If only she was not this useless paragon of light.

Wisdom comes from experience, and experience comes from pain. We have never really known pain. We are souls without any shine. To shine, edges need to be cut. Being cut, is to feel agony.

This was what she had said to Mira, but suddenly, an endearing voice of a stranger, of an older woman echoed her incomplete sentence.

"You, are too young my child. Too innocent. Too naïve."

Anya closed her eyes, chasing that voice which seemed to have said even more.

"Because you still don't understand Obsession is a black Easel. You can either paint a beautiful painting on it with the sincerity of the White colour of your love or you can lose your own purity and color the paper in a shade which will never show, which will get lost against the blackness. Obsession can either become a form of protection or it can spiral out of control to destroy both lives.

You are not strong or wise enough to guide him, Aaya. You are not capable of making him understand."

A light mocking laugh breathed out.

It seemed that her guardian angel of the lady had gotten her name wrong. But, her words, were correct.

She was not yet wise. Though she had been a child when she met him, growing up, she was still oblivious. In the 13 years, she had glimpsed what was underneath his veneer of gentlemanly patience but she had chosen to keep it unseen.

Whatever voice she heard, or hallucinated, at least gave her another bit to understand.

Joon's obsession, had been both. A spiral of destruction and a form of protection. Because his obsession stemmed from love. From protecting that love, not for possessing it.

Not wanting to, but still gathering her dying spirit, Anya lifted the diary and turned a page, only to find it blank.

Puzzled, she flipped through the rest of it. Then picked up the remaining two diaries and examined them.

Blank.

All of them were blank.

Confused and a little panicked, she stretched her hand out to the first diary she read when an icy cold hand came from behind her, grasping her palm and intertwining their fingers together as a firm, hard body curved around her spine and held her close. Another hand came to cup her cheeks intimately, caging her form between his larger frame.

The deep throaty voice whispered near her ear, stirring up the skin of her sensitive nape, "Don't force yourself when it pains you. I am right here, beside you. Ask me."

His cold, soft lips kissed the shell of her ears, "And if you can, love me."

Anya leaned back in the possessive embrace, "And if I can't?"

Joon remained silent for some time, nuzzling her softly.

"If you couldn't, you would not have cried again for me Little Fruit." Saying so, he gently brushed the trails of tears Anya herself was surprised about.

Turns out, she had cried after all.

Carefully, Joon gathered her closer still, closing his eyes as he breathed in her fragrance.

"I love you."

The Monster simply said.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

A/N : liking it?

Please vote and comment if you are.