In the part between her lids, Evey could make out the basic outline of his head and shoulders, sprouting out the top of the crumbled blankets. His shirt muddled, his skin creased and distorted, his muscular back arching and churning as he stretched in his sleep. Since she had taken his mask off, she had tried to resist the urge to examine him but now, now he had her full attention and as her eyes adjusted, Evey became slowly captivated. His skin, in its unreal shade of pink, glowed slightly against the white of the sheets. The air between them was filled with a strange tension.
It was awkward,, even with him asleep, to see him. He wouldn't have wanted her to, of coarse. He never would have let her see him if he she had had a choice. Evey took some secret solace in knowing that, even if she had had a choice, if there would have been any other way of saving him, she might have panicked, and seen him anyway. That's what she would have said if he asked. That she had had no choice in it, that it was impulsive. He would have believed her. At least he would have liked to believe her, so he would, for their sake.
He was a complicated man, her V. Sweet and sour, soft and rough. She had sometimes wondered in her months of staying at the gallery, whether he was insane or possibly schizophrenic. He had the signs, and with all that he had been through it wouldn't surprise her. A strange query occurred in among her thoughts and she quelled it instantly, she knew the answer. She would love him even if she was crazy. There was something different about the surface of his skull suddenly; a small movement that caught her eye. It was a hand, thin and white, almost skeleton like, its fingertips softly grazing their pads along his dermis.
The contrast between the two skins shocked her a little. She had never realised how pale she was. The sight was a sudden darkness in her otherwise dreamy thoughts, not necessarily bad, just intense by comparison.
His warmth made her heart ache a little, something once so frightening and mysterious now seemed strangely familiar. She felt a little nostalgic. Evey took a breath and placed the whole palm of her hand against his skin. He would have protested, had he been awake. He would have reached back in the time of an intake of breath, swiping her hand from his skin and keeping it between his fingers. But Evey knew as much as he resisted, he would have enjoyed the sensation. She wondered how long it had been since he'd been touched and the idea made her want to touch him more.
A month ago she would have hated herself for thinking that. It was almost silly to have been in denial to how she felt. Looking at him now she knew he feeling would never fall away. She had learned that the hard way, spending all that time out of the gallery wishing that it would. Oh how she had despised the thought of him during those first few weeks out on her own. Wishing constantly that she wouldn't have to see his face everywhere she went, on the screens, in the shops, in her head. And in peoples words, oh how people had loved to talk about him. It drove her wild. HE drove her wild. Inwardly, she cringed at her thoughts. She could hardly believe how much she had hated him then. But even after the hate drained away she still thought about him. Every day, all the time.
She dreamed about him, more dreams than she could remember. Evey recalled waking up in her flat and wishing that se hadn't seen what she had just seen. It was then that she knew, her thoughts about him would never go away. She was in love…
He beau stirred a little amongst the blankets. He breathed her name and shock riddled through her bones. Evey swept her arm around him and pulled him a little closer to her. His heart beat could be felt even through his back. Her hand remained on his scalp, feeling the rough texture.
"Evey…" he murmured again.
"Good Morning" she whispered.
Suddenly the scene changed. V's muscles twitch and scrunched under his shirt. He pulled from her arms and sat up.
"V?" Evey said. His tall figure stood in front of her and she felt for a moment a sparkle of happiness. It had been days since he had been on his feet. He was suddenly showing signs of real strength. But why?
"V, your still ill. Come and lie down. I'll get up." Evey pushed the blankets aside but the tall dark figure was already gone. Her hands felt suddenly cold again. As she sat up, she could make out the sound of long feet being slapped against the floor as he ran. Evey quickly got out of the bed and followed him. He had somehow evaded her in his strange frustrating way. Poking her head around corners in search of a sound Evey eventually was able to track him down. His head hung in the toilet bowel, that pink round shape she had gotten familiar with since she had woken now draped over the side melting into the shape of a muscular body that draped onto the floor. His breathing was slow and spaced. He must be unconscious, Evey thought. The hulk of his body shook in her arms as she dragged him back to her room. What ever strength that had possessed her to carry him had been drained.