❝Bathroom Talks❞ m.yg x p.jm [eng trans]

22

I froze during my motion previously caused by the urge to be a prop for him with my planned gesture.
I hardly dared to cast a glance on the boy's face whose existence that turned out due to this little touch to be a little pastime by my seemly indeed vivid fantasy.
As well as a glimpse to his face I refused the sponging view to the spot in the air my hand was still on, probably also the last scraps of this so beautiful imagination consisting of Suga's actual existence.
However, my realization of this shocking situation wasn't even a little part of my surprise.
My trembling, versatile eye lids were still laying over my eyeballs, that protected them from reality's clearness, its damaging couldn't ever mess with the alleged poison of the vivid fantasy, but still I closed my eyes in front of it.
I didn't want to experience this clearness praised for its healing, I didn't want to experience how his lost existence would delete my fantasy evermore.
But an unwritten rule in every man's life says that the curiosity would win against every uncomfortable or painful premonition and would bring clearness into everyone's bare fantasy.
Hence, I became my own for truth begging desire's slave, when I took my eyes from my eye lids previously protecting custody and wanted to look at reality.
But the sight presented to me wasn't the formless grabbing by my hand for the body that should've felt the affection inside my touch.
It was the nonstop consecutive tears that made the despite their paleness artfully created colors of the artwork in front of me shaped as a human dissolve.
After he had told me about his broken friendship with Jungkook I was firmly convinced of already having experienced his emotionality's limits through a single tear.
Even though my mind was already aware of the trick having been played to my psyche, the prudence left my heart untouched.
Hence, I tried again putting out my hand, blinded by naive hope and an undefined, aimless feeling of pain, to wet my hand with his suffering's liquid.
But just like the first time I grasped through the boy's stony seeming veneer whose words freed the actual, porcelain texture from its shell.
But now I was also aware not only his psychical image wasn't solid, when I dragged my hand from the air and layed it in a cramped pose over my heart.
The sight of his face now twisted with pain blurred due to the blindness caused by my tears, that came now together with my retarded awareness.
The realization of vanely looking for the connection I thought I'd find in his words meant for me, the realization of losing the new ground of my fantasy built by his existence. The realization of me having spent the last weeks merely thinking about an illusion projected by my fulsomely distinct fantasy.
All those things reached me now unexpectedly and made the shock over it crawl into my limbs like poison, what made me stumble in my nearly trancelike state and arrive now completely in the bitter, disturbing reality.
The alert eyes, despite the blindness by tears, of the boy, I thought to know and understand, didn't miss this. The pure desperateness in his eyes seemed to overflow the epiphora seeming tenuous compared to it, but my momentary state didn't let me have consideration for it.
Instead I began shaking my head frenziedly again and again, like as if thus I could shed the net that had created the reality around our relationship.
However, I saw how Suga put out his hand timidly, with an uncertainty, his facial expression couldn't reflect any better.
But hardly after a split second he had already put it down again and made both of us sink in the reality's destruction.

"You're not real.
You're not real.
You're not real."

I began pronouncing those three words like a mantra with gaining volume, ignoring the anger, disappointment and desperateness thus finding only a further way to sneak into my heart and invading it completely.

"I'm... not an... illusion!",

he tried fighting against my mantra, with a voice the breaking of his porcelain soul echoed in.
For a moment he seemed to penetrate to the part that desperately tried to assemble the last leftovers of the fantasy.
A moment in which I became aware of every feeling I had ever felt for him due to one single glimpse into his eyes' deep blackness.
But this split second was the one making the last parts of my clear mind burning through.

"You. Are. Not. Real. Back off!"

I opened my eyes and looked finally into the nothingness, I had daily seen before his appearance.
I looked into the nothingness that would undermine me now like an incurable illness.
But when I sank to the floor and my tears' pain wetted it, it had already happened.

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This chapter even more.
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