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

26

The renewed feeling of falling into a groundless depth marked by timeless eternity, didn't tarry for long. Due to my mental fall the memories, that were hidden in the rearmost drawers of my mind and were only a few despite their vast value, seemed also to solve from their cage sealed by denial.
I browsed through the snapshots like a photo book, in which our short time spent together was a bigger gift than possibly being accepted by others.
Only for one moment I allowed myself the irresponsibility of getting lost in those memories, like in a labyrinth made of Bliss and eternity.
The purpose of it leading me astray seemed irrelevant at this moment.
Solely the feeling, reconstructed by the memories, of his view, readable only for me like a book that needed to be deciphered, that untiringly saw the words' light from his tight, semilunar eyes.
Just as the feeling, reconstructed by memories, of his voice vibrating in my ears and being filled with emotions, opposing to his facial expression and the quiet volume, while he was pronouncing single words.
But the most gapless feeling was of his self created words wrapping my damaged soul like a gown and calling every forgotten, lost or denied emotion from the rearmost corners and undiscovered depths, prepared of bringing it to their existence's limits, pronouncing themselves like only the purest and truest feelings were able to, something, that had apparently been withheld to him for his entire life.
Something he desperately tried to find in his words so he could free himself from the mask involuntarily being put on his face.
Vainly.
And exactly those words were the ones making me mercilessly come down to earth, where I got lost recently.
Even if I spent years with questioning and analysing this man, who even surpassed any artwork, time's destiny wouldn't be with me.
Because it has already been too late before I could've begun freeing him from his own prison. And even the most beautiful, verbal description couldn't take the tragody from the happened and change it to something poetical.
Because no matter on which detours of play of words you rove about, one day you would get the same recognition.
Neither the death is a part of poetry, nor the poetry is able to own the death.
And even he, whose verbally encryption seemed to be the cure for any evil, had to bow the death, although he had chosen his destiny on his own. The sudden cracking directly above my ears, that were still engrossed in Suga's voice sounding in my thoughts like a phantom, made me wince and stumbling back away from the now demolished door in a reaction time that was unrealistically short for my state.
Shocked I looked into Jungkook's face that was also occupied by pervasive panic.
Thereby the thought of my for my unknowing best friend inexplicable reaction to his past came finally also into my mind after some seconds of staring at each other in silence.
When my eyes went on the handle now laying on the floor, I couldn't avoid a weak, and still marked by inner destruction due to the events of the last days and minutes, smile.
Also Jungkook didn't seem to understand his worry's not existing necessity and went one step towards me, even more uncertainly than before. But my backing away tarried this time.
Instead, I headed towards him, mentally and physically, to clarify the redundant being of his guilt feelings for me by a silent hug.
Apparently surprised by my gesture he joined the hug.
"Don't let this happen again",
he said after some seconds, unable to hide the sudden fragility in his voice.
"Never", I answered without doubting this simple but still in this case so important word. "Jungkook?", I asked after a while the silence had wrapped us in, this time formed in a shroud encasing both of us gently.
"Yes?", he replied now.
But the decision of keeping this specialty of my little secret surpassed the desire of endangering this specialty by circulating it.
"Ah, nothing", I relented fastly and preferably petty, when again a comfortable silence came up.
And along with this there also came a new recognition to my mind
being in chaos.

There was only one thing able to outlive even the death.

And this was nothing else than the love for a deceased soul.

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i wanna cri
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