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"...Because I'm just through the glass"
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*Touches on some pretty heavy topics. Please read at your own risk*
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"Do you enjoy this? Making me believe I'm not alone and that someone might actually love me? I just want to be normal! But I can't do that!"
AS DAYS PASSED and Chan slowly but surely finished the book Seungmin had recommended to him, the burnt orange cover began to fade more and more noticeably into a dull yellow. Chan didn't know if it was just his mind playing tricks on him as he flipped through the pages, but he knew one thing and one thing alone: Seungmin knew something and Chan was angry. However, he wasn't sure if he was angry at Seungmin for knowing and not telling him, or himself being obvious enough for Seungmin to know.
In the back of his head, Chan wanted to know how and why Seungmin knew about his dreams. But the anger pumping in his veins outweighed his curiosity, and Chan was left sitting on the floor of the bathroom in nothing but a yellow t-shirt and oversized black boxers, boiling in his own head. He seemed to have the inability to function like a basic human, too freaked out by everything going on around him to focus on taking care of himself.
It's not as if anyone actually cared for him. BamBam left an hour ago after knocking on the door for two minutes, Jisung and Jeongin stopped calling two hours ago, and Seungmin hadn't said a single word to Chan since he lent him the book. It was obvious, to Chan anyway, that he was unwanted when he was at his worst, so didn't bother trying to fix himself. The only person that could possibly handle Chan at his absolute worse was Minho, and-
Minho.
The anger inside Chan only seemed to bubble up more when Minho even crossed his mind. None of it was real. It was all a game. None of this shit existed, none of it. The lovers in the book didn't exist. They weren't really separated and found their way through using another's help. They didn't finally coexist with one another after breaking the barriers. They didn't start a war in another universe. It wasn't real. So why was his mind feeding into this horrendous idea of true love and companionship?
He didn't even register that he was up on his feet before he was staring at himself through the mirror. His skin was tinted red and eyes narrowed into thin slips as he kept his curses at bay. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw neon yellow dripping from the ceiling and a certain, uncontrollable anger took over. Chan's knuckles met the glass in front of him with a cry erupting from his lips, blood seeping out onto the sharp, shattered pieces and onto the off white sink below.
Chan's bottom lip trembled mindlessly as he just kept punching the mirror over and over again until his knuckles met the wall behind and his feet stepped onto a few of the pieces on the floor. The pain hadn't quite registered at that moment, but when he saw the blood not only coating the sink but the white floor tiles, something else clicked in his head and he was left with the mess. Chan should have cleaned up the glass and his knuckles, but instead the whispers in his ears, the more evil ones, urged him to sit down on the floor with his legs pressed against the sharp edges of the glass.
