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Sometimes, Hoseok feels like his world is about to collapse into sharp pieces of emptiness. Sometimes, Hoseok feels like someone is watching him. Sometimes, Hoseok doesn’t see his own reflection in the mirror but that stranger.

———

Instead of a face white as marble and dark lonely eyes staring back at him, his gaze meets with an other person’s soft brown eyes and a smile what’s warmer than sunshine. It’s just for a second, Yoongi always only catches a glimpse: a flash of shiny black locks, long fingers tracing on the surface of the mirror, a heart-shaped grin what reminds him of the feeling of happiness. Happiness is a raw wound in Yoongi’s heart, a hole what grows bigger and bigger, shakes his bones, corrodes his flesh and slowly eats him up alive. That person who lives in his mirror (or maybe in his mind) haunts him in his dreamless nights, while he is tossing and turning in bed alone.

———

Hoseok painted him, his pastel mint-green hair, pink lips and alabaster skin. When he was awake, wondered for hours and hours how smooth that skin would like under his gentle touch. He imagined countless time how the mint-haired boy’s cheeks would look like after a kiss, flushed and rosy, lips swollen and pupils blown. Hoseok is rarely awake and when he is, he still wants to dream.

The boy on the canvas is just a dim shadow of the gorgeous boy in the mirror but that’s the best Hoseok could do. When Jimin asks who the model of that artwork is, Hoseok stays silent. His heart trembles in his chest, tears are stinging his eyes and his stomach squeezes so tightly it hurts, but Hoseok stays silent.

He doesn’t tell Jimin that he sometimes can feel as the painting’s eyes are following his moves. He can’t tell Jimin that he wants to tear the mirror from the wall to see what is on the other side. He can’t tell Jimin that while kissing the fabric of the canvas, he wishes to be with him and no one else.

———

Jungkook lays next to him, curling up into his embrace, his hot breath hovers over Yoongi’s milky skin.

”What are you thinking about?” Jungkook asks and Yoongi hums.

”You. Us.” It’s a lie, the biggest lie he ever told but Jungkook pretends to believe it. He smiles, that eye-wrinkling boyish smile of his, and Yoongi presses his lips together. He can’t tell Jungkook that he was thinking about a boy with chiseled jawline and a heart-shaped smile. He can’t tell Jungkook that at mornings, while kissing the cold glass of the mirror he wishes to be with him and no one else.

———

Yoongi watches as the water runs in the sink and shivers when the mirror fogs up. There are letters drawn with delicate fingers on the glass and Yoongi forgets how to breathe.

goodbye’ the boy on the other side writes him.

Yoongi’s world is about to explode when stares at his own pale reflection and suddenly those tender, brown irises appear and look back at him. The boy smiles but it’s weak and doesn’t reach his eyes. There are pills in his palm, so, so many pills. White and small and seemingly harmless but still more dangerous than anything else Yoongi ever saw.

”No, no, what are you doing?!” Yoongi screams when the boy swallows the pills, almost all of them. Some slip through his fingers and fall into the sink. Yoongi swears that he can hear the blunt ’clinks’ when the pills meet the porcelain.

No!” Yoongi’s fist shatters the mirror and his own reflection’s mouth cracks into an odd smile. Or it’s just the glass, smashed and breaking in parallel with his heart.

———

Yoongi sits in the bathroom, curled up, surrounded with sharp splinters of glass. The wound in his heart burns brightly and Yoongi wants to set his whole life on fire. His fingers are shaking when he rises one piece up and hopefully looks at it. His own reflection stares back, eyes dark, empty and lonely. Jungkook knocks on the door but Yoongi doesn’t answer.

He finally knows what is on the other side of the crushed mirror.
Nothing but the tiled wall.