grey is the truth | jaeyong

17.dream

Music of the heart beat was keep caressing his ears. The boy could feel the warmth of sunlight on his skin.

It was morning but Taeyong was too tired to open his eyes.

He could feel those same warm arms around his fragile body, that strength and warmth had a lovely contrast with his own coldness.

That same sweet perfume was filling his lungs lovingly, almost like a dream.

Just knowing the fact that if Taeyong opens his eyes he can see the motfits putted together drawing Jaehyun's lovely sleeping face in that pink fourwalls filled with cherry blossoms was exciting.

Watching Jaehyun was always lovely.

But that comfortable warmth was making him lazy and sleepy, Taeyong could feel it more than any time, it was more real than all the times, Jaehyun's existence was stronger than anytime.

But it's not because of him being with Taeyong. Wasn't it because Taeyong was missing him?

Funny how that strong feeling of existence is slowly sinking you and filling you in the contradiction of his abcence.

Taeyong gasped, opening his eyes suddenly. He was breathing heavily.

The boy looked around, watching the blank cracked walls he was wondering where are those pink blossoms? Where's his grand mother's tree?

Questions were coming one after another.

Why is the room so cold? Why is the bed so hard and bristly? Why the sun isn't glowing? Where's that big window? And more important than anything...

Where's Jaehyun?

Taeyong was fully naked under that old smelly white blanket, his skin was sticky, he smelled like alcohol and sweat while a heavy makeup was coagulated on his face, It was disgusting.

The boy sat on the bed, trying to figure out where in the world is this old dark room without a single window.

By the squeezing feeling around his neck caused by a black choker and the terrible headache, now he was realizing the situation.

Taeyong sighed. "It was just a dream"

A dream, just a few days ago that loving touch was real but now it was just a dream. Jaehyun became a bitter dream which is very far away from the poor boy.

Taeyong was thinking about how many mornings did he started like this?

Maybe about a month.

A whole month had passed in that hell. Now he could remember what happend last night.

Under the indigo and red lights of the bar while serving the customers, a man leaded him inside this room, Taeyong couldn't refuse since no one would save him even if he gets killed. Letting that old bastard to do whatever he wants.

Just by remembering his scratched voice like an echo in his head was shivering his body. Those rough hands weren't Jaehyun's, Those bloodshot eyes weren't looking kindly at him like Jaehyun, those touches weren't like Jaehyun's lovely caressing.

He wasn't Jaehyun and this was driving Taeyong crazy.

He could still remember whenever he was between Jaehyun's arms while that sweet perfume was filling his entire body.

But now he was filled with alcohol and dirt.

Taeyong hugged his knees. Looking blankly at the wooden door.

He wanted to shout, scream, cry and let out whatever which was stuck in his mind.

But there was no voice left to shout neither no tears left to shed. Taeyong couldn't have any reaction. Only knowing one thing.