Work Text:
White had his life planned out for him since birth. He would become a diplomat, marry a nice Thai woman and have enough children to please his parents. Now he was barely recognizable. His style was now a strange mixture of P’s plaid shirts and his bright pants, he had more scars and wounds in the few months back then he had for 20 years, he was running with a delinquent group set on justice, and was deeply and wholly in love with another man. He sucked his stomach in, knots twisting as he gazed at Sean, who was, thankfully, still sleeping.
The room was dark, barely lit by the streetlamps outside, and White couldn’t fall asleep. Curled up on his side of the bed, all he could do was watch Sean, who was restless in his sleep. Turning this way and that, like he’s looking for something. He knows it’s him, Sean was a cuddle monster in his sleep, but White couldn’t convince himself to scoot closer. He was pained and vaguely disgusted at himself, at what he was doing and what he became.
White wasn’t raised religiously, but he simply couldn’t escape it either. As a boy it was Buddha and his teachings, in Russia it was God and his rules. He hardly went to churches or temples, but it didn’t stop religion from finding him. At sleepovers he was often dragged to church, he said prayers, and when White was really struggling to adapt to Russia, when he couldn’t think in Thai or Russian, when he missed Thailand and Black so much he was left crying, he begged. To Buddha for guidance, to God for forgiveness.
White knew he liked boys and girls since he was little, it was a simple fact of who he was then. Then he moved to Russia, became a teenage boy, and suddenly found himself unnaturally isolated as everyone began to date and hookup while talking about their disgust at their queer classmates, at gay people they could never understand. They said it with such ease and confidence, like there was nothing else, that they were always right because who would say otherwise? One girl was bullied so harshly she dropped out one day and White never saw her again. They were doing a project together and he would often stare at her empty chair.
It haunted him, her empty chair. Would it be him next? Thrown aside, harassed, and eventually forgotten because he dared to be different? So, he never told anyone about himself. About the shame he always felt, the fear, how guilty he felt as he kissed his past girlfriends, as if he was tricking them, infecting them with his sin. Did they deserve to know? Would they like him if they knew? Would anyone?
In church he often felt like he was being watched, feverish, as if everyone knew how sinful he truly was. Years passed and White simply pushed it down, his attraction to men and want for them was lost in a haze of classes, exams, and a string of girlfriends. He was content and never thought about a life outside of what was expected of him. Except now he was outside of it, very far out of it, and it was like he was a boy again, too scared to touch but drowning in want. Of course, they were a little past the whole touching part, but some days it left him feeling dirty, full of sinful, dirty blood and muddy thoughts.
He hasn’t told Sean any of this yet, the words always caught in his throat when he tried, but White was certain he knew already, or at least had an idea. He knows when White is losing himself to his thoughts and can easily distract him, forcing him back into the moment. When they’re trying to have sex, but White can’t let go of his oppressive guilt, they just cuddle instead, skin on skin, hearts beating in sync as White tries not to cry. Sean hasn’t brought it up either, but it’s only a matter of time now, he was much braver than White.
He turns again, facing him now, and he’s a little starstruck. Beautiful brown hair now a mess of bedhead tuff. He was laxed despite all his turning, legs curled up a little, arms resting in front of him, one laying just beside White’s own hand, twitching. His brows were furrowed a little, and his lip was a firm line, it made him chuckle. Even in sleep Sean worried. Gently, White grabbed Sean’s hand, squeezing just enough. His face smooths, shifting closer to White, who could only smile at his boyfriend.