Work Text:
1996
Barth did not have much belongings when he was brought into this seminary. He did not have much belongings when he is leaving too. All Barth had was a small duffle bag, filled with a few clothes, a worn-out photo of his mother, and some money that he had saved up. It would be enough to last the two of them for at least a few weeks as they look for a place to stay and get settled in.
The young boy walks down the familiar hallway of his dormitory, ignoring the verses that are carved onto the walls, looking straight ahead, where a single yellow light illuminates the area. The night is still young, but most of the boys have already begun their nighttime prayers and are preparing for bed. Barth could feel the hushed whispers, their judging gazes, and the curious frowns that follow him as he walks past each room.
He finds Tanrak without much walking; there was only one place that the boy frequented.
Barth steps into the chapel, ignoring the stoup of holy water before him as he walks inside. The chapel feels warm despite the cold nights that they have been having the past week. Tanrak kneels before the golden cross that looms over him, his back hunched forward, deep in prayer. The latter takes a seat nearest to his lover, silent as he waits for Tanrak to finish praying.
This time, Tanrak finishes his prayer faster than usual, standing up as he murmurs a final chant and finishes crossing himself. The young seminarian turns, his eyes tired, his face pale, and yet, his lips curl upwards into a warm smile upon locking gazes with Barth. “Hi,” Tanrak breathes, his voice echoing around the wooden walls of the chapel, disrupting the peaceful silence of the prayer room.
Barth stands up to Tanrak, mindful not to step too close to him. He looks down, finding the rosary wrapped around the boy’s hand; a few beads are chipped from when he threw them against a wall; “You’re still using that,” Barth notes.
Tanrak looks down, tired eyes turned to confusion as he follows Barth’s gaze; “Of course,” the boy tells him. “This holds years’ worth of prayer. I can’t just leave it behind,” much to Barth’s surprise, Tanrak is the one that steps closer to him this time, minimizing the distance between them. He holds his breath, watching as the shorter boy’s hands come up to smoothen the wrinkles on his suit, to readjust his necktie—gentle fingers tracing over his body.
When Barth manages to catch Tanrak’s eyes, the seminarian only smiles; “There’s something I want to show you before we leave,” he murmurs.
Tanrak guides him through the backdoors of the chapel, past the changing rooms and priest offices until they stop at an open space. Lit only by the gradually melting candles that are fastened on the walls of the room, Barth comes to stand before a painting. He looks to his left, observing the look on Tanrak’s face as he stares at the canvas before him.
“It’s called the stairway to heaven,” Tanrak tells him, his voice reduced in a hushed murmur, careful not to disrupt the silence of the night. “As every devote Christian walks up the stairs, he would be met with many obstacles and beasts in disguise before finally pushing through and arriving at the gates of heaven,”
“Many people told me many things about you,” Tanrak continues. “The greatest blessing in disguise was not listening to them,”
Barth turns to look at his lover, his eyes pained. Throughout his life, anger had been something constant, but fear.. fear was something he struggles to accept. Fear of losing Tanrak, fear of never being his first choice, fear for their love, and fear of God. Despite all that, Tanrak gives him an encouraging look that’s enough to curb every question that runs through his mind.
Tanrak offers his hand to Barth, and Barth.. takes it without a second of hesitation.
“Do you think there’s a place for us up there?” he asks his lover.
Barth feels the hand that squeezes his own; soft, warm, everything that he has been craving for years. And in that moment, maybe Hell did not seem so bad after all.
Tanrak looks ahead, a myriad of expressions flickering across his face, eyes gazing upon the beautiful painting. He exhales softly, “I don’t know,” he answers. “But I’m not afraid anymore,” Tanrak turns to Barth with another squeeze to their hands. “Whatever the answer is.. we’ll stay together. Hand in hand. Just like this,”
Barth finds his vision blurring, the brave façade that he has been putting on for so long, now coming crumbling down at the sight of Tanrak’s warm smile. A boy once glowing like the sun, holding the light of God in his palms, now shunned and cornered as a sinner. All because he loved Barth with all his heart. A boy, once hailed to be the purest child of God, now tainted with sin.
“I’m sorry,” the words leave his lips before he could form a coherent thought. Barth turns his body to face Tanrak, tightening their hands as he bites back a sob, “I ruined everything for you. I’m so sorry,” he can’t look at Tanrak anymore, his heart filled with so much pain, with all the what ifs and how differently things could be if he had just bottled up his feelings for the boy.
The silence of the seminary is disrupted with the sobs that go muffled behind Barth’s hand. For a brief moment, the boy wonders if Tanrak had realised how much trouble he had caused for the both of them—maybe he regrets it now, maybe he realises that he has chosen the wrong path to—
Tanrak’s hands come up to cup Barth’s cheeks—one cold from the holy water, and one warm from Barth’s hand—caressing the flushed skin, thumbing away the tears that have fallen down. Barth finds himself leaning into the touch despite the war in his mind; Don’t touch me. I’m tainting your hands. Don’t touch me. I am a sinner. And you are everything pure in this world, my Tanrak. Don’t touch me.
“I have no regrets,” Tanrak’s hot breath fans against his lips, their noses brushing, foreheads touching. “I have no regrets at all,” he reassures Barth. “I’m not losing my faith when I leave, nor am I losing God. Open your eyes, Barth,” gentle fingers push away the strands of hair that dust his face, as Tanrak softly urges his lover to look at him.
When Barth opens his eyes, he finds determination in Tanrak’s own. Determination, relief, happiness, and so much love. “Tanrak,” Barth breathes.
Tanrak inhales, his smile reassuring; “I promise you, Barth,” he begins. “I promise you that God will love us endlessly, and even if he doesn’t, I will. He doesn’t abandon his children, even if it meant leaving this seminary,” Tanrak pulls Barth close to him, wrapping his arms around the boy in a warm hug. “Because God is everywhere. God is all around us. God is you. God is me. God is us, and God is the love we have for each other.”
“Loving you came so easily to me, because that’s just who you are.. A boy full of love,” Tanrak continues. “And loving you is the choice I made.. Because I would rather lose myself, than losing you,”
The expulsion is done, nobody wishes to see them anymore, and nobody wishes for them to stay here any longer. Even Father Isaac who had raised Tanrak since his adolescence. The hurt was evident in Tanrak’s eyes during their final meeting the board of directors of the seminary. Barth could not help but feel as if Tanrak left everything for him, and he.. has nothing to give to the boy in return.
“I don’t, ever, want to hear those words from your lips again, alright?”
Tanrak’s words slice through the pain his heart, making him forget about the worries of the future for a brief moment. All Barth could focus on is the warm hand that caresses his cheek. He offers Tanrak a smile of courage, covering the hand with his own. “Okay,” the boy whispers. “Now what?”
The seminarian—now expelled with the boy he loves—only smiles wider at the mere thought of their future together. “Now we hope,” Tanrak tells him.