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Image of saints; a bruise; mostly gold; church architecture; old pew kneeling paddings; are all stray dogs lost?
It's not really a matter of unbelonging or of not feeling at home, but a matter of self-preservation, yes. A matter of holding oneself back. discipline? Is it a matter of denying oneself pleasure? restrain? But what if again it is for your own good? Will this outweigh this need of... of what? yearning.? What can be a metaphor for this? What creatures that walk on this earth are capable of holding themselves back at the sight of something they crave? Who has that much self-control? Surely not humans? Right? Vampires, perhaps? Saints? Nuns? Dietitians? Is the ability to control oneself from wanting…. inherently good?
Choi Soobin has long since made peace with the fact that he has always been (and probably will be) the one who's first to leave; Lover? Loved One? The Leaver. God forbid being The Left.
So yes, Choi Beomgyu has been admittedly tolerable at most times. Even when he is rage baiting the fuck out of his hyung. Sometimes the thread stretches thin though. When he pouts, take advantage of his unbelievably puppy-like eyes when he lets his eyes linger a little longer. Nevermind that they are mostly clingy with each other. These were mostly the times Choi Beomgyu is at his most intolerable.
Now kneeling on the grand church's pew. Choi Soobin's eyes reflect the dim, old-fashioned lights of its halls; his palms have accumulated sweat from too much mutual contact. The mosquitos were leaving marks on his exposed skin. He has been here for a while. Staring at the altar at no image of a saint in particular, he continued to self-reflect, hoping to untangle the knots of his mind. About academics, his family, and—although he would never admit it—his very much confusing feelings toward his bestfriend.
He dives deep, observes, and measures the approximate of these thoughts. Of the circumstances he is in and wants to be in. Although a significant part of him wants to act on his feelings (yes, he has always been honest with himself—at least he tries to), there is also a part of himself demanding to be heard that is loudly screaming NO. He should not ignore this, of course; having these feelings is risky enough—risky for his self-preservation, risky for his ego of not being rejected just yet (not directly, at least), and most importantly, risky for their friendship, not just between the two of them. Their circle is like his family now. They have saved each other multiple times. He owes them. He owes them to not ruin this. Ruin them.
Thus, he noted three reasonable points of argument.
1. They're friends.
2. They're probably not compatible anyway.
3. Their friends.
He left that pew still marked from time and from his massive knees, stared at the altar, and decided to leave with the newly (not really) conceived vigor and firm decision to pray away these feelings and bury them until they completely vanish. It will work. He will make it work.
Now, Choi Beomgyu was staring at him with a small pout, fidgeting, his lashes not even hindering the size of those criminally doe eyes—Choi Soobin could not even recall the faces of the saints; was there even an altar? —What The Fuck was he supposed to do anyway?
"Nevermind, my mother is completely healthy." And then he smiled at him, all canine and toothy, the rest covered by his godforsaken dimples. God, how was that supposed to be charming in any way at all? Idk, ask Soobin's fluttering stomach.
For a brief moment, Soobin stared at his palms; they were again sweaty. Not unlike how they were placed above the wooden pew moments ago. He really did try to recall even the names of the saints. He cursed silently at himself, of course. The veins on his fist signified the effort he is putting in to recall the reasons he had made up for why he could just be in the mere presence of Choi Beomgyu and not be immediately pulled by his very own gravity. Choi Soobin may be a psychology major, but he always thought pseudoscience to be beneath him. But then again, how the fuck would you explain his unconscious behavior of gravitating towards the younger? How the fuck would you explain the quiet of his mind when Choi Beomgyu is around—especially with the contact of their hands, skin? That warmth? That surge?
Was he Pavlov'd by him? Can any behaviorists or any attachment theory explain how natural it is for him to automatically sit and stand next to Choi Beomgyu? Like it's his rightful place to be within his arm's reach? Hell, can Freud explain ts? He'll take anything at this point.
Choi Soobin closed his eyes, tried hard to recall wooden pews, moth-eaten foam, dim lights, fails.
And finally thought to himself, I must get away. naturally. 'I have always done this.'
Walking away; Leaving. Escaping?
But how? When the gravity is this strong. When he is being pulled much closer every second he stays, he might drown. And the scariest part is that: he might just let himself be.
And would it be so bad? To drown and feel like you can finally breathe? To allow yourself to be drowned. To let go of restraints (self-imposed or not). Because—after all, is this really self-preservation or self-starvation?
Choi Beomgyu was an all-consuming being that Choi Soobin cannot help himself in the face of.
Drowning is, of course, laced with fear, of uncertainty, of being far away from the familiarity of walking away, and of the comfort of the assurance of the zero chance of being the one left behind—still drowning.
He should run away, of course; he knows this. Isolate. Out of sight, out of mind. Leave.
But then there he was. Gravity hits, and God, how could he?
There he was.
And this is a loop, you see. This is a loop wherein a leaver who is in love can never escape nor run away from.
At least Choi Soobin can't.
From Choi Beomgyu, that is.