YELLOW | yj x bg

☀︎ thirty six.

Beomgyu was afraid of the dark.

It started when he was 7 years old. If he went against his mother's wishes in the unusual way that 7 year olds do: eating candies before dinner, forgetting to separate out his colored clothes from the whites during laundry time, being too shy to say 'good morning' when passing neighbours on the walk to school, his mom would need to "teach him a lesson."

Her version of a punishment was to make him go to his room and turn off the lights for 10 minutes, locking the door behind her with an extra three-bolt lock so he can't sneak out.

Every single trace of light was ruled out of the list - lamps, the curtains, matchsticks, torches, lightbulbs, glow in the dark stars, the television, electronic gadgets.

She didn't allow Beomgyu to use any of them.

It was easier for him when he was younger. With an imaginative mind that young kids are prone to having, he'd, by some fault or another, mistakenly or fatefully, find ways to make those 10 minutes enjoyable.

He'd imagine a fairy flickering in from the window to grant his wishes, or that he was fighting with imaginary soldiers. It was so non-stressful for him that he'd even end up falling asleep at times.

It's easier to make light of the darkness when you're young, but as you grow up, it becomes that much harder.

Because as time passed, his mother sent him to his room even if he was on his best behaviour and was extra careful not to make any mistakes. She started to do it regardless of the brave fronts Beomgyu would put up. It didn't matter if he was trying his best or trying his least, his mother found every single stupid excuse to make him face his worst fear: darkness.

That was just the time that Beomgyu found most daunting, because there's nothing more terrifying to him than being alone with his own thoughts, which is precisely why he chooses to indulge in distractions so often.

Overtime, she locked him there for longer periods of time. 10 minutes turned to 30 minutes, which turned into an hour. Sometimes she left him there for hours on end, with nothing to do but sit in silence and try to make sense of his shortcomings.

None of this was dependent on the severity of his actions, but rather the mood his mother was in at the time. That's what he came to depend on everyday, if it was going to be a good day or a bad one: his mother's mood.

He has learned that nothing is more exhausting than relying on someone else's momentary frame of mind to dictate the goodness in your day.

You would expect that the longer one spends time in the darkness, the more they get used to it: befriend their ghosts, make out shadows lurking in the dark, play pretend... but for Beomgyu it was never that simple. With every visit in the dark, he grew resentful of it.

Every night he lay there rolled up like a ball, his knees pressed to his chest, his head buried in his hands, as he took in his surroundings for what they were: Nothing.

Absolute nothingness.

And Beomgyu is scared of precisely that. Whether he closes his eyes or opens them, it stays exactly the same, with nothing surrounding him. And that thread of nothingness threatens to spread and inject a painful venom in the soft edges of his heart.

The dark is lonely. He doesn't have a single friend, he can't express a single to those around him because there's no one present. Being alone with your thoughts for prolonged periods of time is dangerous, especially if you've got a brain like Beomyu's that constantly fires out echoes that decreases your self-worth, and continuously taunts you for a teeny tiny mistake you made.

He'd grown afraid of it. Whenever he's thrown into his room, it feels like someone has punched his gut, his breath comes out in shallow gasps, air becomes difficult to inhale, and he lays there sprawled on the ground, unknowing of what to do, clutching his head like a madman about to go insane.

Banging on the door or screaming for help doesn't help, so he lays his head against the wall and loses himself in a daydream that he wishes to drag out for as long as he can.

His favourite way to keep his brain occupied is to think of the unforgettable memories his friends and him made in the previous weeks in school. The smallest jewels that string up a necklace - the moments in time that are considered insignificant but held precious to Beomgyu all the same.

Things like laughing at the cafetaria table talking about something stupid, or laying sprawled on the football field staring at the sun and labelling our own versions of what animal we think the clouds look like.

His smile starts to fade as he realizes he could never tell his friends about this, how he doesn't feel safe at home - the one place he's supposed to feel safe in. But it doesn't matter, at least he has them for now. For however long 'now' is supposed to be.

He's scared to think of the time that they won't be beside him anymore. Nothing lasts forever. Who knows when they will be taken apart from him? How can you lose someone who has taken up so much room in your soul, whom your heart beats with as one?

Is this longing going to backfire too? Is he going to have no one at all he can confide in his woes and worries? Is he going to be the only one stuck in the past while the rest move on effortlessly into the future, riding off into the sunset like there's no tomorrow?

His eyes prickle with tears and when he places a hand on his cheeks, his fingers are wet. Who knew thinking about something that makes you so happy could make you cry...

So, let's clarify: It's not the dark Beomgyu is afraid of. It's the fact that he has no one there to comfort him that he's most scared of.