YELLOW | yj x bg

☀︎ seven.

—yeonjun

Your room is a marvel to look at, beomgyu. I remember the first time I stepped in, it was as if I'd stepped into an entire world completely. Now I know when they say that the room is a painting of someone's soul. I'd like to live there forever, in the sanctuary of your home.

The bedsheets were made of cotton, it felt as if sitting on a cloud. Origami butterflies hung from the ceiling. You said your mother forcefully painted golden all over the bedroom walls to cover up what a mess you'd made underneath. Your hands have never stopped you from being artistic, you paint wherever you go, in whatever canvas you find - even if it's on my own skin. After that incident, you started painting on sketchbooks instead, like a 'normal person.'

But the Beomgyu I know is the one who never lets rules keep him trapped in place. Your mum must have been extremely strict to introduce all these new rules. But damn, let a child express his emotions freely when he's painting.

You'd built a tent using covers and tent sticks and various other mechanisms I don't even want to begin to name. Your soft voice I hear still; how you said that tent is your hiding space. When you've faced enough backlash from the world that you need to scoop up in a cocoon where no one can pull your leg and find you out.

There's a book collection right by the the cozy tent you'd designed: Amongst the piles of books, few of the titles stood out to me like a diamond from the rough: "The Fairy Poetry Collection," "The Little Prince," "The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and The Horse." Even the stories you read are to do with innocence and childhood.

I wonder why.

How crazy is it that someone who treasures his childhood so preciously stumbles across the path with someone who's scared of letting his childhood, or lack thereof, and fly away from his caged hands because he's forced to? It seems that destiny really had planned all things together for us.

While you shared with me the lore of your tent and how it's your hiding spaces, I wondered if you could tell I was biting the insides of my cheeks from bursting out the words, "You're my safe space," but I doubt that even if I had, you'd take it as a clue that the feelings I feel for you are not just feelings two friends exchange.

It's the feeling that's shared between two adventurers who promise to take on the perilous journey lying in wait for them, hands intertwined. Between two time-travellers who've known each other since before the invention of time, who braid the threads of time together. Between two soulmates who want to be in the other's presence constantly, lest their hearts break apart. If their hearts are even filled with anything at all after having emptied all its contents out when loving each other so fiercely, ferociously, and fearlessly.

There's a jar of flowers sitting on your window frame, in direct contact with the sunlight. You take unbelievable care of your flowers because nothing would upset you more if they died. Heck, you start balling your child if you catch sight of a single sign that indicates the death of that flower - The wilt of a petal, the sigh of the flower as it droops downwards, the stem giving up from the pressure as it cranes down like an old man holding a cane.

I've been the sole witness to one of these instances as well. At first I never really understood why you'd let something so small bother you. I mean... it's just a flower, for goodness' sake. Thousands of flowers die everyday, and look- The earth is still rotating just fine!

But with time, in your presence, I came to comprehend that for someone as sensitive as you, for a heart as big as yours, it doesn't take much to send you off the edge. You're like a book I have to read multiple times until I'm able to understand its meaning.

Sometimes I feel tempted to put said book down... but something keeps me reading on. Not because the words that encapsulate your life are so hard to grasp, but because the pathwork of your emotions are so complex and so intense that at times I get seized by fear at the thought of how you contain all these big emotions in that small, frail body of yours.