× church

@q kun β For a place meant to soothe the soul, this church felt so oddly cold and eerie. Yangyang's uncomfortable body language had gotten even more noticeable, foot unable to keep still, continuously tapping from how nervous he suddenly felt. It felt as though he were waiting for his death just sitting there, as if the higher-ups were deciding whether to take him up into the heavens or push him over a cliff and plunge him into hell. These were not the kind of emotions a church would give a person. He didn't have to be religious to know that.

The weight of the other's hand on his shoulder made him flinch, and for a moment he would have gotten really defensive until he reminded himself that a show of trauma was not what he needed right now. Despite being in such a holy place, the omega felt nowhere near safe. There was something in the damn room bothering him, and he couldn't quite point out what it was exactly, mostly because he was too oblivious, failing to realize that his inability to see the wrong in the person sitting right next to him would soon cripple him.

The warning sirens continue to ring in his head but proved to be very useless to the boy. Yangyang knew he was clearly not seeing something here, he was worried, anxious, scared even. But the pastor was the last thing on his list, he keeps telling himself that a man of the church would not be the cause of his unstable feelings. It couldn't be. They shouldn't.

"Hm, kind of sounds like me, except I only go out when necessary. The outdoors isn't as healthy for me as I thought it would be," he huffed, looking down at his lap where his fingers had been nervously playing with the ends of his sweater. Silence comes quickly after he speaks, and Yangyang decides a few seconds later that he could absolutely not take it anymore, immediately racking his brain for a good excuse to leave.

He lifts an arm up, pulling up his sleeve to check his watch, and even though the time wasn't at all very significant to him at the moment, he pretends that he needed to be somewhere else. As long as it wasn't here. "I-It was nice and all, thanks for commissioning me, but I believe I'm running late to another appointment. I might have to go now," it wasn't Yangyang's best reason to leave, but he hoped it would suffice. He could always use his therapy as an excuse as well, if he really needed to. But now that he was forcing himself to stand up from the pew, he began to get worried about turning his back on the pastor, afraid of something he still couldn't recognize. He just wanted to get out.

And a voice in his head stresses that now would be a good time to do so.

@l yangyang ᴷᵘⁿˢˡᵒᵒᵗ Ω The frown that eased its way onto his countenance was natural, worry evident in the furrow of his brows and purse of his lips. “That’s not good. As nice as it is of you to be passionate of your work, it’s not a great idea to be exhausting yourself from your job. You should rest where you should and when you can, it helps with the relaxation of the mind and peace of your body.”

Each word slipping from his lips were like honey, smooth and soft, sweet and heavy. He allowed his hand to rest upon Yangyang’s shoulder, a gesture meant to bring comfort, when in fact his conscience did it out of nothing more than intrigue. He knew the other disliked socialising, and in that case he would also not be fond of physical contact, the very reason why he did what he done — to unsettle the boy, rattle him.

“It is indeed,” confirmed Kun as he glanced around the church. There were probably birds chirping outside, wind blowing steadily, the perfect image of a calm spring with all the beauteous melodies. However, encased by the stone walls of the church, all such noise had been blocked out, and the only thing to accompany the duo in this dome was silence, utter pin-drop quiet. “Not many people visit the church, it’s rather sad. We do have visitors sometimes, when someone seeks guidance from the Lord or just needs to take off a load from their shoulders. On casual days as such however, that would be unlikely.”

The sudden movement from Yangyang caught Kun’s attention, though instead of being alarmed, he was amused, interested even as he wondered what went on in the artist’s mind. He could tell the younger was tired and that he needed proper sleep — the thought of the boy sitting beside him, about to pass out any time soon from fatigue, tickled a side of him and making him feel giddy. He had to hide such thoughts though, schooling his mannerisms as he observed the male, pushing the sadistic imagination of beholding a possible scenario where Yangyang fell asleep, completely vulnerable for him.

“Of course,” answered Kun simply. “I take care of my church, basically live and breathe here. There are times where I go out, but most of the time I wander around while waiting for any potential visitors. You’ll never know who might come in with a confession to make.” He shrugged casually. “If the sisters are in though, I’ll allow myself some moment of reprieve, maybe have a walk around the streets and eat something. I don’t always lock myself in this church if possible.”

@q kun β Yangyang nodded his head gently, taking a deep breath before walking inside, the sound of the huge doors closing behind them causing him to flinch in surprise. The boy followed the other to sit at one of the church pews, gently setting down the painting between the back of the front pew and the kneeler. Normally, considering that he was alone with a person in a really quiet space, Yangyang would have been really tense. But he was too tired to feel worried, the exhaustion evident in the way he tried to keep his eyes open and in the way his shoulders sagged, lacking its usual energy.

The pastor's previous statements had completely gone over his head, but now that he was sitting down at least, he was able to focus more on the older's words, though it reached him with some delay. "To tell you honestly, no," Yangyang starts, sounding a bit too emotionless for someone who had just finished a painting. "But it's alright. This is a regular thing for me. Kind of like an artist's woe, really, we don't get things like this done within a night." Or maybe it's because Yangyang refused to give himself a good break whenever he started a project. Unhealthy, yes. But was it fulfilling? Sort of, but it was good enough for him.

Yangyang looked around the church, feeling a shiver run down his spine at how silent it was. He hated how quiet it was even though he was used to such silence, though if he stared long enough at the church bell, he could almost hear it ringing in his head, a loud echo-y brass noise. "Is it normally this empty?" He soon asks out of curiosity, mostly because he was kind of hoping that another person would come in so he wouldn't have to feel so intimidated sitting with the pastor beside him.

It felt weird just to be sitting there, as if his instincts were still warning him of a danger he couldn't see. The echo of a church bell he could still hear in his head had quickly turned into somewhat of a siren, and suddenly, Yangyang straightens his back, eyelids fluttering open properly in an attempt to stay alert, or at least, awake enough to be able to run away once he finally figures out what was making his mind so restless.

"It's been a while since I've gotten close to one of these. Still feels like I don't belong here though." He sighed, trying to divert attention away from his body language. "So do you just... spend most of your time here no matter how empty?"

@kun Ω Prayer was an activity Kun loved the most as a pastor. The ease and peace that washed over him when he knelt before the altar with his hands clasped before his chest, eyes closed and allowing darkness to encompass him, ears accustomed to the silence of the vast church, only the soft whispers of his chanting could be heard, flowing to his ears smoothly like a gentle music. Feeling the sun that flowed into the room through the stained glass behind the sculpture of Jesus hovering before him, it was like being graced with the touch of God himself, the warmth of the Almighty’s presence caressing every inch of his countenance.

It was almost as if he was in a whole other realm from reality in this moment of hush, not to be disturbed by any outer force and not to be worried by any troubles. The process was an enlightening experience, one that makes individuals become closer to their God, pouring their hearts out to the man who created them, allowing their Father to enter the depths of their soul to cleanse away their troubles and worries. Once everything was over, these personages would be left behind with a feeling of contentment, a lightness on their shoulders as if the weight there had been lifted, a floaty feeling overcoming their being.

However, while Kun was deep in his prayers, a knock suddenly rang and broke the quietude permeating the ambience of the church, echoing through the halls and bouncing off stone walls, successfully disturbing the pastor from his intimate moment.

Instead of feeling irritated though, he was curious. Standing up from his position, paresthesia prickling his legs and causing him to wobble slightly in his stance, though Kun was quick to recover himself. He then approached the entrance where the sound had obviously came from, opening the tall doors of the church to reveal the boy standing behind the heavy wood, a bright smile gracing his features when gaze landed upon the familiar face of Yangyang.

“You came,” exclaimed Kun with glee, stepping to the side as he gestured inwards. “Please do come in, Yangyang. The sisters are not in at the moment, and there aren’t many visitors currently, so we’re alone.”

Kun waited until Yangyang entered before allowing the door to shut behind him loudly, walking ahead of the boy and gesturing for him to follow, sliding into one of the benches and patting beside him for the younger to sit too. He was patient as Yangyang took his seat, hands folded on his lap as he started, “I’m guessing you’re finally done with your artwork?” He eyed the package that the younger had been holding onto this whole time, eyes quickly returning to make contact with the latter’s. “Thank you for coming all the way out here to send me the commission.”

Kun could tell the other was tired, noticing the bags under Yangyang’s eyes and the unhealthy complexion. It made his brows furrow in worry as he softly asked, “Have you been resting well, Yangyang?”

@q kun β The clock on the wall mocked him, reminding Yangyang of how many hours he had already spent sitting in front of his canvas, surrounded by an array of paints and brushes, accompanied by the rough sketch of the supposed piece laid beside him on a wooden stool. He had lost count of how many meals he had skipped, relying on his occasional ten minute breaks for nutrition — which honestly wasn't much considering it was mostly just chips and water keeping him alive at this point, and if he was felt more generous with himself, there would be a cup of instant noodles and a can of soda on his desk. But now that he was on the second day of his project, he had reverted back to quick snacks, unable to pry himself away from his work.

It got more intriguing the longer he stared, the more he painted it together. Browns and greens were the first to introduce themselves to the canvas, followed by a gloomy palette of grays and blacks and whites for details. But after all the plethora of colors, Yangyang decided to scan the next color scheme, taking his brush to thinly outline where the roses and thorns were supposed to before observing what palette he had to work with. Reds and oranges, bright and vivid, meant to stand out amongst all the darker colors in the painting. At first, Yangyang does hesitate again, but soon remembers that this was what a customer had asked from him, and that no matter how odd it seemed to his own standards, he needed to comply. He runs his brush along the ground of the image, painting in the prickly stems and winding them around the cross, with some daring to scratch Jesus' skin. He incorporates the white roses into the picture, stained with crimson, as he was instructed. In the middle of the patch, he leaves one rose completely painted in red, looking much healthier and stronger than the rest of its fellow white roses. It was up to an individual's eye to decide whatever that meant to them.

Finally, after three days of hard work and unhealthy eating schedules, Yangyang wakes up to a finished product, completely dry and ready to frame. He makes quick work of the edges, fetching a glass pane from his collection before framing it himself, checking it several times for impurities of any kind. When he finds none, he sets it down and wraps it up for safety before trudging to the bathroom to wash up and get ready for delivery.

Eventually, he finds himself standing in front of the church, with the painting tucked under his arm. Despite being a place of worship, it felt weird just to be standing there, but he assumes it's probably his lack of religious belief making him feel that way. Noticing the rather empty chapel, he gives a knock at the huge entrance doors, hoping the pastor would show himself first before he walks through them.

@l yangyang Ω “Ah, if it won’t be too much of a trouble, could you bring it to me?” Kun smiled sweetly at Yangyang. “I’ll be at my church. You should come by some day. We have prayers on Sunday obviously, but we’re always open for anyone who needs God’s guidance in their path.”

Kun watched with a quirked brow as Yangyang quickly got his items and bid his farewell, smirking a bit as he watched the younger dashing away for safety. A chuckle of amusement slipped from him before he got up from the table, entering the cafe to pay for their orders. He left for his church after that.

~*~*~

It was another mundane Friday at the church, tranquility imbued the air as sunlight streamed through stained glasses. The smell of an old church wafted in the air, earthy and calming, an odd mixture of ceramic and nature. Kun adored the smell — that odd, yet soothing fragrance one inhaled when visiting a church, cathedral, and so on.

He tried contacting Yangyang in the three days he was busy with the painting. They managed to have small talks, the first few times lasting in two to three texts discussing about the artwork and its progress. As time passed though, their text managed to last a bit longer, and Kun even succeeded in making the artist talk about other subjects that didn’t involve the commission.

It was just Liu Yangyang — a normal boy with a life and not as an online artist.

Kun knelt before the altar as he said his prayer, whispered words slipping from his lips, a murmur that echoed throughout the vast expanse of the church, hitting every nook and cranny. It was nearing noon and lunch time, but Kun was waiting for Yangyang to arrive with the art piece he promised to get done in three days. He wasn’t sure if the younger could do it though, but he was willing to trust the other in his capabilities — he liked to be surprised.