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"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."
The words were rough, forced out, like the words were spat out of his lips in disgust.
"You have, my son?" Harry asks, his voice soft, empathetic. Encouraging the person to elaborate. "How long has it been since your last confession?"
"Never." The voice grunts back. "Ain't really… Religious. But I dunno where else to go about this."
Harry draws in a soft breath, keeps himself calm. Running a chapel in South London, he's heard everything. People begging for forgiveness for robbery, gang violence, murder. Once for stealing someone's dog for their own child. Harry always plans for the worst when he goes into confessionals. As he talks, he thumbs over the cross on his rosary.
"I understand. I'm glad that you have chosen to turn to God… May you please elaborate on how you have sinned, my son?"
There's a pregnant pause. Shifting on the bench from the other side of the grates between them. Must be a bad crime, then. Brilliant. He couldn't even tell the police, that would break Canon Law. He'd be excommunicated straight away.
"Right…" The voice finally says with an exhausted sigh. Harry can see the indentation in the grates where the person is leaning their head against it. "Promise if you.. You recognise me, or my voice, or anyfink… Just don't tell anyone, yeah?"
"It's quite alright. I'm not allowed to tell anyone else. Your secret is safe with the Lord and I."
"That's, uh… Bit of a relief, then. Yeah." The other person sighs again, scrubs their hands together. "Best get this started, then…"
"Do not worry about my judgement. This is a judgement free area, my son." Harry is now grasping the cross on his rosary. The person is stalling, something seriously must be wrong.
"Uh… Right, yeah…" The person clears their throat. "Am I allowed to swear?"
Harry chuckles softly at that, relaxing just the slightest. "I would prefer if you didn't. You can substitute words out, if you wish. The s-word could become 'shoot', for example."
"Yeah. Yeah. I get you." The person continues. "Right, uh… Right. Sorry about stallin' and all. Just quite hard to talk about it…"
"Take your time."
"Father, I… I… I dunno how to say this nicely… I been having these thoughts recently, yeah? God's gonna be fu- bloo- God's gonna be… Fricking raging about it. Cause I've been seein' all these, uh… Demonstrations and things. And apparently God don't like people like this."
Harry blinks, going through his mental list of people that God doesn't like. The person on the other side of the booth sounds like a youth, maybe in his early twenties. The fact that there's been Christian demonstrations against the subject leads Harry to one of two options. Yet, he doesn't want to jump the gun and spook the boy. He makes a little noise, a hum of understanding, encouraging the person to continue.
"I been having these thoughts, Father. Bout, uh… Men and stuff. But I ain't gay, right? I only wanna do the giving, you get me? No receiving. Receiving is for pansies and sh- shoot." The man is quick to defend himself, almost talking angrily, as if Harry's insulted him just by thinking about him receiving.
"Yes, I, um… Get you." Harry's shoulders slump in relief. He's glad it's only something like this, instead of a body lying in an alley somewhere. "Now, my son… I must tell you that you've done nothing wrong."
"I ain't?" The man sounds genuinely shocked, shifting on his bench again. "Thought that was one of the sins, though. Like, thou shalt not be gay or some sh- some shoot."
Harry laughs quietly, resting his hand on the grates. He can feel the warmth of the man's head on the other side. "Unless God has just came out with that commandment, then I cannot say that it is on the list of sins, nor in the ten commandments. I wouldn't consider it a sin, my boy. It's simply love."
"Yeah? I don't wanna tell anyone 'round me. Not even my mates or anything. I don't know anyone like… This…" The man trails off. Harry's heart fills with sadness, realising how lonely the man must feel.
"Well, I think you do know people like you. Some are simply too scared to come out, due to their social background or family. Some aren't allowed to due to their jobs. The feeling of… Being in the closet, so to speak, is quite a terrible burden, isn't it?" Harry asks softly, his hand staying against the grate, the pressure of the man's head still on the other side.
The man pauses. Then speaks. His voice isn't rough any more, it's quiet. Almost sounds like there's tears behind it. "Yeah… " He mumbles, realising that the priest understands him. "Yeah, it's fucking shit, ain't it?" He says before he can stop himself. Harry sighs softly, though he still wears a small smile.
"You must apologise for swearing in confession, however."
The man pauses, then grunts "Sorry.".
"I'm afraid it will have to be a slightly better apology than that." Harry murmurs with a smile, leaning back from where his hand was against the grate.
"Sorry, God. Don't mean to swear in your house. Just kinda came out."
"... That'll do, I suppose. Now, about your issue… You will always be loved, no matter your sexuality. There will always be someone there for you. If you ever need to confide in someone, know that I will be here for you. And I ensure you, your friends will probably take the news better than you ever imagine." Harry whispers, completely speaking from the heart now. He's been in the exact same situation as this young man, he knows exactly how scared he is.
"I can't… You sound all posh, yeah? It's easier t'come out for yous, innit? Ain't all yous just shagging on the down low, anyways? Boarding schools and politician orgies…"
Harry sighs heavily at the vulgar language, but ignores it. "It they are your real friends, they won't care about your sexuality. It does not define you. You're still their friend underneath it all." He glances at his watch, not wanting to wrap it up, but knowing that there's twenty or so old ladies waiting outside the confessional booth, wanting a chat with him about nothing in particular, just wanting a conversation without any sins to actually confess. "Listen… I must wrap this up soon, unfortunately. But I am in my office from eight o'clock in the morning to nine o'clock in the evening every day. Any time you need a friendly ear, or a shoulder to cry on-"
"I don't cry." The voice was back to being rough, defensive. As if he had never cried once in his life because men, obviously, don't cry. Not South London men.
"It's a figure of speech. Anyways… My door will always, always be open for you. And I don't say that to everyone, you know."
"What's your name? Just so… So I got the right office, yeah?" The man's taken his head off the grates, but Harry can vaguely see the outline of him on the other side, his legs pulled up, arms wrapped around them, chin on his knees.
"There's only one office, so you shouldn't get too lost, but I'm Harry Hart. Father Harry Hart."
"Uh… Eggsy. S'my name."
"Eggsy? That's a lovely name. Very unique." Harry actually hears the other man scoff at that.
"'Unique'. Yeah, sure. I'll tell you my real name if we become mates." Eggsy laughs again. Imagine a non-religious chav being pals with a Catholic priest. "I… Might take you up on your offer, yeah? Might go to your office maybe. Like, probably not… Tomorrow or nothing… But, like… Soon, yeah?"
"Soon, yes. I look forwards to seeing you. Eggsy."
"You too…" The man leaves without another word. As he walks out the church, hands shoved in his tracksuit bottoms, he actually does feel better about himself. More secure. He has no idea what Father Hart looks like, and Father Hart has no idea what he looks like, but Eggsy loves the way he talks. He's posh, yeah, but his voice is so calming. He could listen to him talk for hours and hours about stupid shit. That man could narrate an audiobook on the digestive process of cows from start to finish and Eggsy would hang on to every word. Actually, Eggsy would sit and listen to him read the Bible from cover to cover and turn into a devout Christian after. Anyways…
Eggsy felt a lot more secure in himself. And he definitely would take Harry up on that offer. Maybe he'd even dress nice for a trip to his office. Eggsy didn't know yet. All he did know was that he was gonna get on with Father Hart.