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The girl mumbles feverishly in her mother’s arms. Her little body twists and turns, like a fragile boat struggling in a tempest, sweat covering her face. A deep sadness filled Jesus’ heart as soon as the mother arrived with her daughter, wrapped in blankets in her arms. She is desperate but composed, and her tears cannot extinguish the strong fire burning in her eyes.
He carefully strokes the little girl’s hair, pushing a few strands from her face, and takes her hand, squeezing it softly. The crowd around him has only started to grow bigger recently, but the amount of suffering people who come to him has already left marks on his heart. Jesus never thought the mission was going to be easy in any way, even from the start, and everyone around him is dear to his heart, but sometimes he feels alone and tired. However, he knows. He knows that he has to be strong for everyone, and he is not enough right now. He is not here for himself.
Jesus directs his attention back to the suffering girl. The temperature starts to drop underneath his palms, and the rhythm of the child’s breathing becomes more peaceful. He lets out a relieved and rejoiced sigh and smiles at the mother. She gasps as she looks at him with utter disbelief and gratitude. Your daughter should wake up tomorrow morning, he says to her and smiles. She leans down and puts her forehead against her daughter’s, rubbing them together. A smile widens on her exhausted face like a bright star shooting across the night sky. The girl’s furrowed brows are gradually smoothed out by the tenderness, and he hopes she is dreaming about playing in a garden somewhere, healthy and happy.
In the back of his mind is an oasis. He sees his mother, her blue shawl flaps in the wind. He knows the texture and the smell of cinnamon on it vividly. It has been in her possession since he was a child, and it is now old and worn, but nevertheless one of the warmest and most comforting things. She opens her arms with a smile and hugs him tightly, ruffling his hair lovingly. He puts his head on her shoulder, holding back tears because he knows she asks nothing of him, even if they know they will never see each other again. It would be better if they could say goodbye when their spirits are still high, when pain and fear have not eroded their hearts. In a blink of time she vanishes with the wind, and in front of his eyes are the daughter and the mother in God’s grace.
The mother is now thanking him incoherently, and he only smiles and tells her seeing them safe and sound is more than he could ask for. He pulls both of them into an embrace. A comfortable heat warms his body. When she is about to walk away, with a new life ahead of her, he catches Judas in the corner of his eye.
Judas leans against a wall nonchalantly as is his usual habit, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Their eyes meet, and he wonders what Judas’ observing eyes see in him. Jesus is used to having all kinds of eyes around him, but sometimes he feels too vulnerable under Judas’ gaze, one that seems to say I know more about you than you know yourself. That is not to say Jesus dislikes it. He just knows if he engages with those feelings, the mental fortress that holds him together now will tumble down, and he would not be able to go on anymore.
It seems like he has known Judas for forever now, after all the hours of chats, discussions, and debates that are behind them. In the year and a half they have been together, Judas has now occupied a special space in the group and, slightly perplexing to Jesus, in his mind. Even if Judas can sometimes be reserved and distant, and their relationship can be frustratingly hot and cold and confusing, Judas always seems to find a way to be there when Jesus needs someone. Judas would be the first one to shield him and hold him close, so close he could feel his heartbeat and breathing, when Roman soldiers attempt to surround and threaten them. However, he always shies away from him afterwards, and he can feel a haunting sorrow arise in him watching Judas having hands in his pockets as he walks away. A helplessness plagues him. Judas often tries to advise and comfort him despite his own uneasiness sometimes, but he never seems to be able to requite it adequately.
Once and again Jesus dreams of a vast, unforgiving desert. The sand is red and hot. His Father cannot be seen, his mother does not belong here, and John is somewhere he does not know. Judas’ figure appears on the horizon, as lonely as his, the outline of him blurry in the scorching sunlight. He calls out to him, or maybe he does not. He really has no way of knowing. He starts walking towards Judas, leaving a long trail behind him. His steps get increasingly faster, and grains of sand sink in between his toes. Judas does not move, but in Jesus’ heart he knows if he does not hurry Judas will be swallowed by the sand. The desert is merciless. Now he is close enough to see his eyes, those fiery and cold eyes. He reaches a hand out, but Judas still does not move, only staring at him with an unreadable expression. It is not a joyful one, that is the only thing he knows for sure. Dread and panic sprout like monstrous vines and entangle his feverishly beating heart. Suddenly Judas turns and the next moment he is gone, as if he has never existed, never even casted a glance on him. No. Please don’t leave me! He starts screaming without sound. Winds howl furiously, blowing sand all around him.
When he is startled awake in the middle of the night by the dream, his first thought is always Judas, never the fact that he can barely breathe or the sweat clinging to his skin. If they are not sleeping under a roof, it is easier for him to immediately get up quietly and check on Judas. He would clutch his shirt at the chest unconsciously, making sure his wildly beating heart does not wake Judas up. Other times he loses sleep because he cannot know if Judas is still there, but is eventually comforted to see him at breakfast. Only for a few times, he waits for Judas to finish having breakfast and before walking up to him and asking if he can give him a hug. The first time Judas seemed taken aback by his request, and he could feel his lips quivering. Judas did not like to be touched and was not used to it when they first met, and even now he never seems to be able to figure out what to do. He usually does not initiate anything if Judas does not touch him first. Why me? Judas looked down at the ground and slowly brought his eyes to the other apostles. If you don’t feel comfortable it’s alright. He swallowed and moved his gaze away from Judas’ face. He knows what Judas is thinking, but he does not know how to explain it so it does not come out wrong. No it’s not… I… Judas paused and his fingers twitched nervously. You can hug me if you like. I don’t mind. He felt his heart skipt a little, and guilt tasted bitter in his mouth. They stood awkwardly there for a few moments, and Jesus did not know what to do, but in the end he went for it, before an apostle could call for him first. It was rather short, but he never forgot how Judas’ leather jacket was pressed against him, and how his hands were placed hesitantly and lightly on his back. He exhaled softly and let him go. Thank you. He remembered saying and was only able to take a quick glance at Judas’ face before looking back at the other apostles, some still chatting and eating and some cleaning up. It was too brief for him to comprehend Judas’ expression. He walked away and did not allow himself to glance back at Judas.
The second time Judas glanced at him fully aware of his intention but also with deep bewilderment. I thought I did terribly and you wouldn't come back again. Judas smiled mockingly. It was alright, really, Jesus replied, but he knew Judas was too skeptical and insecured to believe him. Judas just stood there, waiting for him to move. It felt like forever in between reaching his arms out and feeling the warmth of Judas against his body again, being reassured that he was still there, that he had not been lost. The third time they were both silent, and Judas was looking at him like a lost child, and he did not know why it hurt. He slipped his arms around him and closed his eyes. Judas’ warm hand slid down his shoulder blade, and Jesus let a gasp escape him carelessly. Judas exhaled shakily and started backing away in a panic, but he grabbed onto his body harder, selfishly. Will you hold me longer? Will you put your fingers in my hair? He thought frantically but bit back those words so hard his throat hurt. He was afraid to look at Judas afterwards. I’m sorry. That was rude. He saw Judas raising a hand in response immediately but pulled back before reaching his arm. You don’t have to be, I didn’t mind. Liar. He couldn’t help but be mad at himself. He was not supposed to do this, not supposed to ask Judas to provide emotional comfort while hiding everything. Judas is his follower, his friend, but Jesus could not open his heart too deeply because he is going to die too soon.
He does not claim to understand Judas, but with their relationship he likes to believe they already have a lot of care for each other. It would be unfair for Judas to take the emotional toll. The sacrificial lamb could not serve himself. But if he could only ask for one thing, he desperately wants to know why Judas is always there in the desert of his dream, just like how desperately he clung to the embrace to selfishly savour the warmth, how desperately he is pleading for him to not leave him.
He can never tell Judas about the dream. He knows Judas is such a sensitive person no matter how hard he pretends to be nonchalant, and if he knows about the dream it will disturb him to no end. I will never leave you. Would Judas speak in a solemn and heart broken tone and take his hand? The mere thought of it sends shivers down his spine. He could suffer alone, and that is enough. He is used to being himself by now.
The sun is sinking down under the horizon, tinting everything orange. It is almost time for them to regroup and have supper. There are suddenly too many thoughts running in Jesus’ head, and he does not know why. Judas starts walking towards him, and he greets him with the best smile he can. He can still be normal in front of him after all. He will be alright. They will be alright. However, Judas’ gaze shifts and stops abruptly. Unconsciously he follows the direction of Judas’ gaze and sees a young man approaching him. He holds his hands to receive him.
A whole day of preaching and blessing has worn him down, but the young man’s politeness and wittiness manage to put a genuine smile on his face. In between tragedies and healings, it always delights him to hear about a hard working family living a simple and good life, so when the young man asks for a kiss as a blessing, he is more than happy to do so. Holding the man’s face in between his hands, he lands a kiss on his forehead. When Jesus lifts his head up, in his peripheral view he once again catches Judas. He has not moved and Jesus is sure he has been watching them the whole time. Judas’ gaze grows more intense, already piercing Jesus’ thoughts even before the young man leaves. There is a stinging bitterness in his eyes.
He suddenly remembers an argument they had before. You are letting them take advantage of you. Judas’ grip on his wrist was so hard it made him frown, but he was not backing down. That doesn't mean you have the right to hurt him. He protested. If I didn’t punch him then he would have punched you first. Then let him. He clenched his jaw, and he did not think it was possible for Judas to grip him even harder. Do you really want to get hurt that badly? He felt his mouth hanging open but no words came out. Judas’ tone was painful and grief stricken, but his eyes were what left him speechless. The anger had not completely left him, but he knew those eyes. He knew them too well. Those were the eyes of a sacrificial lamb. Judas let go of his arm in a swing and turned to leave. Before he could recover enough and gather himself to reply again, Judas was not there anymore. He felt dread in the pit of his stomach, and his legs were weak. Two contradictory thoughts plagued him. Jesus would never want Judas to sacrifice any part of himself for him as a result of them getting too close, and Judas has already gone out of his way for him many times. But he also could not endure the thought of Judas leaving and never coming back. Judas had always been different from the others, and regrets flooded Jesus. But when supper came, Judas was there. He hid all the bursting emotions in his chest and apologized.
He is asking too much of Judas, and he would not be completely surprised if one day the line is crossed and Judas no longer wants to stay. He just could not begin to imagine the distress and the gaping hole it would leave in his heart. Judas does not walk any closer to him, and he suddenly does not know how to face him. Before he can gather his thoughts, he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to see Peter smiling at him. Simon follows close by to tell him supper is ready. He glances back at Judas’ direction, but he has already walked away.
In the end he leaves with Peter and Simon because Judas would likely be at supper anyway, and he needs some time to be able to think straight. Peter reports to him what the apostles were doing in the village today, while Simon amuses them about today’s supper menu. Naturally, he puts a hand on Peter’s face as an affectionate gesture, but his mind wanders. Maybe he has gotten this all wrong.
It is not uncommon for Jesus to be asked for kisses, and many of his followers and people who have come to ask for help have received a kiss from him. He is quite sure he has given kisses to all the apostles. All except for Judas. He is just realizing it very late.
Does he want to be kissed but is too afraid to ask? He remembers his piercing eyes from earlier and would rather believe this is true. This is something he can easily give. Giving is what he is good at, what he is here for, and asking is what he would not do anymore. He desperately wants to believe a kiss will fix everything . He knows how naive this sounds, but he cannot help but feel guilty about the dream, about wanting to ask more of what Judas has already given him.
All through supper Jesus’ mind is somewhere else. Judas only sits beside him occasionally, and today he is where he usually prefers, somewhere on the outside of the crowd. Sometimes he struggles to understand Judas. He is still so close but so far away all the time. But there is one thing that has not changed from the start, and his heart grows heavy with the weight of the whole world. Judas has always been planting wants in his head.
Around a year ago, the day he heard about John’s death, he had known Judas for a few months. They were all sleeping around a huge tree. He wrapped himself in blankets, and in the middle of the restless night he could no longer compose himself.
If you are going somewhere I’ll go with you. A voice startled him, and he tried his best to search through the darkness until he picked up some movements. It was Judas. He stood there in silence and hesitation for a few moments. The voice came again. I shouldn’t have said anything. Please go. I won’t say anything to the others. He clutched the blanket tighter around himself, trying to blink back tears. I don’t want to trouble you. He was in shambles and could not let anyone see him in this state, but he wanted a companion in this disquieting and deathly night so badly. …If that’s what you are worried about, you didn’t ask me to do anything. I’m volunteering to go with you. …But why? The question slipped through, and he was so sure of the answer that he bit his lips. Judas was silent for sometime. He could hear the crickets chirp, the shuffling of fabrics, and the peaceful breathing of the apostles. Because insomnia makes people lonely. His heart skipped a beat at the answer.
They walked slowly in the dark, Judas ahead of him, sometimes telling him to be careful not to trip over a tree root on the ground. Eventually they sat by a small river nearby. He did not remember much of how they got there, but by the time they were there he was already feverishly distressed. He probably said many things, too many things. John, his childhood, his mother, his fears. The gate that kept everything neatly contained was overflowed with emotions. He just wanted to grieve like everyone else, letting the bursting agony out from his chest. Judas inched closer as he got more frantic, blurting out words half choked in his throat that did not make sense. Then he felt a careful, unsure hand landing on his back and he fell silent right then. Who knew how long he had been talking. Judas retrieved his hand after some silence, awkwardly placing it back by his side. If I were someone like you, I would have something comforting to say, but all you got is me. He shook his head and took Judas’ hand, recklessly neglecting that he did not like to be touched. Judas’ fingers twitched a little, but he did not pull away. No, you are doing more than I could ask for. But he does not know how to convince Judas now still, that he is enough, more than enough. He heard shifting in the dark, but Judas never replied. Suddenly exhaustion overcame him, and he dozed off while his eyes ached. Everything was finally quiet for a few moments. When he woke up, he woke up on Judas’ shoulder. Rays of sunlight peeked through foliage, and the shadow and light danced together on the ground so lovingly. Then the dawn of the day brought some sense back to Jesus. He pulled himself away from Judas in sudden realization, which also startled Judas in the process. Judas did not like physical touches, and he was sleeping on his shoulder and holding his hand for hours through the night. He opened his mouth but no words came out. He’s going to take this the wrong way. He could feel the sweat slowly gathering on his back as his heart beat faster. Jesus. He looked up suddenly and met Judas’ eyes. There was no annoyance or judgement, but a tiredness that painfully informed him that Judas stayed awake all night for him. You won’t die like him. He exhaled shakily, the soreness at the back of his throat made it hard to breathe. The morning sun shone on Judas’ eyes, and he could see the emerald green in them. They were very beautiful. He reached a hand out towards his face, but Judas shied away. He felt greedy. How could he ask more of him then?
The day went on like normal, as if nothing had ever happened. They never spoke of it again. But in the depth of Jesus’ heart, a seed was planted. He was not supposed to wish for the slightest possibility of it, even the mere thought of it made him ashamed, but he wanted to live.
Jesus drank slightly more wine than usual, feeling the dazing heat running through his blood. He could not fully grasp the tension in his body. Judas is sitting by himself by a small fire after supper, the orange flame casting an intense shadow behind him. A half empty bottle of wine stands beside his feet. Judas shoots a short glimpse at him as he walks towards him and shuffles slightly to the left to give him space at the fire. He sits down beside him and extends his arms towards fire, watching the warm, soft light surround each of his fingers. His hands have become smoother after he stops practicing carpentry. He stares and stares, and Judas says nothing.
“Judas.”
The man he named sighs. He waits for a little bit to see if a reply would come.
“... Would you like to be kissed?”
Judas tenses up his shoulders like a startled cat, and Jesus already has regrets of being too blunt. He does not have the courage to turn to look at Judas yet, but somehow he can see Judas’ eyes darting around, desperately trying to come up with something to say.
“... What are you talking about?”
Judas’ tone is sharp. Jesus takes a deep breath. He does not know why he is the one who is nervous.
“I was just thinking. I have given everyone else kisses of blessing, but not you.” Because I think you are too afraid to ask. He does not say it out loud because it would only get Judas’ defense up. Regardless, what he said still sounded completely out of nowhere, but there is no going back.
Judas sighs again, louder this time. Jesus shoots a quick glance to the left, and Judas has one palm pressed against his temple.
“I thought you were coming to scold me.” But this is worse. He could hear Judas mutter under his breath.
“You never really ask for my blessings, and I don’t know how to give them to you.” He swallows nervously, every moment is a stab into his heart. “I don’t want to just touch you when you don’t like it.”
“I don’t… I don’t dislike your touch if that’s what you think. I’m just still not used to it. In public especially.”
Their bodies are tilted ever so slightly that their eyes finally meet in an uncertain gaze, so fragile a breeze can break it. His breathing slows down a little, but he cannot grasp the contemplation and soreness in Judas’ eyes. He wonders what Judas sees in him to give him such an expression, but he knows he does not want Judas to be sad.
“Your touch...” An instant apprehension arises on Judas’ face, and he turns away shaking his head.
“I want to know what’s troubling you. I want to know what you want… so I can repay you for all the things you have done for me.” Jesus blurts out. Maybe he is crossing the line, but he does not want to give up. He has become so adamant about this that he does not even realize that he has never spoken in this way with any of the other apostles.
The fire makes a cracking sound. Both of his hands are clutching his robe. Judas is staring straight into the flame, and the silence is becoming more and more agonizing with every passing second.
“Your touch.” Judas finally repeats, licking his lips. “It’s very warm and gentle. It’s more than I deserve. Don’t waste it on me. ”
“... Judas.” He shakes his head, the silhouette of Judas’ profile burning into his eyes. He can cure a disease by touching the inflicted patient, but is there really nothing he can do for him? “Please don’t say such things.”
“But,” Judas’ eyes are still fixated on the flame, and he can feel the fire starting to burn both of them. “You could waste just one kiss on me if that’s what you wish.”
Jesus wants to protest. Will you not even let me just give you a simple blessing, which is what you deserve at the very least? But he knows there is no use. Words fly through his head, instead he only nods painfully.
He shifts closer to Judas, who closes his eyes almost as soon as he approaches, like something unthinkable is going to befall on him. His hand finds its way to Judas’ hand and lays softly on top, and Judas notably stiffens under him, his eyelashes fluttering nervously in the light. His other hand rests on Judas’ shoulder, stroking it and trying to sooth out the tension in him. All the memories of his body pressed against Judas’ flood back into his mind, and he tries his best to suppress them, to not to think about the warm touch on his shoulder blade that lingered in his mind for far too long. But he knows when his lips are on Judas’ cheek, the closeness of Judas’ hot breath, the way he swallows with a small whimper, the solace and anguish that fill his heart simultaneously, will all stay on his mind even longer. He does not know how long the kiss has lasted, but he hopes it is long enough for Judas to reconsider himself at least momentarily, he is deserving of every blessing and happiness coming to him.
Jesus distances himself away slightly, and Judas slowly opens his eyes like waking up from a long slumber. He lets out a rather weak smile, although Judas is not looking, eyes darting in between their hands.
“Thank you.” Judas whispers, also letting out a weak smile, shooting a brief glance at him before turning back to the fire.
None of them move. Jesus knows he should but he does not. He has given Judas the kiss, and all that is done cannot be changed. Yet he continues to sit there in silence with him, staring at the flame intently, as if trying to figure out what Judas is looking at. He can hear Judas picking up the bottle and taking a drink, which almost makes him feel like he needs some more wine too.
“Jesus.”
“Yes?” He is anticipating Judas asking him to leave. After all he only lingers on to disturb his peace.
“Would you like to be kissed too?”
Something explodes in Jesus’ head and he can feel all the nerves tingling in his body. He inhales sharply and does not know how to let the breath out. No. No. This is not how he is supposed to react. He remembers his mother landing loving, sweet kisses in his hair, on his forehead, on his cheeks. It has been two years since he last saw her and he misses her terribly. The image of her holding both of his hands saying farewell is still too vivid in his mind. But this is different. This cannot be more different. Now he is imagining what it would feel like if Judas had kissed him. His lips that have spoken many sharp words against his skin-
“Forgive me for my drunken rant. I’m going to go r...”
His hand firmly circles Judas’ wrist before he can even think about doing so. Judas is already standing and silently attempts to take another step, but he pulls on his wrist. Stop. You can still let him go. He is about to break down when Judas sits back down, perhaps defeatedly. He is going to regret it later.
“How could I ever ask you to do something like this?” He sinks his head into his palms, whispering brokenly, talking more to himself than Judas. Until this moment, he has not realized how long he has not been kissed, and how badly he craves it. It makes him shiver to think that this is something he wants. He is always touching everyone and happily so, pressing down his own desire to be on the receiving end, because he is no longer just the young man with a big heart in his mother’s eyes.
“You didn’t ask me anything. I was the one who brought it up.” He is too afraid to look up at Judas and is unable to tell the emotions in his tone. “I’m more surprised… you’d even remotely consider someone like me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He blurts out. “But I can’t. I’ve already asked so much of you! I can’t ask anyone to take my burden for me.”
Jesus bends forward in frustration, breathing more heavily. He can hear Judas letting out a sign and shifting in his seat.
“You’re not going to last like this. More and more people are going to come to you every day.” The intensity in Judas’ tone increases, and he is closer than before. “Did you mean it when you asked what I wanted?”
He lifts his head up slightly from his palms. Exhaustion is invading every fibre of his body.
“Yes, of course.”
“What I want is for you to be safe and happy.”
The fire flickers. He looks up. In the light he sees the evasive green in Judas’ eyes again, or maybe he is simply delirious, because he wants to see it again so badly. It reminds him of an oasis. Tears fill up in his eyes and blur his vision.
Judas leans in, placing a hand on his right cheek. Jesus caresses the hand on his face and feels Judas’ warm breath with the scent of sweet wine landing on his skin. He closes his eyes as the warmth draws closer. When Judas’ lips touch his left cheek, he lets out a soft, satisfied, but guilty gasp. Heat rises up to his cheeks. He feels flushed, and he is sure Judas can feel it too. There is nothing wrong with wanting. You are human too. Judas would tell him. He melts into his touch, broken and whole. Judas’s stubble feels rough against his skin, his thumb traces ever so slightly down his cheek, their shoulders brush together.
He holds onto Judas’ hand when he draws back from what seems like an eternity, but not far enough so they are still able to feel each other’s breath. He feels dazed and breathless, unconsciously tracing his fingers on the back of Judas’ hand, prompting a startled reaction from him. But there is no sign of judgement or blame in Judas’ eyes, only something so genuine and deep that he cannot decipher. His gaze moves down to his lips that moments ago are still pressed against his cheek. He starts fantasizing about what Judas’ lips would taste like when they are on his own. Maybe they taste like rich honey dripped on freshly baked bread, like finely aged grape wine, or like the biggest, most vibrant pomegranate from the basket. Perhaps Judas wouldn’t mind running his fingers through his hair after all, wouldn’t mind stroking his back, wouldn’t mind if he wraps his arms around his neck and presses him closer. He wants to tell Judas when he holds his face in both hands how much he misses his mother and he wants to go home. Judas. He always cares so much, too much, that perhaps he will find a way to take him home. Then he wants to kiss him more, and in between kisses, he wants to tell him about the dream, to ask him to stay because he does not want to die alone. He does not want to die at all. Maybe Judas will tell him he will never leave, so he never has to feel lonely. He wants to ask. Judas. Do you want me too? Do you-
“Simon is calling you.”
“…What?”
“Simon is calling you.”
Jesus lowers his head and closes his eyes tightly. His heart is beating so wildly it makes him dizzy.
“Is he?”
“Yes.” Judas’ tone is calmer than still water, and he does not know how to react to it. He does not know what Judas saw when all the shameful thoughts were running through his head.
Senses start returning to him and he can once again feel the cool night air blowing on his face. He is furiously fighting back his tears. He accomplished nothing and recklessly let his desire take hold of him and asked Judas for comfort.
“I’m sorry.”
“Listen.” Judas lets out a long sigh, the facade of his calmness twists and breaks. Guilt and shame are growing stronger every second inside him. “I’m asking you to join them because I only bring you worries and sadness.”
“You know it’s not true!” He squeezes Judas’ hand hard, raising his voice in protest. He should not have apologized, but it breaks him to not to.
“You’ll be happier there, and they’ll have everything provided without you asking.”
He knows this argument is going nowhere, but it does not change how much it hurts. They are both too stubborn.
“Good night. I’ll be where you need me.” He can feel his lips quivering with Judas’ every word, remembering Judas’ sleeping face when he checked on him during the night after he got woken up by the nightmare. He looked so peaceful, something so rare to see when he is awake and thinking. Slowly, Judas’ hand slides from his palm. Their fingertips brush against each other one last time.
He walks towards the group, hands trembling on the sides. He squeezes out a smile for Simon. The night passes by like a blur.
Jesus is in the desert again. He starts running towards Judas even more frantically than usual. Judas. Judas! This time he surely calls out to him. The sand threatens to bury him at any moment, but he keeps running. He reaches a hand out, and Judas still does not move, but this time he does not turn and disappear. Please don’t leave me! He shouts desperately. This time Judas takes him into his arms and kisses him. He gasps and melts into him. Judas does taste like honey dripped on bread, like aged wine, like a vibrant pomegranate. Judas does put his hand in his hair and caresses his back, and he does let him wrap his arms around his neck. He does kiss Judas more and makes him whimper a little, and tells him he does not want to die alone. Judas does tell him he will never leave. But he also tells Judas something else. I will find a way to save you. Yes. Judas replies in a whisper. Yes. He will wake up tomorrow knowing he will die at the cross in a year. He will be the Jesus Christ everyone wishes for. He will never stray from his mission. But at least tonight in his dream, he is no one, nowhere, just happy in Judas’ arms.