Chapter Text
It had been a few days since you moved into Moralton after you got tired of the previous city you resided in. Very few jobs there had made you a whole lot of money, and the ones that did put unbearable stress on you. You had overheard a few weeks ago that Moralton wasn't like that; it was a fairly small town with some good-paying jobs. Not being someone to refuse an opportunity, you decided to get all of your belongings together and take residence there. It was a lengthy and grueling process, but you managed to persevere enough until the ordeal was done and you could finally relax.
But only a few moments after your arrival, you began to find out that Moralton was no ordinary town. In numerous places and conversations God was mentioned and revered. While God and Christianity weren’t things you didn’t know of, the degree of sheer devotion to God that Moralton showed was something that you had never seen before. Children were frequently taught that evolution was fake and that Darwin was a sociopath. Intense racism was also encouraged in the community. The entire town was even invited to weekly Sunday sermons by the pastor Reverend Putty. Not knowing previously that everyone here was a devout Protestant Christian, seeing all of this occur before your eyes heavily weirded you out. Unlike the rest of Moralton, you were never a believer in God, Allah, or any other divine beings. Unsurprisingly, this did not sit well with most other Moralton denizens. Whenever you tried to give proof of God's non-existence, the populace did nothing but scoff at you and pretend they never heard what you said. There were a few exceptions, such as the owner of the sex shop Buried Pleasures and some of the kids. But for the most part, you did not have a very good reputation in Moralton.
But among all the Protestant folk that resided there, one stood out from the others. People had always been talking about this boy named Orel. Even in a town like Moralton, his admiration for God was tremendous. Many absurd tales had been told about him and the things he did in the name of God. Such escapades included selling his own pee as an energy drink, raising the dead, and hurting himself every time he felt pleasure. With every story that concerned Orel, you only got more intrigued about him. Were these stories true? And if so, why was he like this? Where did these ideas come from? What was he like in person? These were all questions that you wanted to find out for yourself. You planned that you would talk to Orel and find out about all this stuff. All you had to do was wait for an opportunity. That opportunity would arrive shortly.
When you entered Le Fancy Sign, you were planning to just have a hot dog or two as a snack and then return home. But as you were looking for somewhere to sit, you noticed him. There was Orel sitting alongside a second boy with orange hair and a pinwheel hat. You just knew that you had to take this chance to get to know them. Yet as you walked to the seat across from the two boys, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. Orel had allegedly done many terrible things in his life, yet he was also regarded as one of the nicest figures in the whole town. Anything could happen when you met him, really. But your curiosity had already gotten the best of you. Not knowing what to expect, you sat across from Orel and the other kid. Orel noticed your arrival and greeted you with, "Oh, hi! I'm Orel! Nice to meet you! This is my best friend, Doughy!" He gently put his hand on Doughy's shoulder to indicate who he was talking about. Doughy let out a timid "Hello... " for you in response.
“My name’s Y/N. Nice to meet you too, I guess.”
"Y/N? Gosh, I sure do like the sound of that!"
"Mhm. How have things been for you lately?"
“Oh, I don’t know. Just trying to please God as best as I can!”
“Hasn’t that ever gotten you into trouble?”
“Yes, but Dad always sets me straight in his study!”
So the rumors were true. At least he had a loving father to help him know what’s actually good and bad.
“Glad to hear that,” you admitted as you took a lengthy sip from your glass of ice water. Orel nodded in agreement. Once you were done with quenching your thirst, you rested your head on your hands. “So, about this whole ‘God’ thing…”
“Yes?”
"Why do you believe in him?"
Orel shot a bewildered look at you. He hesitated for a bit before retorting, "Well, why not?" He let out a slight giggle afterwards. You, on the other hand, were not amused. "No, really. What makes you think he's real?"
"Everybody else says so, so why shouldn't I?"
"Well, what proof do they have of him?"
Orel started to look a little annoyed. "...proof? Why would anyone need proof of God? Nobody needs proof of me."
"I refuse to believe that there is a God, Satan, or Jesus from words alone."
Orel found your words quite distasteful, and his face reflected that accordingly. You added, "And I suppose Jesus was just some old bastard who died for nothing if this hellscape of a town is what we're left to live in."
Orel's eyes widened at your depreciation of his idol. Doughy gasped in shock at your remark, exclaiming, "How could you say that?! Don't you know much trouble tha-"
"Don't worry, Doughy. I've got it from here." Heeding Orel's assurance, Doughy shut himself up. Clearly not happy with you, Orel squinted with his eyes pointing in your direction. He balled up his left hand into a fist and started to slowly approach you. You steadily backed away, concerned that Orel was going to attack you. Doughy was visibly nervous during this, as if he knew something terrible was about to happen. But you weren’t exactly scared then. Orel was only a child. There was no way a 12-year-old could ever seriously harm you, right? A young adult wasn't going to be publicly humiliated by losing to a kid, right?
Right?