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Jason kneeled at the altar, rocking back and forth. His bruised needs didn't hurt anymore, or maybe he had just grown used to the pain of the stone floor as he fell before the golden statue of Jesus Christ. His head swam, his mouth opening to repent to their Savior but no words would come. It was only tears. The words of his sins caught in his throat and spun into a noose around his windpipe, choking the words back down into the pit of his stomach until they were like heavy chains on his stomach. He felt like he was going to vomit, but the noose around his throat kept it from bubbling up. He fell to his side, clutching at his shirt as if ripping it away would cleanse him and his sinful mind.
He could imagine that this is how he would die. Alone in a church, the judgemental eyes of Jesus staring down at his writhing body while his sins crushed him. He deserved this. His parents told him this is what people like him deserve. His vision was becoming fuzzy around the corners. He really was going to die wasn't he? His sins would kill him, and he'd burn even in death because that's what faggots deserve. He was disgusting. He had a girlfriend, and yet his eyes always found the same button eyed boy in any crowd. Even now he choked out his name as if he'd come to Jason's rescue.
His vision faded out as the Chapel doors creaked open, absently recognised a voice calling his name. Was it his name? Did he even deserve a name? Something is touching him. Why are they touching him? He's disgusting, why would they want to touch him? The stone floor is scraping his back. He's being dragged. Must be demons dragging his soul to hell for his damnation. He readied for the scorching heat and the wailing of damned souls like him, but he was met with the chill wood of one of the many pews. There was a warm hand over his heart. It felt like it was reaching inside him and melting away the chains and loosing the noose. Part of him almost wished it hadn't as he heaved to the side and puked up what little he had eaten that day, a bit of it splashing onto the boot of whoever held him.
He rested there limply in the person's hands. His head fell to rest on a bony knee while he tried to catch his breath and focus his blurred vision. Someone rubbed circles into his shoulder murmuring quiet reassurances while they wiped the bile away from his cheek. He rolled over until his face was pressed into their stomach, and he clutched at their shirt so hard he could hear the thread popping. He sobbed into them, whole body shaking with each sniffle that racked his body. The entire time that warm hand never left him, always grounding him while that voice pulled him out of his head everytime he started to spiral again until he was slumped against them, both mentally and physically exhausted.
He just wanted to curl up and cease to exist for a little while. He leaned into the person as he pulled himself up weakly only to see the same curly hair metalhead that sends his mind into such a sinful whirlpool. He could feel the tears pearling on his eyelashes and burning his eyes once more. Eddie must have noticed because he reached up to cup Jason's cheek, his warmth contrasting with the sharp chill of his rings. The words caught in his throat again, but they didn't strangle him this time. He just swallowed them back down and leaned into his palm. He didn't understand why he was being treated with such kindness, especially when he's never treated Eddie much better than a rodent, but, in that moment, he was never thankful for anything more.
Eddie slid and arm under his pits and helped him up, letting Jason lean most his weight against him. "Come on, I have a shower with your name on it and a bed if you're too tired to get home," he smiled, just as warm as the rest of him. The blonde couldn't understand, and at that moment, he wasn't going to try. He was just too tired. He nodded, letting Eddie bring him to his rickety old van and help him in. The drive to the old trailer was mostly silent aside from the tapping of rings against the steering wheel and a hummed song.
Part of Jason told him he was being a child when he held the back of his 'nemesis's' shirt while he followed and stood awkwardly at the doorway of his room while he dug out some surprisingly fresh clothes, though they still reeked of weed. Even so, in the seclusion of the bathroom, he snuffed his face into the sweater inhaling the stench of weed and cigarette smoke. He huffed as he set it down and stepped into the steaming water. It was too hot, his skin reddening while he tried to scrub himself out of it, as if that would ward away those immoral thoughts.
It didn't. They actually worsened when he slipped into the soft cotton sweater and sweatpants. The sweater hung off him a bit, likely because it was big on Eddie himself, and the pants were a bit long but we're snug enough. He stepped out of the bathroom and sought out the boy again. He was in the kitchen, squinting at a glass to check if it was clean. He looked over as he filled the glass with water, coffee colored eyes burning holes in his thoughts. He handed over the glass of water, "You should drink. Don't want you to get sick now, eh?"
Jason stayed silent, staring into the rippling surface before raising it to his lips with trembling hands and taking slow sips. He handed the glass back to the brunette. He shook his head when asked if he wanted another glass. He stepped forward a bit to rest his head on on Eddie's shoulder despite the screams and cries in the back of his mind begging him not to. He couldn't get himself to give a damn, in that moment. He was too tired to be good for a God who didn't listen. For once he just wanted for his mind to be silent, and he got that when Eddie corralled him to the bed, tucking him under the blankets before joining in after him. He was surrounded by Eddie. Slender arms, cheap soap, weed, and quiet cooing held him down to Earth as he fell into a finally dreamless sleep. He'd deal with the pain later. For now, dearest Father that art in heaven, you'll have to forgive him for his sins.