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Judas had known better.
He knew to be discreet. He knew to hide things. He knew it wasn't something he could slip on. Yet he did anyway.
Rain combined with panic and made it nearly impossible to see as he desperately searched for the man he had been with among the crowd, his temporary lover who could never really have his heart. (It already belonged to another man, you see, one Judas knew would never accept it.) He felt the cracks of his heart deepen as he found nothing, no one. He knew he wouldn't be there, but he still didn't want to die alone, with only hateful faces staring back at him.
They had grabbed Judas first, laying hands on him and yanking him away as he gasped in surprise and gut-churning fear. It had only been an embrace, a kiss- with Judas' lips pushed softly to his lover's as their bodies pressed against each other. It had still been enough for them to take insult. His lover had taken Judas' shock as a warning and fled quicker than they could grab him, leaving only Judas to be the target of their rage and disgust.
Judas couldn't blame him.
Judas still had no idea how they had been discovered.
They had torn at his clothes and yanked at his hair, dragging and pushing him out into the open until he had stumbled to the ground. His knees sunk into the wet earth, and he nearly lost his balance as his hands slid against the mud. All the while, they cried out what he was, what he had done. It didn't take long for more people to join in with the jeers and accusations. He glanced frantically around, but they were surrounding him. There was to be no escape.
"A shameful man of Sodom," one of them spat at him as a hand cracked against his cheek, forcing a cry to rip from him as he fell to the side. "An abhorrent man, undeserving of life! An abomination in the eyes of God!"
There were shouts of agreeance.
"No, please," Judas pled, voice nearly unintelligible from the way he was shaking. He whimpered as their shouts only got louder, more enraged. He knew he must be a sight- torn and dirty with so much fright etched into his features. He had never felt more vulnerable, surrounded by all of these people. Panic thumped in his chest.
"Please," he managed to get out past the lump in his throat, begging the man who had torn his shirt at his shoulder. Judas had quickly identified him as the ringleader. He stared up at him, clasping his hands together as he pled for mercy. He never was the type to beg for anything, but his fear was spiking painfully in his chest, and he was so desperate. And afraid. He didn't want to die. Not now, not for this. "Please, forgive me. I'm sorry."
"You will be," the man murmured down at him with a snarl before returning his attention to the crowds that were gathering. He spat hateful rhetorics that only spurred them all on as their eyes shone with pure and utter hatred. They didn't even know him. Yet they had already decided they despised him.
And for what?
Rain soaked down his back, chilling him to the bone. He was trembling so hard, his teeth were chattering together. He could feel sobs tightening his throat, forcing him to gasp and gulp for air as his chest heaved. Soon he wouldn't have any breath left. His blood would stain the streets, and they would spit and mock at his bruised, battered corpse. He had already seen that some of them had stones in their hands. He brought a hand to his chest as his fear doubled at that fact. His breath was already decided to leave him as his chest sharply refused to let him inhale. It was a thick, burning feeling, and he could feel his tears begin to fall, trailing down his cheeks in thin lines.
His tears only seemed to prompt them on. As he choked on cries, the first stone came flying. Judas shrieked as he moved to shield himself, his arm flying up to protect his face and head. He let out another pained, moaned sound as it struck right below his hand, sending an aching throb throughout the entirety of it. The next one hit him in the side. After that, they just kept flying. He curled in on himself, trying to protect himself the best he could, even if his fate would be inevitable in the end. He kept letting out horrible, guttural groans of pain as strike after strike came.
"Judas!" A horrified cry ripped through the crowd, and he was almost sure he had imagined it. There was no possible way. No one knew where he was. He had purposefully come here to be cautious, so no one could possibly find him-
"Judas, no!"
He couldn't stop himself from unfurling, his head ripping away from his arm at the sound of her.
It couldn't possibly be her.
But Mary was shouldering through the crowd, calling his name with tears streaking down her face. She dashed to him, ignoring the way the crowd cursed at her, too. She slipped against the ground as she stooped down to him, shielding his body with her own as she wrapped her arms around him. He let out a stunned, pained breath as his first initial instinct forced him to grasp back at her. He was sure she could feel the pounding of his heart against her own, feel his wet face against her neck, smell his sweat and fear. He whimpered, and he was just so glad that if he were to die, at least he got this simple moment of comfort. It would have been his only request. The thought forced his logic to return.
The stones might have stopped for a moment out of the crowd's surprise, but they wouldn't for long.
He tore away.
"Mary," his voice grated roughly as he went to weakly push her away, his own tears coming faster. "Mary, you have to go. They'll hurt you. They don't care. You can't defend me. They'll-"
"We're not leaving you here," Mary argued, her voice coming strong and scared.
We?
Judas tore his gaze away from her only to be met with the others pushing their way through as well. They didn't flock to him as Mary did, but they were there.
And they were scared, too.
Judas felt a sob topple from his lips when he finally found him among the faces. He was just as beautiful as always, even if his hair was soaked and sticking to his face, even if he wasn't smiling, even if his breath was coming faster than it should. Judas changed his mind. He didn't want a bit of comfort to be his last request.
If he were to die, he would want to do so looking at that face.
Jesus' eyes were fixed on him. They were full of heartbreak and despair as he stepped forward, his sights never leaving Judas' water-soaked face. Although it was hard to hear over the crowds, he saw him mouth his name. Then, he was spinning on his heel.
"Stop this. He is a moral man," Jesus spoke loudly, directly to the crowd, extending a hand in Judas' direction. "What has he possibly done?"
"He's a homosexual!"
Judas cringed, ducking his head as he turned his face away from the others. He knew they would change their mind now. They would feel the disgust creep into them, too, and they would have to turn away from him. They would allow the crowds to do what they craved. They would understand. Finally, they would understand.
Judas clenched his eyes shut. He couldn't bare to see it happen.
"Yes. And?"
Judas' eyes flew open, even his head wrenching in surprise in Jesus' direction. It was the only thing Jesus said. The crowd silenced for a moment before the uproars began again. This time it wasn't only Judas' head they called for. Judas whimpered, and Mary only held him tighter.
"There is no wrong in love!" Jesus shouted over them. "Love can never be immoral. Don't you see? Don't you see that your hatred is the only true crime against God here?"
"He's disgusting!"
"He isn't!" Jesus shot back quickly. "He is a good man. A good man who only cares for the good of our people and the good of this country. Yet you think you can stand and accuse him of being something he could never be. He could never be abhorrent or vile. He will never be seen as anything other than the heart he has. His heart is pure."
Judas inhaled sharply, his hands shaking as he clung harder to Mary. She pressed her lips to the top of his hair, rubbing a soothing hand up his arm.
"More than yours!" Jesus spat, his anger growing more fervent as the crowd went on. "More than all of yours!"
Peter was moving now, shedding his outer robe, rushing forward to join them and wrap it around Judas' trembling shoulders despite the protests. He covered Judas the best he could, murmuring apologies as he brushed against bruising flesh.
"You might as well disperse," James spoke up. Judas couldn't see him, but he could hear the strength of his voice. "You're not touching him."
"He shouldn't have to beg for his life from you as if you were God," Andrew expressed venomously, James' words apparently breaking the dam of the rest of the apostles.
"Is murder not one of the most horrible sins there is?"
"Who are you to decide who lives and who dies?"
"You're okay," Mary mumbled, pulling him close to her chest. He shuddered uncontrollably against her, and Peter's hand slipped up to caress his cheek. He was blocking him from the crowds now, too. "You're okay. See? We've got you."
And a part of him couldn't believe it. A part of him couldn't believe that they were fighting for him, that they were sparing his life. He stared forward with widened, scared eyes.
"There is nothing to be done here," Jesus spoke again. "You'll leave him. He has committed no crime. Not against God, not against you, not against anyone."
For once, there was silence in the street. Judas could only hear his own rapid breath.
"Go home," Jesus breathed to them, and maybe Judas should start believing in his miracles more. Because one by one, the crowd began to dissipate. The lead stood for a moment longer, glaring at Judas, his jaw clenched and his fist wrapped around a stone until his knuckles turned white. But with an angry twitch on his lips, he dropped the stone and turned away from them. The only people left were the apostles.
"Judas," Jesus breathed as soon as they were all gone, shifting and rushing to his side. "Oh, Judas. Is anything broken? Can you breathe?"
He couldn't do anything but shake and stare.
There was no possible way all of this just happened. The world felt as if it were spinning in a completely opposite direction. He should have died. He was meant to die.
They had saved him.
He didn't even think they liked him.
He slowly untangled himself from the shields that were Peter and Mary, his breath strained as he used shaking arms to push himself up. He didn't like being on the ground. He didn't like being vulnerable. He didn't like that they knew his worst secret now.
And they had been willing to pay the price of it with him anyway.
He let out a grunt as his legs buckled from a pang he hadn't expected as he stood.
"Here," Simon spoke gently as he lurched to help him. Judas winced, biting at his lip as he felt the ache in his torso, in his legs, in his arms.
"It's okay," Judas whispered, his voice still nothing more than a scared rasp as he pulled away from the touch. "It's fine. I'm-
Except he really wasn't, and everything hurt and ached terribly.
Simon wasn't the one who caught him this time.
Judas stumbled right into Jesus' arms.
"Sorry," Judas whispered, but Jesus was shaking his head, supporting him. Judas' face crumbled as the sobs finally came. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
His head fell to Jesus' shoulder as he wailed, letting all of the fear and panic and hurt out through the sounds. Jesus' arms wrapped around him tightly, careful to avoid holding him too tightly in the wrong places.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. Absolutely nothing. You have done no wrong," Jesus' own words broke. "I promise it, Judas. You didn't do anything."
Judas only sobbed harder.
Jesus' hand curled in his hair as he whispered more soothing words against his ear. Then, he pressed a kiss to the side of his head.
He pulled away once Judas' breathing had calmed and once his sobs tapered off into soft cries. He gave Judas the sweetest and gentlest of smiles.
Judas decided he would have died a million times over just to get to see it.
He wasn't so sure how the love he felt for this man could ever be seen as anything but divine.
He didn't see how loving him could ever be wrong.