Archive of Our Own

The final vestiges of sickness had finally left Hezekiah behind when he was visited by his closest friend, Nathaniel Beale. He'd written to the man about how he accidentally slept through a storm in an open grave. While he was no longer bedridden, Hezekiah was grateful for the visit.

"Hezekiah, my friend," Nathaniel greeted with a worried but sincere smile, "I rushed here as soon as I read your letter. How have you been faring?"

Hezekiah smiled, touched by his friend's concern. "Do not stress yourself, I have recovered completely. You know how long it takes for letters to reach you, and with the time it takes to travel here, you needn't have made the effort."

Nathaniel, reassured by his energy that he was being truthful, pulled Hezekiah into a hug. His hands wrapped around him in a warm embrace, one between his shoulder blades and the other cupping the back of his head, pulling Hezekiah closer to rest his chin on Nathaniel's shoulder. Hezekiah felt his fingers brush through his short hair, and let himself sink into the hug, tucking his face into the man's shoulder.

"I missed you," Hezekiah whispered, allowing himself a moment of softness. No one would see them in the small house Hezekiah claimed as his own, the curtains constantly drawn over the windows.

Nathaniel laughed softly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long."

Nathaniel let him go, hands moving to rest on Hezekiah's shoulder. "I'm here now, so let us make the best of it. Tell me," he said, moving them to the dining table and sitting down, "how have you been doing? Aside from getting sick, that is."

Hezekiah sat across from Nathaniel. "I've been... better. Sleeping better."

Nathaniel frowned. "So you've told me. I must admit, your letters worried me. It is not good to sleep out in graves."

"Why not?" Hezekiah asked, agitated with the sudden turn of conversation, "It’s soothing. I’m sure if you tried you would understand."

Nathaniel's expression only grew more concerned. "Do you hear what you are saying? Hezekiah, if you've been drinking again–"

"I haven't touched alcohol the entire time I've been here, have more faith in me." Hezekiah's voice was tight, his hands curled into fists on the table.

Nathaniel softened, the crease between his eyebrows smoothing out slightly. "I do not mean to offend, please don't get upset. You must forgive me for worrying; it is only out of care."

His fists remained clenched, but his shoulders dropped. "I know. But you know how much sleep alludes me, and the slumber I find in graves is unmatched. I assure you that I do not wish to become a corpse in a grave, simply to lie in it and find rest for a little while. Is that truly so bad?"

"It's..." Nathaniel bit his lip. "It doesn't sound healthy. You've already gotten sick once, and it wouldn't do you good to come to rely on such a strange method to find sleep. Surely there is some other way for you to find peace in rest?"

Hezekiah shook his head. "What alternative could there be? No, my friend, the earth is my comfort. If it will soothe your concerns, I promise to be more careful in watching the weather."

Nathaniel did not look relieved, but he nodded nonetheless. "Very well," he said, adopting a smile that may have fooled anyone else, but not Hezekiah. It was a touch too wide and not enough teeth. "Let’s change the subject. It's been far too long since we've seen each other, we must catch up."

Hezekiah returned his smile, hoping a switch in conversation would cheer his friend up.

Night had fallen quicker than Hezekiah had gotten used to in his time bedridden. Talking with Nathaniel, the hours passed by in a blur of smiles and laughter. They'd talked until the sun had disappeared and the candles burned low, until their voices had become strained from use. Hezekiah offered Nathaniel the best he had in the house to eat, which was embarrassingly less than what the other man had given him when their roles were reversed.

Hezekiah had only one bed in his house, small as it was, and he didn't hesitate to offer it to Nathaniel. "Sleep on the bed, you're my guest– and a most welcome one."

"What about you?"

Hezekiah tried to give him a reassuring smile. "I'll make do on the floor. I have some extra blankets to sleep on."

"No, no, you'll be uncomfortable..."

"I don't sleep anyway," he said with a laugh, "at least one of us can get a good night's rest."

Nathaniel didn't answer, just stared at the bed pensively. Hezekiah raised an eyebrow. "Something else on your mind?"

Nathaniel glanced at him, then back at the bed. "What if," he asked, "we just shared the bed? I mean," he laughed nervously, "no point in either of us sleeping on the floor if there's room for both of us, right?"

Hezekiah blinked, surprised. "Oh, uh..." He glanced at the bed. It was small, and if they shared they'd lie shoulder to shoulder at least. "It's truly unnecessary..." He trailed off. Nathaniel was avoiding his gaze, hands twisted together behind his back. Hezekiah cleared his throat. "Yes, good idea. It's worth a shot."

Nathaniel finally looked back at him and smiled shyly.

Hezekiah left to get ready for sleep with a clipped explanation. He heard Nathaniel in the background rush to do the same. He went through the motions, letting habit take over while his mind remained on the offer. It's not that he was against it– Nathaniel was his closest friend– but a small dose of anxiety bubbled in his stomach anyway. Was it improper? No one would see, of course, except the Lord, but he'd surely understand, right?

Hezekiah was overthinking things. If Nathaniel was comfortable, so was he.

He returned to the room and found Nathaniel already sitting on the edge of the bed. He offered him a smile and an extra blanket so they'd each have their own. Nathaniel thanked him.

"You should sleep next to the wall," Hezekiah said, "I don't want to disturb you when I get up."

Nathaniel nodded and shifted to lie down, moving the blanket to the side and draping his own blanket over himself. Hezekiah followed him, his heart beating steady but faster than normal. The two lay in the dark, the room silent save for their breathing. Hezekiah could feel Nathaniel's arm, warm even through the blankets separating them.

“What is it about the churchyard that you find so much peace in it?”

Hezekiah turned his head to face Nathaniel and found him watching him. He turned the question over in his mind and tried to think of a way to make his friend understand. “When I think about what it might be like for the dead resting underground, I can't help but feel as if they are truly at peace. They are pressured not by the heavy weight of existence, but by the soft earth. I… I long to know what it's like. Not to be dead,” he added, seeing the brief look of panic flash across Nathaniel's face, “no, I am satisfied enough with the life you have given me. But, surely you must wonder as well, what it'd be like to be weighed down like those souls?”

Nathaniel took a deep breath. He searched Hezekiah's gaze, eyebrows pinched together. “You find the idea of crushing weight a comfort?”

“Yes, that and,” Hezekiah smiled despite himself, “It's so warm in those empty graves, Nathaniel, you'd understand what I meant if you were down there.”

Nathaniel hummed and shook his head. “I'm quite alright.” He searched Hezekiah’s gaze, for what, he didn't know. “What if–” he closed his mouth, pressed his lips together tight, tried again, “Could I offer you the same comfort?”

Confusion tugged at Hezekiah, and he expressed as much, “What are you suggesting?”

This proved too difficult for Nathaniel to directly explain, his mouth opening and closing as he stumbled on what to say. Hezekiah wondered what it was he wanted to say that made him so afraid to speak.

Eventually, he simply asked, “Do you trust me?”

“What–” Hezekiah was caught off guard, “of course I trust you! With my life; you will find eternal loyalty in me.”

That earned a smile from Nathaniel, but it quickly became nervous. He slowly raised his hand and reached over to Hezekiah's shoulder. He ran his hand down his arm until he found Hezekiah's hand, and pulled it towards him. Hezekiah stared at his hand in Nathaniel's hold, mouth dry, as he wrapped it around his waist and shifted closer. Nathaniel wrapped his arm around Hezekiah's shoulder and pulled him closer, tucking Hezekiah's head into his chest. “Is this… are you comfortable?” His voice shook, fear laced into the words.

Hezekiah didn't answer right away, hyper-aware of their closeness and how tightly Nathaniel was holding him. He should feel trapped and uncomfortable; he should push Nathaniel away.

But he also should hate the idea of being buried. Instead, the pressure was soothing. Hezekiah breathed in the scent of strangely familiar cologne and curled his hand into his shirt. Answered, “Yes, I… yes.”

Nathaniel sighed, relieved. “Sleep well, Hezekiah.”

Hezekiah didn't answer, just nodded against his chest.

He hadn't slept so comfortably in a bed in years.

Nathaniel had taken to joining Hezekiah to mass. He'd insist on staying afterward, when it was time for Hezekiah to make his routine rounds making sure the church is kept proper.

People were interested in the new attendee.

They were sitting in the back, as Hezekiah would rather avoid the Reverend noticing his tendency to fall asleep during mass. While Hezekiah had admittedly been getting better sleep since Nathaniel arrived, he still found his eyes slipping closed while the Reverend's neutral, gravelly voice droned on. Nathaniel noticed, surely, especially since Hezekiah had admitted to it in one of his earlier letters, but he hasn’t commented on it or woken Hezekiah up from his slumber, which he is grateful for. He only tapped on his hand resting on the pew when communion began, so that they may both receive the sacred eucharist.

Now, Hezekiah thought himself a devoted man, but Nathaniel had remained kneeled in prayer for two minutes past when the Reverend had resumed the mass. He’d always stopped once the Reverend continued speaking again when Hezekiah and Nathaniel had attended mass together in the past, when they had still lived in the same city. He wondered if he should bring it up later, to check on if his friend was carrying a burden too heavy. While what one shares with the Lord is often kept secret from others, Hezekiah hoped the man knew he would never judge his struggles.

They sat faithfully while the Reverend concluded mass. Afterward, Hezekiah looked to Nathaniel to ask if he was ready to leave but found him facing ahead, eyes closed and hands under his chin, fingers slightly curled together in prayer. The words evaporated on his tongue, and he instead sat in silence, patiently waiting for Nathaniel to finish.

He wasn’t the only one waiting. A woman was hovering at the entrance to their pew. Hezekiah could see her glancing over with interest. She seemed patient enough to wait, and Hezekiah admittedly wasn’t the most social of people, so he continued to sit while Nathaniel prayed.

In time, he finished, making the sign of the cross and opening his eyes to smile at Hezekiah. He returned it and pointed to the woman, who perked up upon seeing him straighten in his seat. Nathaniel turned his head to look at her.

“Who is she?” he asked.

Hezekiah shrugged, even though Nathaniel couldn’t see it. “She owns the local pub, but I can’t recall her name. She’s probably interested in you.”

Nathaniel whipped back around to stare at him incredulously. “What?”

He snorted. “I didn't mean it like that. Dear Heavens, Nathaniel, what are you thinking? I simply meant you don’t live here, so it’s only reasonable to be curious about a new visitor to the church. Or maybe she just sees you as a potential customer.”

“Ah,” Nathaniel cleared his throat, and Hezekiah could see the tips of his ears had gone pink from embarrassment. “I see.”

Hezekiah laughed quietly, and Nathaniel glared at him halfheartedly before getting up. “Well, let’s say hello before she decides I’m rude for making her wait so long.”

Hezekiah nodded and stood up. They made their way to the end of the pew, and the woman backed up to make space for them.

“Hello, Miss,” Nathaniel greeted, wearing a polite smile, “how may I be of service?”

The woman, appearing to be in her mid-thirties with dark blond hair tied up into a neat bun and a brown church dress, gave him an appraised once over before dipping her head, returning the greeting. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new here?” Her eyes were sharp, dark blue and piercing, eyebrows set determinedly.

“I’m here on a visit to my friend,” he replied, gesturing to Hezekiah who had moved to stand beside him, “I live in Dunstable.”

The woman nodded. “Well then, it is lovely to meet you, Mr…?”

“Beale. Nathaniel Beale.”

“Mr. Beale. And Mr. Wakely, of course,” she said, her gaze shifting to Hezekiah. He nodded towards her. “I am Alice Webb.”

“It is an honor to meet you.” Nathaniel’s voice sounded so sincere, and even if Hezekiah knew better, he found himself soothed by his voice nonetheless. He could only try to match the man’s smile, though it was likely weak in comparison.

“Likewise,” Alice said, and continued, “If you’re going to stay here for a while, you might as well meet the locals. My pub is just down the street. You should drop in tonight.”

“... I’ll consider it,” Nathaniel said, glancing at Hezekiah, who shrugged. Alice nodded and bid them a good day, clearly finished with the interaction.

“She’s very focused on her business,” Hezekiah observed. He glanced at Nathaniel. “Are you going to go?”

Nathaniel’s gaze flickered to him, then the church doors where Alice had just left. “I think I’ll pass.”

“You’re a more social man than I am, you don’t have to refuse the offer for me. I’ll be fine alone for a few hours while you get some drinks with the townsfolk.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “No, I came here to visit you.” Despite his calm expression, his shoulders were rigid. He always got uncomfortable with so much as the mention of alcohol since he’d discovered Hezekiah’s drinking problem.

Hezekiah sighed. “Very well, I won’t mention it.”

The sun was setting, casting a golden hue through the church windows. Hezekiah had finished cleaning and was eager to get home and eat after hours of work. He looked to where Nathaniel was sitting in the back of the church, the same spot they sit in for mass.

Nathaniel insisted on staying with Hezekiah while he performed his duties as sexton. Luckily, there had been no need for gravedigging since his arrival, but it meant he spent a lot of time in the church. Not always, Hezekiah urged him to take walks in the village or nearby woods, and sometimes he left and came back with food for them to eat together. But more often than not, he could be found at the same pew, reading a book, praying, and the occasional nap Hezekiah caught him in that Nathaniel would always deny. He occasionally explored the church, looking at the art and carvings, or lit a candle and prayed in front of a painting of St. Anthony the Great.

From where Hezekiah was standing, Nathaniel's pose indicated he was kneeling on the bench, his elbows resting on the pew in front of him, hands together in prayer and head bent down, hiding his expression. He approached the man quietly, not wanting to disturb his prayer. He walked to the back of the pew and reached over to tap Nathaniel on the shoulder, but paused. The man was muttering to himself. Hezekiah strained his ears and leaned in imperceptibly to hear what he was saying.

“–don't know what to do, how to help him. If I leave, will you protect him?”

Oh. Warmth bloomed in Hezekiah's chest at the same time dread pooled in his stomach. The words came out so genuinely, laced with worry and something else he dared not name. He cleared his throat, refusing to look anywhere near Nathaniel.

The man jumped, spinning his head around, eyes wide. “H-Hezekiah!” he said, quickly making the sign of the cross and standing up. “Were you waiting for me? I’m sorry.”

Hezekiah shook his head. “It’s alright. Let’s… let’s go home. I’ve finished my duties for the day.”

“Ah, lovely,” Nathaniel smiled, exiting the pew and joining his side as they left the church together.

The two walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth and the sunset painting the sky in red and oranges. Hezekiah couldn’t help but sneak glances at the man walking beside him and wondered if admitting he overheard his praying would be a mistake. If Nathaniel was to be leaving soon, then Hezekiah would certainly find out quickly enough. He wasn’t even sure why the idea scared him so much. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy his friend’s company, but he was perfectly capable of existing on his own. Nathaniel owned a business, it was only a matter of time before he had to leave. Hezekiah would miss him, of course he would, but it was hardly an explanation for how heavy his heart felt in his chest.

“Are you leaving soon?” Hezekiah finally broke the silence.

Nathaniel turned to him, mild surprise that turned into embarrassment. “I’m afraid I must. I received a letter yesterday. There’s some business I must attend to back in Dunstable.”

Hezekiah pushed away the sadness in his voice. “I see. When will you be leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning, if I can.”

“I suppose I’ll be off, then?”

They stood at his door, the morning sun leaking into the house.

“Have a safe journey. And,” Hezekiah added as an afterthought, “good luck with whatever business is awaiting you back at home.”

Nathaniel laughed. “Thank you.” Hezekiah expected him to leave after that, but he lingered, hand resting against the doorframe.

“Is everything alright?” Hezekiah asked.

Nathaniel opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it. He looked over Hezekiah’s shoulder into the home’s interior, deep in thought. Eventually, he sighed and said, “I have a request to ask of you.”

“For you, Nathaniel, anything.”

“Please don’t sleep in the churchyard. I still don’t understand what comfort you find in it, but I can assure you it is not worth it. You should take care of yourself, friend.”

Hezekiah’s shoulders dropped, somewhat disappointed. “Nathaniel–”

“Please, Hezekiah. Trust me? I don’t want to see you hurt.”

He frowned, an argument on the tip of his tongue, but…

Nathaniel was looking at him with so much concern and care, and Hezekiah felt cruel, making someone with such a big heart waste it on worrying over him. He’d already done so much for him, to make him do more than what he’d already done wasn’t fair.

“Okay, I’ll… I’ll try.”

“Promise.”

“Yes, I promise.”

“That’s all I ask of you.” Nathaniel gave him a reassuring smile. “Make sure to write me letters. I look forward to every single one.”

Hezekiah huffed. “Yes, of course. Now go. You’re just stalling, aren’t you?”

Nathaniel’s smile turned sheepish. “Perhaps I am. Very well,” he said, turning around and picking up his briefcase, “I’ll be on my way.” He began to walk down the path, his shadow soft in the cloudy morning.

“Goodbye, Nathaniel,” Hezekiah called. The man raised his free hand and waved behind him.

Hezekiah stood by the door to watch him leave, only closing the door when Nathaniel was no longer visible. He sighed, forehead hitting against the door with a soft thud.

The ground called to him, an unsung melody that made his fingers twitch. But he’d promised, and he’d be damned if he went back on his word. He’ll resist it, if only for Nathaniel.

Hezekiah failed.

It had been fine, the urge an itch under his skin he could ignore. He lasted weeks, nearly a month before crumbling.

There was an older man who attended church frequently that he had come to know, David. The man didn't have a family, his wife already passed on and his son had moved away with his wife years ago. Hezekiah suspected he was a replacement, of sorts.

Despite that, David had slowly carved his spot in Hezekiah's day, sitting while he cleaned after mass and talking about anything that was on his mind, complaints about younger folks these days, or stories from his childhood. Hezekiah was not a social man, but he had grown to appreciate his presence.

Perhaps that was why it was so hard to resist the comfort that the earth offered. David's death struck Hezekiah in a way none of the others did. Maybe, in some strange twisted way, resting in his grave was like a final moment together, even if David had not yet moved into his body's eternal home.

The rest had soothed him. After a month of difficult sleep, of sleeping in an empty bed with a thin blanket, that night was a blessing. His slumber was deep and dreamless, and he woke up restful.

But regardless of how much it had felt worth it, Hezekiah had broken his promise. Nathaniel– kind, patient Nathaniel– had asked him to resist the lure of being buried, and he had failed.

He wrote about it, of course. The other man was his solace. He may not be truly honest during confession, but no secrets need lie between him and his friend. His letter admitted to his crime and laid out all the details.

Still, despite the letter and broken promise, Hezekiah had not expected the speed at which Nathaniel returned. It seemed only possible if he'd left the moment he read the letter.

The panic was clear in his tone when he called for Hezekiah. And yet, he still knocked on the door for him to open instead of barging in.

“Hezekiah,” he wheezed, out of breath.

“Nathaniel, you’re… here,” Hezekiah said, leading him by the shoulder into the house and sitting him down on a chair. “Whatever has you in such a rush?”

“You!” Nathaniel burst, gripping his arm.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Tell me what happened.”

Hezekiah immediately knew what he was talking about. “I explained in the letter, didn't I?” he pried Nathaniel’s hand off his arm.

“Well, sure, but I still can't understand your explanation. You could have gotten sick or injured.”

“I suppose…”

“Please, Hezekiah, I'm just trying to understand. You haven't been getting dark thoughts again, have you?” Nathaniel asked, nearly pleading.

“No! No, of course not. I assure you my fascination with the grave has nothing to do with death. I am no suicide, I can promise you that much.” Hezekiah offered him a comforting smile, but it only seemed to worry Nathaniel more.

“I'm concerned for you, that's all,” he admitted.

“And I'm touched. Truly, your kindness never ceases to astonish me. But it really is unfounded. I have found a job and home for myself in this town, the bottle has gone untouched, and I have been getting along well enough with the townsfolk. What more is there to ask for?”

“Your health , Hezekiah, that's what.”

“I am feeling fine,” he retorted, “You have too little faith in me.”

“I have faith,” Nathaniel soothed, “but the matter of fact is that you sent me a letter saying you had broken your promise. My concern is not unfounded.”

Hezekiah relented. “Yes, I suppose you have a point. Though,” he added,” nothing has come out of my night in the grave. While not unfounded, it may be a bit… much.”

“You having considered sleeping in a grave at all is worth worrying over!” Nathaniel's hands flew up, emphasizing his words. “Surely you can see my point of view?” He looked at Hezekiah desperately.

Hezekiah sighed. “I must admit I am struggling to do so.”

Nathaniel seemed lost for words. The conversation had clearly provided him no comfort, and Hezekiah began to feel guilt stir in his chest. “Listen, friend,” he said, voice low and calm, “why don't you stay a few days? Travel must have been tiring, you should rest. And in that time, you can check on me and be assured my mental state is sound.”

“Yes,” he agreed easily, “very well.”

Nathaniel joined Hezekiah in burying graves. He hadn’t spent a moment alone in the graveyard since the man’s arrival.

Hezekiah thought it was unnecessary, but he’d already agreed to Nathaniel looking over him, and he wasn’t about to go back on his word.

The chance to converse while at work was appreciated. He showed Nathaniel the bell system the Reverend had installed.

“It’s rather extreme if you ask me,” Hezekiah commented.

“After the scare the Reverend had, I can hardly blame him. Besides, a bit of extra security can’t do any harm, can it?” Nathaniel sat between two graves as Hezekiah worked. The Reverend felt uncomfortable putting an unpaid person to work, so he’d been refused a shovel to aid in the digging.

“It’s horrible, is what it is. Let the people rest, I’d say.”

“But if it’s not their time yet…”

“I’d take it as a sign from God if I was mistakenly buried,” Hezekiah sniffed. “It doesn’t sound too bad, just a few moments of discomfort for rest.”

“Discomfort?” Nathaniel repeated. “Heavens, Hezekiah, I’d hardly call being suffocated to death a ‘moment of discomfort.’”

“Why not?”

“Well– because– it’s death!”

“Yes, I know that.”

“This sounds very concerning, surely you can hear that,” Nathaniel said, standing up.

Hezekiah huffed. “I just think it’s rather rude, that’s all.”

Nathaniel stalked over and took the shovel from Hezekiah. He lets him, if only from confusion. “What?”

“I want you to promise me that you won’t tamper with the bells.”

“You ask for many promises,” he observed.

“Reasonable ones. Will you promise me this?”

“Yes, Nathaniel, I’m not a murderer.” Hezekiah took the shovel back. “I’d have thought you trusted me this much.”

Nathaniel frowned. “I think the world of you,” he said, hurt, and Hezekiah bit his lip at the guilt that pooled in his stomach.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

Nathaniel sighed. “I know you didn’t,” he said softly.

Hezekiah’s shoulders slumped. He decided to drop the subject, wanting to avoid upsetting him further.

Nathaniel simply didn’t understand. He didn’t have to; this was Hezekiah’s home, not his.

Hezekiah sank deeper into the warm water, letting out a relieved sigh. His muscles were sore from digging graves and his skin felt grimy with dirt and sweat. He rubbed a sponge against his arm, trying to scrub off the layer of dried dirt that clung to him.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice Nathaniel creeping up behind him until a hand brushed through his hair.

He jumped, whipping his head around. Nathaniel blinked down at him, hands raised, startled by his reaction.

Hezekiah laughed. “You scared me.”

Nathaniel huffed, carding his hand through his hair again. “There’s dried mud in your hair.”

“Is there?”

“Yes.” He pushed at Hezekiah’s shoulders. “Let me wash it.”

Hezekiah opened his mouth to argue. It wasn’t the first time Nathaniel offered to bathe him, nor would it be the first time he did. He vaguely remembered nights when Nathaniel pushed around a drunken Hezekiah, undressing or bathing him to put him to bed, and a few times he just splashed water in his face in a futile attempt to sober him up. But Hezekiah hardly needed that help anymore.

Nathaniel continued running his hand through Hezekiah’s hair, avoiding pulling on any tangles. It was soothing, and he melted under the ministrations. Against his better judgment, Hezekiah found himself nodding in agreement, lowering himself further into the tub.

Nathaniel dipped his hand into the water and poured it over his head, shielding his face with a hand cupping the top of his forehead. Hezekiah could feel it fall in rivulets down the back of his head and behind his ears. Nathaniel continued until his hair was properly wet, then began to rub the dirt from his hair, rinsing it off every once in a while. He worked piece by piece, gently and slowly working out tangles as he spotted them. Hezekiah closed his eyes and basked under the attention.

Nathaniel finished rinsing the mud from his hair and tapped Hezekiah’s shoulder to notify him he was finished. Hezekiah’s eyes fluttered open, watching Nathaniel as he circled the tub. He pried the sponge from his hand and picked up his arm, patiently cleaning the dirt from his skin. Hezekiah watched, transfixed, as he washed his arms, hands, chest, and neck, then brushed over his cheeks and nose, fingers grazing against uneven stubble.

Strangely, there was a lack of self-consciousness from within Hezekiah despite being completely unclothed. The other man exuded comfort and non-judgment, offering only a kind smile and gentle hands.

Nathaniel brushed the wet hair sticking to his forehead and hanging in front of his eyes away, lingering, his fingers brushing the curve of his ear.

Hezekiah swallowed. “Thank you,” he whispered, the sound carrying through the silent room.

“Always.”

Moonlight filtered through an open window, curtains drawn back by Nathaniel. Said man held Hezekiah close, his arm wrapped around his waist. Hezekiah held his hand, feeling it pressed flat against his stomach.

He couldn’t sleep.

It was warm in bed, sharing body heat with his closest friend. He could feel Nathaniel’s chest rise and fall against his back. A thin blanket wrapped around them, a cocoon of comfort.

Yet for some reason, sleep eluded Hezekiah that night. He stared out the window, watching trees sway in the wind. He traced circles on the back of Nathaniel's hand to distract himself. He brushed his index fingers over his knuckles, fighting the urge to intertwine their fingers.

He froze when the hand flipped over and held his own.

“Can’t sleep?” Nathaniel murmured, voice groggy.

“Sorry,” Hezekiah whispered back, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Nathaniel huffed, his breath ghosting over Hezekiah’s neck. “It’s alright. What’s keeping you up?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Hm…”

“You can go back to sleep, I’ll be fine.”

“No, no… I…”

Hezekiah stayed quiet, listening to see if he dozed off.

Nathaniel exhaled. “I wanted to talk about something.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I worry I will lose courage for it in the day.”

Hezekiah turned around to look at Nathaniel. The moonlight did little to illuminate him, but he could still make out the vague features of his face. His smile lines, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, his brown eyes black in the darkness. “What is it?”

Nathaniel did not answer at first. He stared at Hezekiah with a tired but thoughtful expression, eyebrows creased and eyes half-lidded. He seemed to be searching for something.

“I want you to come home with me.”

“What?” Hezekiah asks. Surprise colored his words. He was startled out of any exhaustion that crept on the outskirts of his restless state. “Where is this coming from?”

“I can’t stay here forever, Hezekiah.”

“Then go. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“I’m sure you are,” Nathaniel soothed, running his hand up and down Hezekiah’s back. He squirmed away, grabbing his arm and moving it away from him. Hurt flashed across Nathaniel's face, but he pulled his arm back and gave Hezekiah his space.

“Are you? Because it seems you’ve forgotten who got me this job. Now you want me to leave?” Hezekiah snapped.

Nathaniel bit his lip. “I admit, I’ve come to regret that decision.” Hezekiah’s eyes widened. “I thought it’d be good for you. But all this time around graves– it’s done something to you.”

“I’m fine .”

“When are you going to admit this isn’t fine? I want to see you happy, not obsessing over when it’s your time to slumber six feet under.”

“And what if that is where my happiness is?”

“Like how you needed alcohol?” Nathaniel countered.

Hezekiah recoiled. “That isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Nathaniel repeated, quieter, “Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.” Hezekiah sat up, lifting his feet off the bed and onto the floor. He stood up and took a few steps forward, unsure of where he intended to go. Anywhere away from this conversation.

“Then explain it to me. Explain how it's different,” Nathaniel pleaded.

Hezekiah turned around. Nathaniel sat up, leaning onto his arm.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Because I’m here to make sure you don’t. You did when I was gone.”

He sighed. “What do you want from me?”

Nathaniel stood up as well. “I want you to be okay . I worded it badly before.” He ran a hand through this hair, foot tapping against the ground. “You don’t have to always be with me, you should be able to live your life. But this place isn’t healthy for you. We can find you a different job, anything. Just not this.”

Hezekiah crossed his arms. “This job is going well. You’re overreacting.”

“Am I? Then promise me that when I leave you’ll dig graves and nothing more. You won’t sleep in them, won’t even lie down for a few minutes.”

“I…” He huffed and shook his head. “I fail to see why it matters. There’s no harm to it.”

“There is .” Nathaniel took a step closer to him. “Tell me truthfully: do you want me gone?”

Hezekiah frowns. “Of course not.”

“Really? You never thought about when I’d leave so you’d finally have the churchyard to yourself?”

He immediately went to rebuke the idea, but hesitated. Nathaniel noticed.

“Right.”

“Can’t a man want privacy?” Hezekiah argued, but it was weak.

Nathaniel turned his head away. “Just think about it, at least.”

Hezekiah didn’t bother with an answer. He went to the kitchen to brew tea for himself– he wouldn't be sleeping that night.

“You don’t clean with the same care you used to,” Nathaniel observed.

“What do you mean?” Hezekiah asked, dusting off the crucifix at the front of the church.

“You used to handle sacred objects like they were fragile and important. Now they’re just another thing to clean.”

“I suppose I got used to the job.”

“Yes, that would make sense…”

Hezekiah turned around to look at Nathaniel. He’s seated on the front row of pews. “Something on your mind?”

He shifted, taking a deep breath. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, feel free to share when you figure it out,” Hezekiah said, returning to his work.

He heard Nathaniel snort. “How generous.”

Hezekiah ran the cloth over the carved head and arms, brushing off the collected dust. He leaned up to wipe the top of the cross and the sign reading “INRI”.

“What do you think about Heaven?”

“Hm?” He glanced over at Nathaniel and returned to his work. “The bible’s not very clear in its descriptions, but I suppose that's because we humans wouldn't be able to truly comprehend it.”

“Yes, but what’s your opinion on salvation?”

Hezekiah paused. “It's… complicated.”

He heard the pew squeak and footsteps walking towards him. “In what way?”

“The Reverend said we won't ever need sleep in Heaven. That doesn't sound very appealing to me. But any sort of Heaven is much preferable to the alternative, so I suppose it doesn't matter.”

Nathaniel hummed from nearby. Hezekiah finished dusting the crucifix and turned around. He was standing next to the altar, watching him. His shoulders sagged and his eyes were lidded, exhausted from the previous night’s work.

“What is your ideal afterlife, then?”

Hezekiah shrugged. “Nothing. Just bury me under and leave my body to rest.”

Nathaniel hummed. “I've been thinking about worship.”

“What for?”

“We all thank the Lord for the world and life He’s given us, but how much are we grateful for it? People are always asking and looking for more.”

“That's why people pray for forgiveness, no? For their greed.”

“Isn't there a point where you stop to think why no one is fulfilled? If we're all failing, weren't we set up to do so?”

Hezekiah titled his head. “Humanity is inherently flawed. But the point is we're supposed to try.” He hesitated. “At least, if you want the Lord's forgiveness and salvation.”

Nathaniel smiled sadly. “Yes, you're right.”

Hezekiah walked over to him, analyzing his expression. There was a faraway look in his eye as if he was deep in thought.

“What prompted this?”

Nathaniel's gaze flickered over to him. “I'm not entirely sure.”

“Maybe you should get some rest,” Hezekiah suggested. “You stayed up late, with us digging the grave for the baker.”

“You’re the one who did all the work. And then again, filling it back up during the funeral. It must have been difficult, breaking through the frozen soil.”

He smiled. “Ah, but I’m used to it. I’ve been at this job a while now, I can handle it. You aren’t, and staying up with me has taken a toll on you. Look, the sun is almost already gone. You should go to sleep.”

“Perhaps you’re right…”

He patted Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Off you go. I'll come back once I finish cleaning.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Hezekiah lied.

He hadn't meant to. He fully intended to return to Nathaniel after finishing his job. But the conversation from earlier kept ringing through his head.

Humanity was imperfect. Sin sits in them from the moment of creation. They were made flawed and lived flawed lives. He wondered if it was sin that left them so exhausted. Wouldn’t salvation be then to sleep? Eternal rest from the evils of the world. That is the true heaven. That is what Hezekiah wants, what he deserves. What they all do.

Dust to dust. If man was made from earth, is it not only right that he return there?

Hezekiah had planned to go home to Nathaniel.

The Reverend had already bid his goodbyes. Only Hezekiah was around to hear the bell ringing in the churchyard.

Jacob was a good man. A skilled baker and a kind soul. He deserved to rest.

Hezekiah grabbed his shovel and made his way through the dark until he found the cord. His breaths were visible in the air, the handle of his shovel cold to the touch. He raised his shovel, pointing the sharp edge right over the fragile contraption.

He braced himself to swing, and–

– and something grabbed his arm.

He whipped his head around, meeting the hardened gaze of his closest friend. His usually warm brown eyes were cold and dark in the night.

“What are you doing?”

Hezekiah could not answer.

The Reverend was nearly inconsolable that another person had been buried alive. He said it was a miracle that Hezekiah worked late so that they had been able to catch the bell ringing. His eyes were raised to the Heavens in gratitude.

Hezekiah was staring at the ground.

Nathaniel’s gaze never left him .

They were all left exhausted and covered in dirt from trying to dig Jacob out of the ground as quickly as they could. The baker was a mess, shivering and choking on his sobs. He was gasping, trying to fill his lungs with as much air as possible. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, his wife rubbing his back comfortingly, her cheeks tearstained. Hezekiah’s heart weighed heavy in his chest, but to explain why was something he could not do.

He felt guilty that the man was disturbed from his slumber. He felt guilty that he had once again broken his promise to Nathaniel.

He felt Nathaniel’s gaze on him, nearly burning in the cold of the night. He refused to meet it.

Jacob was taken to the town’s infirmary, accompanied by his wife and the Reverend. Hezekiah was given the next day off.

He and Nathaniel walked home in silence. It was excruciating. He felt exposed, as if his soul was stripped bare and being judged.

It wasn’t an issue.

It didn’t hurt anyone.

Nathaniel was right.

Hezekiah’s hand sat on the doorknob of his house entrance. He held the key but didn’t move to unlock the door. He was waiting for his verdict.

Nathaniel sighed. “I don’t want to report you.”

He inhaled sharply.

Nathaniel gently grabbed his hands and held them in his own, forcing Hezekiah to face him. “Come home with me. Please , Hezekiah,” he pleaded. “Please.”

Hezekiah closed his eyes, holding back tears. He’d regret this decision in the morning, he knew. He regretted giving up the bottle for a long time. But he moved on, after working and struggling and tripping up and having to start all over again. He outgrew his need for drink.

This felt like something that would not just follow him to the grave, but push him into it.

He wanted to let it.

Nathaniel was right.

“Okay,” Hezekiah whispered. “Okay.”

He hoped he would outgrow this, too.