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Never having set foot in the church he entered, Shu kept his head held high despite any fear that was hiding inside of his heart. Anxiety and time would not pull him from his duties any longer, as he had not been home in some time and there were fewer and fewer options and churches for him to attend as he lived out his days on the road.
A life in art and music was certainly his calling, the stage his home. But he would not be one to selfishly claim to be the sole reason for his success, that no divine intervention had been begged for while on his knees as a boy. He never felt he was meant to stand alone underneath those brilliant lights. He had a partner, someone to lift him above his goals - someone that would remind him never to give up, and to punish him if he ever did.
He had been baptized years ago, but that was in his own church. Shu had not been home for some time. And he was not one to shout his beliefs above the words of those around him - certainly they knew, he wasn’t silent about anything at all. But Shu preferred to keep his relationship with God between the two of them, lest he expose any of his soft underbelly for the sharpened fangs of those who wished to tempt him away from all that was good.
Shu found himself distracted by such thoughts as he rose from his knees, barely noticing that he’d been singing without having to open the hymnal that sat in its place behind the pew in front of him. He had chosen to sit somewhere inconspicuous after introducing himself to the greeter. Three from the back, far enough to allow those who attended regularly to find their normal places but close enough to exhibit his intent. Certainly moving at least a third of the way into the pew would show that he meant to stay; though no one sat directly next to the beautiful stranger that had strolled in.
The priest who begun the service was elderly, and his voice was kind but not quite enough to shepherd Shu’s thoughts of the world and of his work.
With such heightened senses, Shu was focused on the smell of the incense and the gentle crunch of the carpet underneath his well-kept shoes. He intended to listen to the scripture, to the words the man of God was speaking, but something stirred in his heart. He hadn’t let any of the sermon reach him as it should have. Shu knew the words that were spoken, and he understood the message that was supposed to be told, but he simply wasn’t able to hold himself to his commitment. He was aware that he needed to be present more than physically, but there was nothing he could do.
The second priest rose and he glided to the center of the room, not placing his hands on the podium. He spoke into the microphone - and a strange marriage of confidence and lack thereof muddled the homily with something that caught Shu’s ear and then his full attention.
The priest was young. Possibly even younger than Shu himself; he found himself struck with awe at his dedication. He spoke as though he’d learned nothing else in his life, like he’d always been following. It was what he knew, who he was, but something subtly crackled underneath the facade he was hiding beneath his collar. Like he wasn't meant to be there, like he was lost, but everyone in the room seemed to overlook it for some reason.
He was thin, and his skin was flawless, and his eyes were two entirely different windows into light and dark. He held within him some sort of duality; certainly the love and discipline that would land him in a church and leading - but also a darkness that Shu felt only he could see with such perceptive eyes and sharp ears.
Thanks to those, he recognized the boy. It had been nearly fifteen years the farther back he thought - he hadn’t noticed or recognized him before he began speaking, but the eyes had plagued him with such a fascination that it woke something inside that had been dormant since he was a child. Shu couldn’t remember the exact words they exchanged or the circumstances of their meeting, but he recognized the colors of his pallete and soon he was imagining what kind of flowers to gather in a bouquet to compliment him. What paints he could stroke onto a canvas to capture their unique beauty; what shade of black to represent the torment he was beginning to battle.
Shu’s jaw was sore from clenching. He tried to relax the muscles in his face but it wasn’t enough just to stretch them without dropping it open, incredibly aware of what he looked like to anyone who may have torn their eyes away from the angel standing at the podium. How selfish it was to think someone would be looking at
him,
and not at the man reciting the Word as though it was the only thing that had ever been shoved into his mental dictionary. He didn't preach like he was reading from the book, he really sounded like he believed what he was saying; but there was something deeper in his somehow-charming speech that made Shu wonder.
His eyes caught the priest’s as he thought, and as if reading Shu's mind, he trailed off in a stammer that made those sitting in the pews chuckle with an adoration that turned Shu’s stomach. He thought that maybe it was hatred for the man who spoke about how temptation is not always so obvious, and how ironic it would be pouring from those lips like wine so clumsily spilled from a chalice held by nervous hands. He wondered if God had heard the thoughts. If doubting him at all was a sin. If questioning his abilities, or motives, or his intelligence was forcing some sort of regression of faith.
Temptation, the kind that was terrifyingly obvious, was keeping him from being as present as he should have been. Shu lived not in the hall, surrounded by beautiful and ornate stained glass and hand-carved wooden pews. He’d been driven to impure thoughts time and time again, however he’d be able to put himself to a task or a project that would have his hands too busy to allow his body to do anything about it. But the young priest stirred something within him so strongly that he found himself rising to take the open communion that had been offered for reasons that were not holy.
He hadn’t been baptized in that church, he had only stepped foot inside of it once. It was almost heinous, he thought, to think he deserved the blessing and love he would receive after allowing his thoughts to wander in directions they never should have. He was not in the correct mindset to receive such a gift, to offer himself completely. It wasn’t right for him to bow before taking his step toward the priest that stood on the step above him.
“The body,” the priest spoke incorrectly, incompletely, but no attention was brought to it. Shu wondered why exactly he stood where he was if he wasn’t able to speak such a simple statement correctly. But the shadow within him was hoping for another reason, that it wasn’t a simple slip-up. Shu could’ve been mad with the things that swirled inside of him - could he have misheard thanks to the positions his mind was contorting his hidden body into? Could this priest be so incompetent that they just allowed him to function as he was?
“Amen,” Shu answered in a husky tone he barely recognized. And not fighting the evil inside, he elected to keep his eyes opened as his tongue dipped past his lip.
There was something sinister in the aura of the priest that pressed the Eucharist to his tongue, as it lingered a moment longer than it should have and with a weight and purpose that more than bordered on sacrilege. His thumb dragged down the tip of Shu’s tongue, enough for him to taste a morsel of something he could never have.