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“I believe it goes: ‘Sorry Daddy I’ve been very naughty.’ Although, I could be mistaken.” A voice from behind him sniggered.
The world was silenced, there was nothing but that knifes edge of a voice slicing through his mind. All the little sounds that had bled through stone walls dissipated, even the sounds of the building itself had ceased. It was the pure silence of a world frozen on its axis.
Well it would be if not for the sound of bare feet against wooden panels getting ever closer.
He heard the creak of wood as the door to the confessional booth he knelt in was opened. Felt the cold air of the church on his cheek as he was enveloped by the absence of sound.
Keeping his eyes closed didn’t stop the fact that Kayne was standing behind him from being a fact. It only served to make him jump when he felt the god’s fingers on his face.
A nail delicately trailed along the top of his cheek, before digging into the flesh hard enough that he felt blood begin to seep from its surface and mingle with that which had already been transferred from Kayne.
Suddenly, his head was roughly shifted upwards by the now ironclad grip on his jaw. Opening his eyes, he gazed into the grinning maw of a god and tried to pretend he was bored.
“You’re failing by the way.”
It was unsurprisingly difficult to reply with his chin being locked in place by false fingers with ever shifting bones. He quirked an eyebrow instead. He figured it had gotten the point across when Kayne replied:
“Failing to pretend you’re not happy to see me of course! How long has it been?” The entity clicked his fingers together, pantomiming forgetfulness. “Certainly it’s been a while. I’m afraid I’ve been awfully busy. Oh and that, well… you aren’t doing a very good job at confessing correctly are you? Not when you’re needing my advice.” He practically purred the last two words.
Charlie stared up into red eyes: rose petals in an ocean of crimson. Ripples spreading ever outwards in concentric circles and never finding an end to the sea. Kayne batted his lashes at him.
He wasn’t surprised Kayne would try and show up now, but that wasn’t to say he had been expecting it.
There had been no sign of him since the Order of the Fallen Star. Nothing. He had just been spirited away from lying on a cold marble floor surrounded by what had remained of the Butcher. The next thing he remembered was waking up in a hospital bed.
He had met Oscar.
He had been left behind and he had moved on.
He was healing. And if he wasn’t healing, he was damn well trying to.
Hell it was half the reason he was kneeling on the wooden floors of the confessional. Attempting to place one of his worst childhood memories in a kinder light.
The memories that had formed later were worse but he hadn’t wanted to burden the kindhearted priest with his myriad unsolvable problems.
He didn’t believe Oscar’s god was going to absolve him. He didn’t believe in Oscar’s god to begin with. What all powerful god would allow creatures like The King in his perfect world? Nevertheless, he would do his best for the man who had offered him a chance at salvation, even if it wasn’t in the holy way Oscar had intended it.
And yet here he was, kneeling before a god he knew to be real.
A god who knew his mind in ways he could never begin to understand. A god who had seen the worst of him and was ravenous for more.
Kayne had never looked more divine.
Not in how he was, Charlie knew first hand that he was no benevolent power, but in that moment he could have been a god worthy of worship in a place like this. A god who people like Oscar would find in the goodness within the earth and the hearts of all that inhabited it. Attributing that chosen virtue to the blessings a higher power.
In that moment he could understand why people venerated the divine.
He could have been a saint made manifest or depicted in stained glass. Half silhouetted by the light streaming in from the high windows. It caught in his hair. A golden halo for his blood stained saviour.
A fly caught in a web.
A star swallowed by a black hole.
Even if his head wasn’t being held in place he doubted he would be capable of looking away. He was still drawn to him after the months alone.
Silence was never enough to quiet the instincts of Charlie Dowd. If anything it made them louder.
Charlie tapped the hand applying pressure to his cheeks and jaw in the hope that Kayne would remove it.
He didn’t, but was kind enough to switch to simply cradling the bottom of his chin, running a thumb freshly stained with his own blood across his lower lip. Attempting to insert the digit into his mouth when he opened it to speak. He bit down upon the appendage. Charlie was nothing if not defiant, even if the act only earned him a look of amused disappointment.
“And how am I supposed to do this properly? Since you’re so insistent on bothering me.” He sighed. Trying to sound bored was difficult when battling the so called affection of an outer god.
“Well,” Kayne flicked him with the back of a long nail, spraying a thin line of blood up his face, before continuing, “You have so many options! Theres so many simple ones. Like that man you killed-“ Charlie had no idea which one he was talking about. “-and all those horrid little lies! But I think you’re better than that aren’t you Charlie?”
His skin crawled at the condescension. Kayne hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully pretending he hadn’t been waiting to say his next words the whole time.
“How about ‘Sorry Daddy, I ran away with a priest rather than wait for you and your obviously busy schedule!?’ Or ‘Sorry Daddy I got myself shot by that idiot Larson and never thanked you for rescuing me!’ How do those sound? Just to start you off with! I’m sure theres more a smart man like you can puzzle out.”
The insufferable prick emphasised his words by patting his cheek, adding more blood to that which was already beginning to congeal on his face.
“Fuck you”
Kayne plastered an expression of scandalised horror upon his face, as he blinked wildly he brought a hand up to where a heart should be.
“Right here? In a church??? Oh detective how forward of you! I suppose, if I must.” Kayne had the gall to wink at him as he began to unbuckle his belt.
Charlie couldn’t think of anything to stop him properly so he simply called the god’s name until he halted midway through unfastening his trousers.
“Was that not the point of your proposition?” False confusion was written on Kayne’s face.
The grin pulling at his mouth ruined his performance slightly. Resulting in something bloody and close to horrific even to Charlie’s warped idea of horror.
Sinew and skin tore at the corners of his mouth before resealing and continuing the cycle. His mouth looked seconds away from ripping upwards into the inhumane maw Kayne preferred to wear.
“Was that not the point of all of this?” He gestured with a hand to indicate their surroundings. “To get my attention with your dalliance with that little priest? I’ll admit I’ve been rather neglectful as of late but you must understand that I’m very busy, what with Arthur and John’s little quest.”
If he had been listening he would have demanded answers about the ex-god and his wiry vessel, only he had stopped registering Kayne’s words. How could he have forgotten about Oscar? What was wrong with him? Spellbound by Kayne when the man who had given him more than he could have dreamed of could be a puddle of viscera and gore.
There was no noise from the other side of the confessional.
The general lack of noise did nothing to ease his fears.
He was certain what happened to the Butcher was in part due to the fact they had gotten a little too chummy for Kayne’s liking. A shared cigarette and kiss was probably enough motivation for the capricious fuck.
“What have you done to Oscar?” He hoped more anger showed in his voice than fear. It wouldn’t work. He was with the only being who could see through his facade.
Kayne kept the same pretence of light hearted innocence as he replied, “Oh nothing! Why, do you think I should?”
He didn’t know if Kayne lost the battle with his mouth or it was a conscious choice but his grin was ear splitting. Either way the god had decided to stop playing pretend.
Charlie noted this and resigned himself to his fate.
“What do I have to do to make sure you don’t hurt him?”
Kayne’s eyes lit up. Evidently he had said the right thing.
“Well thats quite simple! You just have to confess! I don’t plan to kill your cute little priest (yet) so you can keep him (for now)! Just know who you really belong to. Ok.”
With a boop to Charlie’s nose Kayne draped himself along the door frame. Smug about getting his own way.
Charlie shifted on his knees and brought his hands together.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes before closing them, he began. Or he would have begun if not for the hand impatiently clicking in-front of his face before he could get past the S.
A lazy imitation of his own voice drawled, “Eyes open doll.”
And so he stared into the eyes of the god above him, haloed in the frozen sun stained by church windows.
He stared up into the eyes of divinity itself and uttered to his chagrin his confession.
Charlie felt exhausted but surprisingly calm once he had finished pouring his soul into the warped palms of his god- and he was his god. A malevolent, manipulative cunt of a god. Who nevertheless, answered his prayers and fulfilled his promises. Who knew and loved him in a way no distant, supposedly all loving god ever could.
Looking down at Charlie, knelt before him with his heart on a platter, Kayne simply smiled (It was too human. How could something that was supposed to be right look so wrong?), turned on his heel and walked towards the double doors of the church.
Once he was out of sight, hidden by wooden latticework, Charlie felt himself tear free from his stupor. Regaining control of numb legs he scrambled to his feet just in time to watch Kayne, a shadow framed by golden light from the setting sun, blow him a kiss before clicking his fingers.
Life instantly returned to the world. Dust continued falling in its lazy concentric circles. A woodlouse trotted its way across the aisle picking up its journey where it had left off.
He heard the door to the other side of the booth open and the shuffling of feet getting caught in fabric.
“Noel? Noel, are you alright? What happened to you? Are you ok?” The dulcet tones of Oscar’s voice washed over him as the priest made his way towards where he stood with his back to the confessional.
“Noel- Charlie, look at me.”
He did as he was asked and turned his face towards the beautiful scotsman.
The summer breeze that was once again to drifting its way through the building caused a chill upon his cheeks, informing him that he had been crying. He must look a mess, red rimmed eyes and bloodstained face. The whole package.
“Hi Oscar.” He cracked a smile. It came out stilted and false. The mask he’d worn had been severed from his sense of self, creating a few more pockets of empty in his patched up heart.
He felt the priests glasses tilted at an odd angle digging into his sternum before he realised that the priest had moved to wrap his arm around his waist and buried his face in his chest. He let his face fall into Oscar’s hair. Placing a kiss on the crown of his head in an attempt to reassure the both of them that he was fine.
The coo of a dove was cut off by the rumble of engines on the road while his ears buzzed with the remnants of the almost imperceptible electric crackle that was Kayne.
He didn’t bother to look up from Oscar. He wouldn’t see him even if he tried, so what was the point?