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Nothing is housed in churches and temples and holy places that is not housed in you.
-Dayspring, Anthony Oliveira
Reverence
Rain, fog, murk and gloom. Inside and out this hellhole.
Alex was walking back to his one bed room. He bursted inside, hoping to find Nigel in the act of putting another beautifully packaged severed hand on his bed. No one was there. He was both relieved and disappointed.
He did find a letter, wax sealed. He plopped down on his bed, not yet pushing off his shoes. He picked it up and opened it. That exquisitely elegant handwriting was a sight for sore eyes.
My Dearest Jack,
Did you feel my eyes on you as I felt yours?
‘Burnt a hole in my head,’ Alex sighed in hopes of stifling a smile.
I want to see you. Come meet me at the church at 12AM.
Expecting you,
N.
Alex checked his wristwatch. 7 minutes past 8. Another secret meeting. Alex sighed, loosening his tie. Why did Nigel always make him wait for hours?
When 12 almost rolled around, Alex was feeling a bit moody. Maybe because of the lack of sleep? Anyways, he decided he was going to be late. If he wanted to see him so much, he could handle a bit of waiting. Though as he went on reading, he found himself unable to concentrate. He pictured the dolt waiting around with his flashlight as usual and felt a snicker coming up.
“Damn it, Nigel,” he mumbled, putting in between the pages whatever he found laying around. He got up and put on a jacket. He thought about how cold it would be but didn’t care much. He put on his shoes and left.
The campus was huge and it took time to go from one place to another. In his case, the church was almost 8 minutes away. The mist was making it a bit hard to see but he remembered the way. He wondered what he was doing. Nigel was dangerous… or so he ought to think. What was more concerning was if he would have to sacrifice sleep in their future. With how things looked and what he was currently doing, the answer seemed to be affirmative. But with this deep connection and understanding he had of Nigel and Nigel had of him, maybe it was not that big of a price to pay.
The school kept the church open at all times. At this time, there would be no Father or anyone else. Just Nigel waiting for him.
Alex took a deep breath and opened the door. Golden light emanated from the countless candles and lit up the pews and statue of Christ.
“Later than usual, Jack,” Nigel didn’t look up from the last candle he was lighting.
“What are we doing here?” Alex asked, closing the door with a dull thud.
The candles wavered with the air before burning steadily again. Nigel looked up at him as Alex walked towards him. The piercing, firm gaze he usually had seemed to slightly light up with emotion.
“What are churches for?” Nigel raised an eyebrow.
“Worship and funerals.” Alex held his gaze, “Well, that doesn’t seem unlike you.”
“We know how many were slaughtered for that cross.” He walked past him and sat on the first right pew. “We, Jack, are here to pray.”
“Pray? What for?”
“Come on,” Nigel patted beside him.
Alex went ahead and sat beside him.
“People pray for many reasons but most of them pray for forgiveness or beg for their wish to come true.”
“I know why people pray.”
“Anything you need to be forgiven for, Jack?” Nigel came close. “I know what you wish for already.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong yet.”
“Yet?” Nigel smirked, that all knowing smirk.
“Yeah, well, you tend to plant things in one’s mind.” Alex made a distance between them as Nigel seemed too up close.
“Well, then,” Nigel faced Christ, “let’s pray for our wish.” He slowly made the cross and put his hands together.
Alex looked up at the statue and thought of something to pray for. He didn’t usually pray at all. He knew their wish would come true. They would mould it with their bare hands, wielding each other. His eyes went to Nigel. The warm, golden light made his sharp features appear soft. Divine he naturally looked. Fallen angel rather than the devil. His eyes were closed but Alex could picture the vast deep blue. A window to his abyssal soul. A terror that had struck his whole being. Understanding that had enraptured him.
“I said pray, Alex,” Nigel said, not opening his eyes.
He realized the foreign word Nigel had just uttered was his name. Who did Alex really believe in, put all the faith he had in? God or Nigel?
Alex raised his clasped hands. Please, he prayed, the burn you have scarred me with – your breath against my face – let it never fade. Flowers spring from where I once bled thanks to your radiance. My being is no longer in torment, no longer abandoned. Alex thought of when Nigel told him of their destiny. Their union. How holy he alone was.
“Jack,” Nigel almost whispered.
Alex looked up at him.
Nigel held his clasped hands. It felt electric.
“Did you feel that?” He asked. Alex nodded.
They were intricate, synonymous, complete.
“We were meant to be one,” Nigel raised his hands to his forehead.
“What did you pray for?”
He pressed a kiss to his hands and looked right into his eyes. “You already know.”
Alex looked at their held hands. “Us.”
“Us.” Nigel held his hands tighter, holding them to his forehead again. Reverence. Veneration. He regarded him holy. A treasure. May he never have to spend another minute apart from him. He remembered how Alex listened to their gospel with all his might.
“All these years, the only solace I had was that we looked at the same moon. To finally be with you, Jack, is an honour.”
Alex bent down a little to meet his eyes. He still shivered, locking eyes with him. His eyes mirrored his overcome state. “I ached for you, too,” he said gently.
Nigel smiled which turned into a small grin. “Did you feel my eyes on you as I felt yours?”
Alex grinned. “Burnt a hole in my head.”