Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Church was an infallible part of Armand’s life since childhood. There was certainly a time before faith, but everything was hazy. It was easier not to think about it. What did it matter when salvation had come in the form of morning mass and nightly verses? Time before the Church, before Marius, meant little to him. That strict, watchful eye trained on him as he studied. It was only natural that his studies lead him to priesthood. He’d been primed for it, taught the rules, how to be holy.

Life was easier with rules. Learning what he would be praised or punished for. What led to heaven or hell. There was no need to be confused, only corrected. As a priest, he could help others before they needed correction. It was his mission, his purpose. Marius would call him angelo and praise his devotion. Armand had been so sure, back then, that everything he’d been taught was right. That if he followed Marius’ guidance, he would bring people into the Church, save them.

Of course, it hadn’t been so simple. He cried when he was assigned to train away from Marius, from the brothers he loved so dearly in Italy. All the English lessons and travelling had been leading up to it, yet it still came as a shock when Marius told him he was going to a tiny church in the United States. He cried silently as Marius listed off warnings and empty words. But he hadn’t complained. Who was he to dictate where God led him? So he left, clinging to the teachings, to Marius, to God.

None of it prepared him for reality. The rampant poverty no religion could cure. The people who twisted scripture into their own image. And it still wasn’t enough. The most devout believers suffered. The liars and cheats flourished. Nothing Marius said was true. Cracks had started to form at the very core of him. The Reverend told him he was being silly. That only God understood the ‘greater plan’ and humanity could only do their best. So, Armand had done his best. Participated in the Church’s charity events and the food drives. Too busy to think about it.

He stopped calling back home, stopped replying to ornate wax-sealed letters until they no longer showed up at his door. They were only filled with lies and contradictions. Things he couldn’t deny any longer. It was easier to ignore the past, to pretend it never happened in the first place. None of that mattered. The Reverend was right. He was doing his best. Even if he didn’t understand it, he had a duty to God. Except…

Two months ago someone new stumbled into the church. The cracks had yawned into an abyss. Armand knelt in front of the marble-carved crucifix and folded his hands.

“Dear God,” Armand raised his eyes, “I’ve had doubts for some time now.”

***

Technically, Armand was training and shouldn’t be sitting in the confession booth. But, as he’d learned over the past year, the Reverend was a fan of technicalities and leaving work early. He didn’t mind. Many confessions were misplaced guilt. If saying a few Hail-Mary’s or hearing a few comforting words was enough for someone to move on, then he was bringing people to God. Surely, that was how it worked.

It wasn’t a busy night. The regulars came and went hours prior. An older lady who never missed mass confessed to purposefully overwatering her neighbor’s plants. It was all rather mundane. He wanted to feel fulfilled as they left. Instead, he stared ahead, waiting for the church bells to ring out the end of his workday. It was quiet enough to hear the patter of rain against the windows. At least he’d brought an umbrella. He sighed and relaxed back against the unforgiving wood. Perhaps he could leave early.

The creak of the front doors made him sit up straight. He waited as footsteps grew closer, as the other door swung open and shut. Armand was hit with the stench of alcohol, heavy even through the grating.

“I’ve never done this before.” The man sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m here. Last time I was in a place like this, Father Brown said I was going to hell for sneaking off with one of the boys in youth group.”

Armand frowned. This was one of the most common confessions he got. The closeted devotees hoping for absolution. As if they were wrong for simply existing. “Homosexuality is not a sin.”

“I know,” the man said, too quick. He was quiet for a moment. “Actually it’s good you said that. I didn’t know what sorta place I was walking into. But I’m not here because I like guys. That’s the least of my worries.”

“Apologies,” Armand offered.

“Pretty sure you’re meant to do the forgiving.” The man huffed out a laugh. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“There’s no rules. You can tell me anything. Typically we’d start with the sign of the cross, but if you prefer not to, that’s fine. I’ll offer penance or advice once you’re done.”

“Ha, I don’t think any advice is gonna get me out of this one.” There was a thunk from the other side of the box, like the man leaned his head against the wall. “Just got divorced. Well it was a bit ago now. But it was my fault. Too much drinking, too much selfishness. I don’t think I married my wife—ex-wife—for love. It was just the next step in the process. I’ve got two daughters who hate me, which I get, but still… I mean it’s my own damn fault. Yet I’m the one wallowing in self-pity just to dump it on your doorstep.”

“You’re allowed to have feelings,” Armand said gently.

“The problem is having too many of them, I think. It’s hard to find my way out. That’s where the drinking comes in. Cause once I’ve downed a few, there’s no room left for the void, you know? Maybe that’s a cop out, but I can’t bring myself to care. Even when it fucks over everyone else in my life, I just do whatever serves me best. I mean, what kind of person does that?”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself.” Armand pulled his legs onto the bench, getting comfortable. He didn’t feel the need to put on a priestly veneer with this stranger. He clearly wasn’t seeking out God. Probably for the best. Armand wasn’t sure how to find Him either. This was about loneliness. About being lost. Armand understood that. “You’re struggling, we all do at some point. Just because you feel alone doesn’t mean that you are. There are things to turn to other than alcohol.”

The man was quiet for a moment. “There really isn’t. I’ve been staying at a hotel since the divorce. Can’t afford a real place until I can hold down a job again. No one’s reached out. Not my shitty parents. Not my daughters. And it hit me that I’d never made any meaningful friendships. So, it’s just me and the booze now.”

“And me,” Armand added. When the man started to laugh, he continued, “It might be hard to believe, but I do care about the people who speak to me. Well, most of them. Some are unbearable. I find myself zoning out.”

That shocked him out of laughing, “I don’t think you’re supposed to say that.”

“I can say whatever I like.” Armand leaned against the side of the box, just behind the grating. He swore he could hear the pattern of the man’s breathing. “Do you want penance or advice?”

The man considered it for a moment. “Hell, give me both and we’ll see if anything sticks.”

“Penance, take the umbrella from the third pew down and get home dry. Then go to sleep. No more drinking tonight. I imagine caring for yourself is enough of a punishment for now.”

“That’s… not what I expected. But sure, I’ll try.”

“All I ask is that you try.” Armand hummed. “As for advice, we host alcoholics anonymous meetings in the basement every Wednesday evening. I suggest stopping by.”

The man snorted. “Yeah, not happening. As fun as that pity party sounds, I’ll stick to my own methods.”

“Because those have been doing so well,” Armand rolled his eyes.

“Ouch,” the man chuckled. “You’re really something. If more priests were like you, maybe I’d believe in God.”

An unlikely scenario. Armand had met so many others now. How would they feel eavesdropping on this conversation? Surely Armand would be fired. It did nothing to dissuade him. “You’re always welcome here. Get home safe.”

“No promises,” the grin was evident in his tone. “But uh… thanks. This was nice? I guess.”

“Any time,” Armand said. He heard the other door swing open and listened to the footsteps, heading to the pews to collect the umbrella. Good. Armand could handle a little rain. He waited until the front doors clicked closed to emerge from his side of the box. It was hard to resist getting a peek at the man. Surely that was against the rules.

He wandered into the back offices, where the timetables were kept. The assignments for trainees were written in messy scrawl. Armand edited it, copying the handwriting expertly and assigning himself to help with alcoholics anonymous for the next few weeks. Just in case.

***

Armand was never warned just how much of priesthood was standing around. A couple people had arrived for the AA meeting and were milling about the room. He’d been put in charge of filling paper cups with instant coffee and offering them up to every new arrival. Mundane. A lady named Judith was running the meeting. Another trainee was there, setting up chairs in a circle. Armand poured another cup of coffee.

The meeting started three minutes late. Halfway through Judith’s opening prayers, the basement door creaked open. Armand filled another cup on autopilot. It was a man, a little disheveled. He winced when Judith paused and the whole room turned to him. Armand surveyed the newcomer. Curls that looked like he’d run his hands through them a few too many times. Beat-up leather jacket and bags under his eyes. Well, that’s what the coffee was for. Armand dutifully delivered the cup as the man quietly slipped into a free chair.

Judith went through the motions and Armand struggled not to zone out. Was there a benefit to the trainees awkwardly standing around? Probably something about feeling support from the church. The latecomer scoffed loudly, snapping Armand back to attention. Everyone was looking at the man, waiting.

“I’m Daniel.”

The introductions kept rounding the circle, but Armand lingered on him. Some sort of familiarity there. Was that the voice from confession? A few days had passed and the man specifically said he wouldn’t come. Still… Armand watched him. No wedding ring. Not that it confirmed anything. Many of the others in the circle didn't have one either. Why did he want to see the man so much anyway? To check on him?

The meeting shifted into sharing, people discussing the effects of alcohol on their lives and those they loved. Daniel’s face fell further with each one. Even the stories from people far along in sobriety, the hopeful ones, seemed to hit him like a dagger to the chest. The hour was almost up. Judith called for any last minute additions. For a moment, the room was still. Then Daniel raised his hand.

Judith turned to him with a smile, “Why don’t you introduce yourself again and share.”

“Well, like I said earlier, I’m Daniel.” He caught the look Judith gave him and rolled his eyes before adding, “And I’m an alcoholic.”

The group chorused, “Hi Daniel.”

He cringed, “Right. Listening today has been… something. But I feel like I’m the only one here missing the point. What’s hearing it meant to do? Like, your stories, I get them. And some of you’ve been sober for longer than I’ve managed in my life. And like congrats, for real. I’m not trying to be an asshole here. But what? I just keep showing up and magically I’m cured?”

Armand froze. The lilt and texture of his voice. It was the man from confession. It had to be. The drawl and shape of his syllables. The loneliness dripping from the words. His name was Daniel. Had he done his penance that night? Taken care of himself?

“Sharing has helped many people. We also have a chip system for milestones.” Judith explained. “Give it a try. Come back next week. Things don’t change overnight.”

Daniel frowned. “I don’t think it’s gonna help.”

Judith said something else then, going up to Daniel and giving his shoulder a squeeze. Daniel just stared at the floor. When the group said the closing prayer, Daniel stayed quiet. Unsurprising. He wasn’t religious. Perhaps that was putting him off from the group. People filed out of their seats. Some lingered to chat and have for more coffee. Daniel stayed still for a long time before heading for the door in a decisive move. Armand hastily poured more cups of coffee, leaving them up for grabs, and hurried to the stairs.

“Wait,” he caught Daniel’s arm.

Daniel’s whole face scrunched as he took in Armand’s uniform. He snatched his arm back. “What, did I break a rule or something? Don’t need a scolding. I won’t be back anyway, so no worries.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Armand paused, considering his words carefully. “I want you to know that you’re not alone. That’s the point of the meetings. And there’s free coffee.”

Daniel’s eyes went wide. “Wait a minute. You’re the guy? The fucking preist. Your accent…”

“Technically, I am not allowed to speak about confession outside the booth.” Armand felt a little thrill that Daniel recognized him.

“Oh let me guess,” Daniel smiled, crooked and endearing, “you don’t care about that rule?”

Armand attempted to stifle his grin. “My name is Armand. It’s nice to meet you face to face.”

“Shit man,” Daniel ran a hand through his curls. It had to be a stress habit. “Sorry about being an asshole. I mean I told you about my thoughts on this whole thing. It’s really not my scene.”

“I know, but you came anyway. That itself is progress. Giving yourself a chance.”

“Yeah, well. Someone advised me to give it a try.” Daniel shrugged, ducking his head. Judith brushed against Armand’s shoulder, apologizing as she went past.

He was suddenly very aware they were standing in the stairwell. “Would you like to talk again? If you think it helped last time?”

Daniel laughed, “What in the box?”

“No,” Armand tugged at the hem of his shirt. What were the boundaries here? Most people would be scandalized to have their confessional anonymity compromised. Daniel didn’t seem to mind, though. He seemed almost relieved. “If you don’t like the church we can go elsewhere. Somewhere you feel comfortable.”

“You’re just gonna follow me somewhere?” Daniel raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know me. What if I take you to a murder basement or something?”

“Are you planning to take me to a murder basement?” Armand started up the stairs.

Daniel followed, skipping a few steps to keep up. “No, of course not.”

“Then it’s fine.” Armand nudged Daniel towards one of the pews. “Wait here, I’m going to change.”

There was a chance Daniel might leave, so Armand hurried into his day clothes. Most of the time, he didn’t bother changing. It used to feel like a point of pride to go out in his collared black shirt. For people to know he was a man of God. It just felt strange now. Mundane. He swapped it out for a sweater.

Something in him uncoiled when he emerged to see Daniel still there, waiting. He smiled, like he’d been worried about the same thing. As if Armand would have escaped out a window for some reason.

They spoke casually as they walked. Small-talk. Breaking the ice. Armand loathed it. What was the point? Daniel was just filling the air. There was so much more he wanted to know. He wanted to sink his fingers into Daniel’s brain matter and see how it worked. See why he was so inexplicably drawn to him.

Case and point, Daniel had brought him to a tiny diner. No more than six tables in sight and eclectic decor covering the walls. Why here? Armand wanted to ask, but kept it down. He would let Daniel lead, for now. Daniel waved over a waitress as they took seats at the bar. She came over with coffee immediately, setting a cup in front of Daniel.

“A lot of caffeine for how late it is,” Armand commented. He asked for a glass of water and was presented with a list of more “fun” drinks to choose from. He pointed to a soda blend that came with a little umbrella. This was Daniel’s sort of place. Chaotic decor, silly menu items, and endless coffee. He filed that information away.

“You gave me the first cup, so whose fault is that?” Daniel knocked their feet together. But then he went back to small talk. Armand tried to keep the scowl from his face. He didn’t want to hear about ‘the weather’ or ‘traffic’. Daniel was stalling. Armand noted the fidget of his hands. Or perhaps he was nervous.

“Have you had anything to drink today?”

Daniel sipped his coffee. “No. It seemed like bad manners to show up to AA smelling like a liquor store.”

“I think it’s difficult to stop all at once. Are you feeling okay?”

“You think?” Daniel snorted. “Yeah it is. Probably not the best thing to try. Got any advice on that?”

Armand shrugged, “Ask Judith.”

“Then I have to keep going to meetings.”

Armand stared at him. “Yes.”

Daniel looked down into his mug. “I’ll think about it.”

A silence followed. It was preferable to the small talk, but Daniel seemed guarded now. That wasn’t Armand’s intent. He didn’t know how to repair whatever he’d broken. The waitress dropped a stack of pancakes and syrup in front of Daniel. Something about his ‘usual’ order.

“Want any?” Daniel asked. It felt like a peace offering. Or perhaps a reassurance that Armand hadn’t crossed a line and ruined things. That Daniel was trying to tune into him as well. “I usually take half to go, but if you’re hungry, I’ll ask for an extra plate.”

Armand agreed. The pancakes were good. He saw the appeal of the diner. Daniel fit well. The hint of humor that came out in lighter moments and undercurrent of tiredness. Maybe Armand was getting ahead of himself. He’d only met Daniel twice now. But he wanted to know more, to know everything.

“That night, did you do your penance?”

Daniel nodded, “Figured one night wouldn’t hurt. I mean I was already blitzed, but I just went to sleep. No more drinks. Oh, do you want your umbrella back?”

“No, it’s fine. You needed it far more than me. I ended up stealing one from the office.”

“Huh. You keep surprising me.” Daniel took a huge bite. It made his cheeks puff out and sent warmth through Armand. Something soft making itself known. “What made you wanna be a priest anyway?”

“I was raised in the faith. It seemed like a natural progression.” Not anymore, though. Why did he do it now? Because it was all he knew or because he wanted it?

“And then you just kept believing in it, even as you got older?”

“I…” Armand hesitated. He still believed. Surely, he did. But it wasn’t such a simple matter of faith anymore. Things weren’t lining up like they used to. Contradictions and lies. Misinterpretations. Did he feel like anyone was listening when he prayed?

Daniel caught his turmoil. “It’s fine. Let’s pretend I didn’t ask. Tell me something else. What do you do for fun?”

“I play games and repair various electronics. What about you?”

Daniel sighed, “Not a lot of fun in my life lately. But I’m a writer. Used to work for a newspaper, but I got dropped. Did some freelance. Even wrote a few books when I was younger. These days inspiration evades me.”

The words were steeped in defeat. Armand felt a pang of sympathy. He understood waning inspiration. The heavy loss of his early understanding of the Church. His growing ambivalence for arbitrary rules.

“Perhaps I can help you find it again.”

Daniel shook his head, “You got a ‘10 Steps to Writing A Hit Novel’ group in the basement too? Don’t think it’ll help.”

“No. I didn’t mean the church. Perhaps I can help.” Armand clarified.

Daniel stared at him for a long time, a forkful of pancake awkwardly stopped halfway to his mouth. “Why?”

“I enjoy talking to you.”

“What is this? Pity? You’re telling me you wanna hang out with a divorcee in his 40’s?”

“Yes. Don’t insult me by insinuating I have ulterior motives. I find you fascinating.”

Daniel gave him a strange look. “If you say so. I think between us, you’re the fascinating one, though. I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you.”

The softness grew a little stronger. Daniel kept munching on his food. Messy. Armand offered him several napkins in the process. He stopped the waitress from refilling Daniel’s coffee, much to his chagrin. From there Daniel seemed to loosen up. Talking more about his writing, his life, and his struggles. Armand listened intently, sifting through Daniel’s habits. His hand gestures, the angle of his smile, the constant hand through his curls when more sensitive topics came up. Armand wanted to reach out and give it a try, weave his fingers through Daniel’s hair and see what expression it would elicit. He tucked his hands under his legs. Don’t cross a line.

But the line blurred as the night went on. Daniel was tactile, patting Armand’s shoulder and gesturing wildly. He insisted Armand head home when he tried to hide a yawn.

“Come to the meeting next week,” Armand said at the door. He caught Daniel’s hand before he could run it through his hair again. “At least consider it.”

Daniel looked at Armand’s fingers around his wrist. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

***

Armand hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. Even during staff meetings and confession shifts, it was all Daniel. Every time the confession booth creaked open, he hoped it would be Daniel's voice filtering through the grate. It never was. Regret pooled up. Why didn’t he make a greater effort to ensure they’d meet again?

It was Sunday, enough time that Armand should be focused on other things. But his mind was a broken record. Skipping back to Daniel’s smile, his little quirks. Years of feeling lost culminating in a disproportionate longing. Armand didn’t want to be alone anymore. He enjoyed Daniel’s quips. His clever mind and infant desire to get better. He wanted to be there, to help in ways that went beyond religious duties.

Mass was starting. Armand finished greeting the devotees and rounded back to the edge of the stage. The Reverend had them stand off to the side to “observe” and “acclimate” to the idea of preaching. Armand felt that could be achieved just as easily while seated in the pews. His mind drifted throughout the service. Someone jabbed him with their elbow when Communion started. Armand hastily grabbed his tray of wafers and wine and stood on the first step to the dais.

The pews cleared and lines formed in front of each trainee. Armand was about to return to murmuring blessings while zoning out when he noticed someone still seated in the furthest bench, right at the edge by the door. Daniel. He almost dropped his tray. Daniel waved. Armand nodded, trying to communicate ‘why are you here’ through facial expressions. Daniel just smiled.

Armand tried to get through the rest of mass without staring, but his gaze kept straying. It didn’t help that Daniel was always already looking back at him. Armand hid his hands behind his back to worry at the hem of his shirt without drawing attention. He willed the minutes to go by faster, then promptly felt shame. That wasn’t what a true believer would say. A step too far even by his standards. He focused back on the sermon, on the Reverend's monotone voice.

When mass finally ended, he hurried towards the back, not wanting Daniel to slip away again. He stopped halfway because there Daniel was, already making his way over with a lovely smile. Armand felt the warmth in him double at the sight.

“Don’t get excited,” Daniel leaned against the wall, “I’m only here to see you.”

As if that wasn’t exciting. Really, it was significantly more exciting than the prospect of Daniel finding God in the last few days.

“It’s good to see you.” He wanted to reach out, but for what? A handshake felt too formal, like putting distance between them. He placed his hands in his pockets.

Daniel ducked his head for a moment before looking up. Was it a trick of the light or had his cheeks gone red? “At the diner you said I could go to you any time. And I realized the only way I can contact you is coming here. I don’t think that was intentional, but hey, maybe that’s your strategy to get more believers. Church-entrapment.”

Armand rolled his eyes, "Obviously not my intention.”

“I know,” Daniel winked at him. Armand was caught off guard by the sheer playfulness of it. He found himself stifling a laugh. “So I was wondering if there’s a way I can contact you.”

Armand kept the shock off his face at great effort. He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened a new contact, “I’ll text you, so you’ll have mine too.”

Daniel snapped a photo for his contact. “Not looking my best today, but it does the trick. You’ll need one too.”

“Oh,” Armand hastily took the phone back, examining the photo. That endearing crooked grin that had been haunting him, the slight stubble, his chest ached. He stopped himself from staring too long and sent over a text.

“Perfect,” Daniel said, holding up his phone for a photo. “Say ‘father, son, and holy spirit’.”

Armand tried to stop his laughter, but it was too late, the picture was done. Daniel grinned at his screen and showed him. Armand’s nose was scrunched up, eyes half closed. “That’s awful, take another.”

Daniel stashed his phone before Armand could paw at it. “Nah, it’s perfect. See you around?”

“Yes, any time.” Armand said. And then Daniel was leaving, filtering out amongst the remaining stragglers. Too soon. He wanted more. Armand pulled up the contact photo, letting himself examine every detail. Daniel had been thinking of him too. Perhaps he wasn’t so alone.

***

Daniel didn’t show up to mass again, but he returned every Wednesday for AA. Armand felt a burst of pride seeing him at the meetings. Was it his place to feel that? Surely they were at least friends now. Daniel’s contact photo popped up for late night phone calls. Texts graced his screen throughout the week. All leading up to the next time they’d meet in person. Seeing each other at meetings became habit. Serving Daniel his coffee, their fingers brushing. Daniel scowling through the meetings. Exploring the city together after. But the scowling was giving way to sharing as time went on.

Things settled into an easy comfortability. Armand felt the ground beneath him finally stop shaking. This fascinating, stranger turned companion was an anchor in a sea of confusion. There was no use in denying the steady warmth in his chest every time he thought of Daniel. Nearly constant, lately. Mind wandering during services, passing beige days until technicolor burst in.

Daniel received a sobriety chip for one week. He’d stared at it in his palm for the rest of the meeting and stashed it away in his jacket. Armand didn’t ask about it, let the moment belong to Daniel alone. He wasn’t sure exactly what Daniel’s sobriety plan was, but surely this was impressive progress. They went out for ice cream to celebrate and walked with no destination until they were dead on their feet and breathless from laughter. Daniel hugged him at the end of the night, whispering thank you’s against his neck. When he pulled away to head home, Armand felt the loss like an old wound. He lingered on it for days.

He thought about Daniel while preparing to sleep. Was there anything more he could do to ensure he knew Armand cared? Perhaps he should simply ask instead of getting caught up in thoughts. That was always his problem. Tying himself up in knots until he couldn’t move.

Armand was just finishing his curl routine when his phone lit up with a call. He scrambled over to it. “Hello, Daniel.”

“‘Mand,” the voice slurred. Armand felt a little crack in his heart. “Will you… could you… nevermind. Pretend I didn’t call.”

“Wait.” Relief washed over him when the line didn’t cut. “What do you need? Tell me, please.”

Daniel was silent. Just his heavy breathing coming through. “I don’t think I can get back to the hotel on my own.”

“Okay,” Armand grabbed his jacket. “Where are you?”

“Bar two blocks north of the church. You don’t gotta come,” Daniel muttered. “Shouldn’t have called.”

“Don’t say that,” Armand locked the door behind him. “I’ll be right there.”

Daniel hummed quietly. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Before Armand could refute the apology, the call ended. He hurried through the streets. His hair was damp and his pajama pants weren’t fit for the evening chill, but he hardly registered it. Worry was at the forefront of his mind. When he finally arrived, he saw Daniel from the window, slumped over while the bartender wiped down a glass. It was empty inside and the neon “open” sign was off. When he tried the door, it was locked. The bartender let him in.

“Here for Danny? He said someone was coming this time. Was starting to doubt it. Just get him out of here and home safe, yeah?”

Armand nodded. This must be one of Daniel’s frequent haunts if the bartender knew him. It wasn’t like the diner, though. Heavy wooden architecture. It reminded him of the confession booth. Daniel's eyes fluttered when Armand approached. He looked rough, worse than Armand had seen before.

“You came?” Daniel mumbled.

“Of course,” Armand guided him to stand. “Are you able to walk? I can call a cab.”

Daniel shook his head, “Can’t afford it and I won’t have you paying for me. Unless you prefer—”

“Walking is fine,” Armand interrupted. “Give me your arm.”

Daniel did as instructed. Armand linked their elbows and let Daniel lean against his side to keep steady. The smell of alcohol was thick in the air. Daniel mumbled directions as Armand did his best to keep him upright. There were a few stumbles along the way, but he ensured Daniel remained unscathed. When they were outside the hotel, Daniel tried to pull away. Armand kept his hold.

“What?” Daniel stared at their linked arms, pulling again. “Lemme go.”

“I’ll take you to the room.” Armand left no space for argument. Daniel said something unintelligible and pulled a key from his pocket, shoving it into Armand’s free hand and letting himself be guided again. Daniel had been avoiding his gaze the whole night, but seemed particularly dedicated to it in the quiet halls.

Once they were in the room, Armand sat Daniel on the edge of the bed. Things were scattered around. A sort of chaos that suited Daniel. Certainly a contrast from Armand’s place. He’d never quite gotten around to decorating. Daniel managed to put more personality into his temporary hotel stay. Notebooks and a laptop sat on the desk. Had he been writing again? Now wasn’t the time to ask.

“Thanks,” Daniel still wouldn’t look at him. “Get home and pretend this never happened. Please.”

Armand frowned. That wasn’t right. He wanted to stay, to make sure Daniel got some sleep and didn’t spiral further down. He wanted to care for him, nurse and protect. Where was that coming from? Tangled desires and yearning. He stepped towards the edge of the bed and gently pet Daniel’s hair. That was enough to make Daniel peer up at him, glassy-eyed. Armand asked, “You’re going to sleep like this?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Daniel’s voice was hoarse. “Taking too much of your time.”

“It’s alright,” Armand scratched gently at Daniel’s scalp. “I don’t mind.”

That seemed to ignite something feral in Daniel. He stood, dodging Armand’s hand and stumbling over to the little balcony. Armand followed, stepping into the brisk night air. Daniel leaned against the railing with his head in his hands.

“You should mind.” Daniel dug around in his pocket. He produced the sobriety chip. Resentment and anger filled his voice, “It’s all for fucking nothing. Couldn’t even manage another week.”

“Recovery isn’t a linear process.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Daniel spat. Armand stepped back and Daniel’s expression fell. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Go home. You don’t gotta subject yourself to this. To me.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Armand whispered.

“I know. This is how I get. And now I’m making it your problem.” Daniel pressed a hand against his head, stumbling and catching himself on the railing with the hand holding the chip. It made a clang against the metal. He opened his hand and stared at it. Then he threw it off the balcony. Armand reached out, but it was too late. He peered down, as if he’d be able to spot it so far away. Daniel was back to cradling his head in his hands.

“Come inside, it’s chilly.” Armand took one of Daniel’s wrists. “You need to wash up before you sleep.”

“Bad idea. I’ll slip and hit my head on the tiles,” Daniel didn’t shake off his grip, though.

“I’ll help,” Armand offered. Daniel looked at him, incredulous. “Does the bathroom have a tub?”

Daniel nodded. The fight was drained out of him. It was easy to sit him back on the bed while Armand locked the balcony door and ran a bath. Daniel stumbled in on his own. Armand instructed him to strip down to his boxers while he mixed soap into the water. Daniel did as told then stared at the bath, transfixed by the swirl of the bubbles. He got inside without protest when Armand asked.

Armand handed him a washcloth, “Do what you can manage. I’ll handle your hair. Don’t drown while I’m away.”

He dragged in the desk chair and perched on the edge. It was an awkward angle, but he would make it work. Daniel lazily ran the cloth over his chest before laying it over the side of the tub. Drowsiness was setting in rapidly. He sank a bit lower into the water. Armand lathered shampoo through his curls, scratching gently and making sure no stray suds ran into Daniel’s eyes.

“Too good,” Daniel muttered. “Don’t deserve it.”

Armand paused his washing to press a palm against Daniel’s cheek. His heart clenched when Daniel leaned into the touch. “It’s not about what you deserve. I want to help, to make sure you’re okay tonight.”

“Why?” Daniel’s eyes were red.

“I care about you,” Armand said. He took a glass from next to the sink and filled it with clean water. When he poured it over Daniel’s hair, he used his other hand to shield Daniel’s eyes. He repeated the process until the last of the shampoo was washed away. A couple tears escaped down Daniel’s cheeks. Armand drained the bathwater and gently wiped away the tracks with a fresh cloth. He left Daniel in the empty tub with a towel and returned to the bathroom with suitable pajamas he’d dug out of an open suitcase.

Armand handed over the clothes before closing the door between them. He waited until Daniel knocked from inside to open it again. The weight of the night was clear in every line of Daniel, but he seemed a little better. Armand led him to the bed. After some squirming, he was under the covers, laying on his side. Armand sat at the edge of the mattress and watched for a while. Daniel was asleep in seconds, nuzzling his pillow. He looked peaceful, resting finally.

Armand stood, but was caught by a sound as Daniel shifted. What else was there to do besides pet through Daniel’s damp curls until he settled again?

“Sleep well,” he whispered before shutting off the lights. When Armand left the room, he leaned against the door and pressed his eyes closed. Part of him didn’t want to leave at all. But Daniel didn’t need a babysitter and it was not the time to discuss it. He forced himself out of the hotel.

Sleep was evasive. He kept waking to check if Daniel called again. Of course he hadn’t. Still asleep, surely. When morning finally came, there was still nothing. Armand went through the motions, attended to his duties as the church. Still, Daniel didn’t reach out. It made Armand uneasy. One night turned into two, then three. Should he call first? What if Daniel really didn’t want to talk about it?

The nagging fear that he’d crossed a line and ruined things haunted him. He found himself considering his own sins in the confession booth that week, simply reading off the script in his head as people sat on the other side. It was late, but he hadn’t been paying attention to the Church bells. Surely, he was meant to leave soon. The other door creaked open, ah not yet. He waited for the newcomer to speak. His patience was thin.

“Hello,” he said. “Is this your first time? Typically, you begin by sharing what brings you here today.”

There was a relieved sigh. “It’s you.”

“Daniel?” Armand tried to peer through the grate. He could only make out a shadowy silhouette. “You don’t have to speak to me in here.”

“It might be easier,” Daniel muttered. “I’m really sorry.”

Armand scoffed and shoved out of the box. He pulled open the other door.

“Now that’s gotta be super not allowed,” Daniel stared at him with wide eyes.

“And we’ve established that I don’t particularly care. Come sit out here.” Armand gestured to the pews.

Daniel shuffled out, sitting next to Armand, leaving a person’s worth of space between them. “Look, I’m not here for pity. If anything I’m just embarrassed. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“Perhaps you don’t recall, but I said I don’t mind. I did everything of my own volition. And it wasn’t out of pity, for the record. It was out of care.” Armand cut Daniel off before he could protest. “I’ll be offended if you claim I’m lying. Is that what you think of me?”

“No,” Daniel said sheepishly. “I’m just not used to that. Someone caring.”

“Well, get used to it then.” Armand took a deep breath. He was coming on too strong. “We first met, for real, at an alcoholics anonymous meeting. I’m not a child, I know what that means and what struggles come with it. I choose to spend time with you, to extend my help and support knowing that.”

Daniel opened his mouth and closed it a few times. Probably catching denials before Armand could glare at him about it. He settled on, “Okay. So things between us are…”

“The same,” Armand finished. “Contact me anytime. I want to help. I enjoy your company.”

“Right,” Daniel nodded as if convincing himself. He was quiet for a while, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “The offer applies to you too, you know? If you ever need anything. I’m probably not gonna handle shit as well as you do. But I’ll do what I can.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hypocrisy reeled in him. He didn’t want to put his struggles on Daniel. That unbearable weight felt like it was his to bear, alone. He knew that was the same argument he’d disavowed in Daniel. Shameful inconsistency.

They talked a bit longer. Daniel was working on a new novel, a memoir. He’d been writing a section about his daughters when he spiralled. Armand scooted closer on the bench, so their legs touched. When the bells tolled the end of confession, Daniel bumped their shoulders together before saying goodbye.

Armand felt lighter as he went through closing duties. The lights were still on in the office. He startled when he found the Reverend there. Strange for him to be around so late.

“Ah, Armand,” he said. “I saw you speaking with someone upstairs and didn’t want to interrupt. I noticed an error in the schedules. It seems you’ve been helping with AA when you should have been cycling through other tasks.”

“Oh,” Armand kept his expression under control and put the right amount of surprise into his tone, “I hadn’t realized. I do enjoy it, though. Could I help out anyway?”

The Reverend raised an eyebrow, “I don’t see why not. Can I ask why you were outside of the booth during confession?”

“Apologies,” Armand clasped his hands behind his back. “Daniel is a friend that stopped by.”

“A friend.” The Reverend repeated. He stared at Armand for an agonizing minute. “Why don’t you go home. I’ll lock up here.”

Armand nodded and made a quick exit. The whole interaction sat uneasy in his chest. He shoved it aside. Daniel and him were on the same page again. There was no need to focus on the usual strangeness of the church. Things were good.

***

A phone call woke Armand up. He pawed at the nightstand and glanced at his alarm clock. 5AM. He scrambled to answer. What if Daniel needed something? Days had passed since they last met in person. He’d been texting, but what if Daniel was holding back and needed support?

“Ciao, angelo mio.”

Armand’s blood ran cold. “Marius.”

“Apologies for waking you, it must be early there. It’s easy to forget the time difference, isn’t it? I’ve been worried about you. You stopped replying to my letters.”

“I’ve been busy,” Armand sat up, mind racing.

“I know,” Marius tutted. “I heard you’ve been running around with a stranger.”

No. Marius couldn’t know about Daniel. How could he know? Armand took a deep breath. He recalled his conversation with the Reverend. Had he reported back to Marius? Anger pooled in his gut. He shoved it down. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t disrespect me. That’s very unfaithful of you. It kills me to think what ideas have been put in your head over there. Perhaps I should bring you back.”

Under no circumstances. Marius’ hold was stragulation. He would not go back. “That’s not your choice. I like it here.”

Marius sighed, “You’re lost; being led astray. That man, the drunkard, is not a good influence. I taught you better than associating with sinners.”

“Sinners?” Armand gripped his phone tight. “Aren’t we meant to guide ‘sinners’ to the right path? Isn’t God all-forgiving and all-loving? Or is that only when you say so?”

“Silence,” Marius snapped. Armand winced, holding the phone away from his ear. “I know best. I’ve always led you to the righteous path, towards heaven. And you would throw that all away? Become a blasphemous fool trailing after a mistake? That man is a disgrace to God.”

“How would you know that?” Armand snarled, “Are you God? Do you make the rules?”

“Incorrigible child!” Marius yelled. “Do you know what you’re saying? Do you want to go to Hell?”

“I am not a child. I haven’t been for a long time. You have no say over what I do or who I spend time with.” Armand ended the call in the middle of Marius’ next scolding. He blocked the number, threw his phone, and fisted in the sheets, rubbing the fabric between his fingers.

After so long, this is what Marius wanted to speak about? After leading Armand to believe lies and sending him out, sheltered and unprepared? Despicable that he presumed to have any sort of say in Armand’s life. And to think he was being watched this whole time… Reported on like some sort of lost animal. Armand seethed. It was still so early. There was nowhere to put the anger.

He grabbed the Bible in his nightstand and glared at the tabs sticking out from the pages. All the notes he’d furiously taken as Marius paced at the front of a classroom. He flipped to a random passage, marked with notes and post-it’s in Marius’ calligraphy. Samuel 15:3. The genocide of the Amalekites. Armand remembered his confusion then, his questions. He remembered the correction too. The slaps of a ruler on his wrists and secret punishments he’d promised to never speak of. Extra classes that ran late into the night. Just the two of them, while Marius explained that the Amalekites were beyond saving. That killing them was a mercy, a show of God’s love. Repeating that over and over until it stuck.

Armand tore out the page. It didn’t line up. But he’d known Marius was wrong for years now. His church, though, the home he’d known since then, was meant to be different. The Reverend hadn’t had the same argument when Armand asked about the Amalekites. He said it was all hyperbole. The Reverend wasn’t meant to align with Marius, to be on his side. Surely, Armand was wrong. Marius had other ways to keep an eye on him, money to throw around. But who else could it be? He’d been isolated for years now, only confiding in the Reverend. Betrayal rotted in his chest.

There were still hours before the church opened. Armand flipped through his Bible, tearing out pages and shredding them into a pile on the floor. He didn’t want this stained thing from Marius or its annotated falsehoods resting next to him any longer.

When it was finally waking hours, Armand swept the shreds into a bag, tossing the remains of Marius’ defiled book in with them. He dropped it in the dumpster as he made his way to the church. He pushed open the doors and went right back to the office. Of course the Reverend wasn’t there. Not when Armand wanted to speak to him. Armand sifted through the desk, scanning for any sign of contact with Marius. Nothing. So much useless clutter and nothing of note. Another one of the trainees arrived, shocked at Armand’s rifling. He couldn't bring himself to care, leveling the man with a glare. No amount of searching satisfied him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Only speaking to the Reverend would help. He forced himself to carry out his duties. Preparing the basement for the next event, checking inventory, and attending a class with a lecturer from seminary school. It reminded him of lessons with Marius. Armand let his thoughts wander. This was pointless. The day was wasting away and he still hadn’t caught sight of the Reverend. All his emotions were twisted up, struggling against each other. He needed to find the string that would unravel it, unravel himself.

He stayed later than he was meant to, mindlessly shifting chairs around in the basement until another trainee poked his head in to let him know the Reverend had arrived. Finally. Armand took a deep breath before moving. Fear clung to him with every step. If it was true, if Marius had been pulling his strings from afar all this time… what did it mean? This church that confounded him for so long was still the place he knew best. He’d grown to know the people after greeting them countless Sundays. His entire life led to this. If it was all based on lies…

The Reverend looked up from writing a sermon, “Armand, I heard you were still here. Isn’t it time for you to head home?”

“Have you spoken to my—to Marius.” Armand hated the pitying look that crossed the man’s face. Don’t say it. Don’t make it true. He knew it was over the second the Reverend opened his mouth.

“Yes, but don’t be angry. He’s been worried about you being so far from home. Did he speak to you about Daniel?” Such a patronizing tone, like Armand was a child.

“He called Daniel a sinner.” Armand crossed his arms, hugging himself to keep from rocking on his heels. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because everyone is born in God’s light. And he’s not… he’s a good person. I hear what people tell me during confession. He is far better than most members of the congregation. I don’t understand why Marius cares.”

“Armand,” the Reverend stood and placed a hand on his shoulder, “you’re not just another devotee. You’re training to be a priest. A true man of God. Sure, Daniel might be no different than average people. But that’s not who we are. It’s not a good look for one us to be with… him.”

The words pierced him. “Is that what you truly believe? That we’re so much better than the people that sit in the pews? That because you get to stand up on a platform and speak at them, it means something? Aren’t we supposed to help people? I thought that was the point! That’s what you preach! Charity and kindness and grace!”

“Calm down,” the Reverend’s grip tightened. “Marius sent you to my congregation. You’re still learning. Take the day off and come back when your head’s on straight. And stay away from that man. If you must go off galavanting with strangers, find a nice woman of the church instead.”

Armand shoved away from the awful grip. His eyes stung. “Is that truly what you believe? That I cannot be holy unless I contort myself into your limited image of God? Unless I marry and have 2.5 kids and take your job lying to people, our community?”

“You’re being dramatic,” the Reverend gestured to the door. “Perhaps you were never holy to begin with if you don’t see what I’m trying to tell you. Go home. If you can’t respect your elders then perhaps you shouldn't return at all.”

It landed like a slap. “You’d cast me out?”

The Reverend glared at him. “Go home and think about what you’re doing.”

Armand tried to keep the tears from falling as he rushed outside. It was no use. They were already pouring down his cheeks. He let his hair fall in front of his face, masking his unravelling as the emotions churned and curdled into an awful bitterness. Nothing made sense when he was shipped off from the Palazzo in Italy. The dissonance in every interpretation of the bible, the feeling of being unmoored and abandoned. And they had the gall to tell him that he’d been led astray when they were the ones to betray him?

When he got home, he tore off his collar, struggling out of his clothes and into softer, comfier fabrics. His entire life was built on living in God’s image. But how was he to know who was right? Marius? The Reverend? His own conceptions that laid in shambles at his feet? They thought Daniel was a sinner. That he was a problem. How could that be, when he was the only thing that made Armand feel stable? They should have been happy for Armand, happy that he was helping someone in need.

Was he in the wrong? A small voice in the back of his mind repeated “perhaps you were never holy to begin with”. It stung like an old wound. Armand buried himself under his blankets. He pressed his face into the pillow, letting his tears stain the fabric. Marius had called him angelo mio since they met. He’d treated Armand like a precious porcelain doll, dressing him up, and setting him right with the promise that he would one day be beloved of God. Amadeo, he’d said while petting Armand’s hair, listen to me and all will be well.

Armand didn’t want to listen. They were wrong, they had to be. Daniel was lovely, the sweetest man who was trying so hard to get better. Yet they would abandon Armand for caring about him. If the church didn’t have his back, who did?

Daniel. There was no one he trusted like Daniel.

He grabbed his phone, but froze over the call button. Armand was never the one to reach out for help. Daniel said he could but… what if it ruined the image of Armand that existed in his head? The thought of spoiling Daniel’s affection warred with longing to just hear his voice. But there was no alternative. Prayer would only feel stale. He pressed his eyes closed and hit call.

“Hey,” There was a faint sound of typing in the background. “Give me a second to finish this sentence.”

“Okay,” Armand’s voice wobbled. The typing stopped.

“Armand?” Daniel said. “Is something wrong?”

“I…” Armand took a shuddering breath. “Are you free? Could you come over?”

“Yeah,” Daniel answered immediately. There was a hint of surprise mixed with the obvious concern. “Send me your address. Don’t worry, honey, I’ll be right there.”’

Armand clung to that “honey” as he waited. It was so much better than angelo. Tears dribbled down to his chin. He wrapped a blanket over his shoulders and wiped away what he could manage. Then he sat in front of the door, waiting. He couldn’t tell how much time passed before there was a gentle knock. Rising to open it felt like a trial. Daniel was holding a paper bag in one hand. His eyes roved over Armand, brow knitting in concern.

“I brought food from the diner,” Daniel held it up. He was breathing roughly, like he’d rushed over. “Sorry it took a bit longer. I thought you might want to stay in.”

The care of it made another wave of tears wash over Armand. He hid his face in the blanket. Daniel hurried inside, setting the bag on the floor and closing the door. He bundled Armand into his arms and stroked a hand along his back.

“Apologies,” Armand forced the words out. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your writing.”

“I don’t care about that,” Daniel wiped at Armand’s tears when he finally unfurled from the blanket. “What happened?”

Thinking about it hurt. Armand couldn’t help the wretched sound that tore from him. How did he put the unraveling into words?

“It’s okay,” Daniel whispered, pulling him into a tighter embrace. “You don’t gotta tell me now. Wanna eat? We can watch one of the movies you like.”

Armand nodded, “That would be nice.”

“Good,” Daniel squeezed him again. “Get comfy on the couch and I’ll handle everything else. Is Blade Runner okay? I know you like that one.”

“Yes,” Armand muttered. He wasn’t even sure Daniel heard. But then he was being nudged towards the couch. Sounds of cabinets being opened and closed filtered in from the kitchen. Daniel hadn’t been to his home before. Armand felt the need to help him, but couldn’t find the energy to get back up. He waited, sniffling, until Daniel returned with two plates of pancakes. Before Armand could say anything, he’d scurried off to grab glasses of water and a tissue box. Daniel looked around, spotting the shelf of DVDs to one side of the TV and kneeled to slot the Blade Runner disk into the player.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Daniel shuffled over. “Wanna have space or no?”

Another endearment. It took a second before Armand realized what he was asking. “Sit close, please.”

“Got it,” Daniel left no room between them. He guided Armand to lay on his shoulder and navigated through the DVD menu. Armand felt a little better. He knew this, the dialogue and story beats washing over him in perfect familiarity. He leaned further into Daniel, who offered tissues when the tears got out of hand again.

Daniel was quiet. Armand could tell he wasn’t fully focused on the movie. He had an arm over the back of the couch behind Armand where his fingers were tapping out an irregular rhythm. Armand freed one of his hands from the blanket to pull Daniel’s down into the cocoon. He felt along the callouses trying to memorize the shape, the feel of it in his grasp.

“Thank you for calling me,” Daniel said during a quiet scene. “It means a lot that you trust me to help you too.”

“I trust you more than anyone,” Armand muttered. Daniel turned to look at him, expression soft. It made Armand’s heart ache. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s an honor to take care of you. So don’t think you owe me or that I’m not here by choice.” Daniel jumped at a gunshot onscreen. His plate clattered against the floor and he scrambled to pick it up. Armand laughed. It came out ragged, but Daniel smiled, settling close again. This time he took the initiative to join their hands. Armand emerged from his blanket a bit so he could get closer to Daniel, really laying against his comforting warmth. Daniel tentatively brought a hand to his hair, running his fingers through it. Armand pressed into the touch.

They stayed like that until the credits rolled. Armand could sense unease building in Daniel, coming to a head now as he took a deep breath.

“Ready to talk about it?” Daniel asked.

It was difficult to peel himself away so they could sit face to face. The sun had long since set, and the apartment was only bathed in the faint glow of the TV credits. It was hard to make out Daniel’s expression. “I learned that the Reverend has been spying on me and reporting back to my… guardian. I haven’t spoken to him in years. We attended a Catholic church back in Italy, but when I arrived here, I realized that he is far more evangelical than I thought. He called to scold me.”

“Ah,” Daniel's shoulders slumped. “Can’t imagine that went well. But I mean, you’re you. What could you possibly do to piss him off?”

Armand bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to offend Daniel. “You know well enough that I don’t always act ‘priestly’.”

The lie felt like acid on his tongue. He swallowed it down. Daniel didn’t need to know what they thought of him. It would do nothing but hurt both of them. Besides, Armand didn’t want to repeat the words. They’d been echoing in his head enough already.

“And what? They just decided now was the perfect time for an intervention, after years of no contact?” Armand stayed quiet. Daniel was too smart for his own good. The clever journalist, hunting down the truth. “It was about me, wasn’t it? They don’t want you around me.”

“Yes,” Armand admitted quietly. “They think you’re a bad influence.”

“I mean, that’s not entirely inaccurate.” Daniel sighed. “I don’t give a shit what they think. Only you. So as long as you don’t think I’m some hell-bound heathen, it’s okay right?”

“I think you’re wonderful.” Armand gripped the edge of his blanket. “But it’s not that simple. Marius has more power over my church than I realized. The Reverend threatened to kick me out.”

“Really?” Daniel didn’t sound that surprised. “Over this? That’s a new low for the church, even by my standards.”

“I fear that Marius is going to visit.” Armand suppressed a shudder at the thought. He didn’t want to fall apart again, not when Daniel had so carefully put him back together. “He might try and take me back to Italy. But I’m no longer his little angelo. He can’t force me. But the church, if they were to remove me, then what would I have? I’ve spent my entire life studying for this. I don’t know anything else.”

“Well there’s other churches, right? And if you need advice on being out of a job, I’ve got a shit-ton,” Daniel stood, finding a lamp to flick on. Armand winced at the sudden light. He had a point. “I can’t really relate to what you’re feeling. I never believed in God, even when I was little. But I bet it’s not the end of the world. And you don’t gotta figure it out tonight.”

“That’s true,” Armand took Daniel’s hand when he offered it, letting himself be pulled off the couch. “Thank you.”

“No need,” Daniel smiled. “You can call any time, baby.”

Yet another endearment. Armand followed as Daniel made his way towards the door. No, that wouldn’t do. Being alone now would be torture. He reached out to tap Daniel’s shoulder as he crouched to grab his shoes. “Would you stay?”

Daniel froze, looking up at him. His eyes roved over Armand’s face. A faint smile took over when he concluded that Armand was serious, “I mean if you’re offering, I’d never say no to more time with you.”

“I’ll find you pajamas.” Armand hurried away. He’d caught himself off guard with the offer, but relief rushed through him. Daniel wasn’t leaving and that was all that mattered. He handed over a set of clothes and Daniel went to prepare for bed. When he returned, Armand’s heart clenched at the sight of him. There, in Armand’s clothes, looking like it’s where he belonged.

“Do you have sheets for the couch?” Daniel yawned.

“Oh, I thought we would share the bed.” Armand felt stupid for assuming. “Unless you’d prefer to—”

“Sharing is good,” Daniel said. His cheeks had gone a little pink.

Armand hurried through his night routine. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a little too long. His face was puffy from crying, hair a mess. Daniel had seen it, held him, and stayed. Every awful aspect of the day was still lurking, threatening to send him into another spiral, but the steady warmth was there too. Strong enough to make everything else feel small in comparison.

When he returned to the bedroom, Daniel was sitting against the headboard, blankets pulled up to his waist. He’d taken a book from the night stand and was leafing through it. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than earlier.” Armand settled under the covers, laying on his side and facing Daniel. “How about you?”

Daniel smiled, setting aside the book and sliding down to mirror Armand. “I’m great. Got to spend the night with you.”

“All I did was cry,” Armand pointed out. Then quieter, “I might again. I used to have nightmares, when I was younger. About being corrected. About him.”

“I’ll be here,” Daniel shuffled a bit closer, brushing a curl out of Armand’s face. “You don’t gotta be scared.”

He felt Daniel’s breath ghost his skin. Armand closed his eyes and reached out, gently tugging at Daniel’s shirt, hoping he got the message. And, like always, he did. Daniel shimmied until they were sharing the same pillow, noses brushing. He tossed a leg over Armand and smiled. “Cuddles come free, you can just ask, honey.”

“You keep doing that. Calling me nice things.”

Daniel winced, “Oh. It just slips out, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Armand said. “I like it.

“Do you?” Daniel had an almost pleading look on his face. Like a lost puppy. “Names like that suit you. Baby, honey, sweetheart. A thousand more that I’m too tired to think of.”

It was too much, all that warmth. It needed somewhere to go. Too much for one person, but Armand didn’t need to keep it on his own. Daniel would hold it gladly, wouldn’t he?

“My sweet boy,” Armand whispered, rubbing their noses together. Daniel’s breath caught. He cradled Armand’s neck as he ducked lower, pressing their lips together. Armand leaned into it on instinct, parting his lips, inviting. Daniel responded beautifully, kissing him like something precious. Not a fragile doll or a puppet with its strings cut, but something to be cared for exactly as it was. Warmth cherished between them.

Armand delighted in the little sounds Daniel made. This was lovely, holy. It had to be. But then why had so many people tried to convince him otherwise? He tried to shove down the torrent inside him. The bubbling memories of his childhood, the fear Daniel had so carefully quelled. It was never truly gone, hadn’t left him his entire life. This was not the time for it. Daniel pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, pressing them together as if he wanted to merge them into one being. But the dread was still there. Unholy.

What if Marius found out? Surely it wouldn’t just be Armand in trouble. What if they didn’t let Daniel attend AA anymore? He’d been doing so well lately, sharing and opening up. Daniel even arrived early to talk to some of the other members. This was going to set him back. Set them both back.

Armand froze. It would be his fault. He flipped to face the other way without warning, getting as close to the edge of the bed as he could. This was a mistake.

“Hey,” Daniel said. “You okay?”

The question registered distantly. Armand wrapped the blanket tighter around himself.

“Do you want me to leave?” Daniel asked. Armand shook his head, not bothering to turn around. “Okay… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

He waited, as if Armand could find words right now. Everything had unfurled, the picture becoming clear. This was bad. Armand was being bad, and he didn’t want to be corrected. Worst of all, he didn’t want Daniel to be corrected.

Daniel muttered a curse. “I shouldn’t have, I got the wrong idea. I won’t do it again. Please talk to me.”

Armand stayed entirely still. Daniel sighed. The bed shifted and the lights went out. Armand focused on the sound of Daniel’s breathing. It took a long time before it evened out. Only then he turned around to watch the rise and fall of Daniel’s chest. It was for his well-being. Armand carefully traced over his cheek.

“I’m sorry Daniel,” Armand whispered. “I’m the one that led you astray.”

***

Armand had left a note for Daniel on the pillow. He woke up first, careful to keep quiet as he dressed for the day. He lingered to watch Daniel sleep, there was no one to witness it and report it back to Marius. Why not allow himself one last look? He wrote that Daniel should lock the door and leave the keys under the mat. He hurried off to the church.

It was far too early for the front to be unlocked, but there was a door on the side, one that led to the basement. He used a credit card to shift the latch and let himself in, heading straight for the crucifix and collapsing into a prayer.

When the Reverend arrived later, he was still kneeling. It hadn’t made him feel any better.

“Have you reflected, child?”

Armand nodded. “I won’t see him again.”

“Very good. I’ll let Marius know immediately. I knew you’d understand. You’re a man of God after all.”

Time passed strangely after that. Days blending together. There was nothing to look forward to. The services felt disingenuous. How much of it did the Reverend believe? How much disgust was masked behind his smile as he shook the congregation’s hands? Worst of all, Armand didn’t believe a single word anymore. He tried to will things back to the way they were before. That ignorance had been blissful, hadn’t it? Why couldn’t he find it again?

Of course Daniel texted, called. Armand let the notifications pile up. This was for Daniel’s good. He needed to be far from Armand and the chaos he could wrought. That chaos that had lived in him since he was a child. The early years, the ones kept blurry, threatened to make themselves known. He was chaos and only God would save him. That’s what Marius had taught him, wasn’t it?

A letter arrived for him. Wax-sealed and left directly in front of his door. He didn’t need to look at the return address to know who it was from. Marius, who couldn’t take a hint. He sat in the kitchen and stared at it. Was it worth opening? A scolding or praise this time? Something was simmering inside him. He cracked the seal.

Dearest Amadeo, for you are once again beloved of God, I am overjoyed to hear you have seen reason. I worried when you stopped replying to my letters, but you’ve come back to me, to God. Sending you there, where sin tempts and hell beckons, was always a risk. But you have passed every trial. I wasn’t sure you would, you were always an untamed child. I see it now, though. It’s time for you to return to me. No longer the lost Armand, but the heavenly Amadeo. Return to Italy, where your Maestro waits with open arms. Come to receive my care, dearest angelo. As always, I know what is right for you.

The simmer in him turned to a boil. He loathed the signature at the end. The pompousness in every line. How dare he abandon Armand and then demand him back? Claim that all of this had been some sort of test to see what Armand would do?. Perhaps you were never holy to begin with. Had those been the Reverend’s words or was he just parroting Marius? To think that all those promises of heaven had been made without faith… That Marius had never once believed Armand could be holy until now. He put the letter in his blender, letting it run as he snatched up his phone and sat on the couch. How dare Marius write out the word “care” when he’d so entirely conflated it with control? And calling Armand lost when it was all his fault? Such disgusting vanity.

The noise from the blender was comforting, the subtle buzz of it on the other side of the apartment. Armand pulled up his voicemails. Ten from Daniel. He opened the first one.

“Hey,” Daniel’s voice was haggard. The ache of missing him hit like a tidal wave. “About last night. It’s on me. And I’m still sorry. What was I even thinking? You called me to support you during a shitty time. And I went and… I can’t read a fucking room, can I? But… I’m hoping that’s not it for us, you know? I can do friends, I want to. Anything at all. Just, give me a call back, okay?”

There were a few more with similar content. Apologies and pleas to speak again. The third one started with ten seconds of silence.

“Hi.” Daniel said flatly. “I know you don’t want to talk to me. Still, I want to talk to you. All the time. But especially now. This whole thing has got me… not well. And you know what the crazy part is? I haven’t had a single drink. I don’t know how I’m managing that. I went to a bar last night, ready to forget life, and you know what I did? I ordered a fucking glass of water and some fries. Because I just kept thinking, ‘what if he calls’. You might not care, but I wanted to tell you. That’s all really. Call me back?”

Armand gripped the phone to his chest. His Daniel. His courageous boy. He listened silently through the next few messages. All little updates on Daniel’s days. Similar texts too, talking about parks and writing and anything at all. He played the most recent message, from the previous day night.

“I’ve been listening to what Judith said. About needing support. And, not to be a prick, but you were all I had. So I outsourced. My old college roommate lives in town. I’m gonna meet up with him and his fiance tonight. Didn’t even know he was getting married. And you would think being confronted with marriage would hurt after getting divorced. But it doesn’t really, not anymore. Not since meeting you. But you don’t gotta worry about me anymore, okay? I’m… figuring things out. So if you want me out of your life, then I’m—Ah fuck, Louis’ calling. Just, thank you. And I hope you’re doing better now.”

The message ended and Armand was left with the faint buzz of the blender. He opened Daniel’s contact to look at the picture. Every part of him ached. This was care. Neither of them forced the other to believe in something. Guidance, gentleness, acceptance. He hit the call button.

He frowned as the rings went on. Too long. Why wasn’t Daniel picking up? He tried again, cutting off the voicemail before it recorded. Had Daniel moved past him already? Was one night out with old friends enough for that? A different kind of anger reared its head. No. Daniel didn’t get to do that. So Armand had avoided him for a bit, what did that matter? He was reaching out now. What about all those messages telling him to ‘call back’. He was trying to!

Armand marched into the kitchen and stopped the blender. He dumped the shreds out the window, watching them flutter down. Let Marius be himself. Let him grow angry enough to come collect Armand, only to be met with defiance. He was “untamed” wasn’t he? Why not live up to it?

He continued calling and texting Daniel, growing more offended with every unanswered attempt. As the day went on, it melted into dejection. By the next morning, things toppled right into concern. Had Daniel gone out to drink? Was he passed out in a ditch somewhere? If he was simply ghosting Armand, it was cruel. Daniel Molloy was many things, but cruel was not one of them.

The church was expecting him in an hour. He dressed in his collared shirt, making sure the fabric was tucked evenly into his pants. This was no time for messing around. He’d come to a realization. Everything was utter bullshit except Daniel Molloy. He hurried to the church, brushing past the other trainees and kneeling in front of the crucifix. His hands were shaking as he folded them together.

“Dear God,” Armand raised his eyes, “I’ve had doubts for some time now.”

The entire world stilled. He’d spoken quietly, so no one else heard. The moment felt sacred. Not because of the church or because God was in the room. It was sacred within himself.

“I can no longer serve you. Not here. Certainly not like this. Maybe you’re real. Maybe you’re listening and sent Daniel to bring me back to you. I don’t know, and I don’t think it matters, does it? Why should I align myself to this place? To men like my wretched maestro? I was not made for this, I was sculpted into it. And I choose to break free from the cast. I thought you should be the first to know.” Armand closed his eyes and inhaled. “I resign from my position. Effective immediately.”

His hands still shook as he pulled a folded paper from his pocket. Some combination of dread and anticipation sparked in him, but no traces of regret. He stomped into the office and threw the paper on the Reverend’s desk.

“I resign.” Armand enjoyed the look of shock on his face. “You can tell Marius to go fuck himself.”

The Reverend sputtered, “What? Where is this coming from? Don’t curse in the Lord’s house. Come, sit. Let’s discuss this.”

“No,” Armand leaned over the desk, glaring down at him. “I don’t answer to men like you. Maybe I answer to God, but I couldn’t tell you because I was never given a chance to know Him. Always under ‘maestro’s’ care and then your spying eyes. Having things forced down my throat. I make my own choices now, form my own beliefs. And what I believe in right now is Daniel Molloy, a man you could only dream to live up to. So I resign and you will not fight me on it or try to contact me again. Understood?”

“Armand, please—”

“I’m done.” Armand turned away. “Instead of worrying about me, perhaps you should think about whether or not you’ll get into heaven. Now if you’ll stop trying to have the last word, I have someone to find.”

***

The hotel staff were the most incompetent, useless, infuriating people he’d ever met.

“I’m not some random stranger! I know his name, his birthdate, what else could you possibly need from me!” Armand gripped the edge of the counter. “Just let me speak with him. Or call and tell him I’m here. It’s important.”

The receptionist stared at him. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong! My Daniel has dropped off the grid and you’re not letting me ensure he is okay! Let me in at once!” Armand demanded.

“Security has already been called.” The receptionist glanced to the side where a large man was walking towards them. “If you don’t leave, we’ll call the police.”

“This is ridiculous!” Armand snatched his arm back when the guard reached out. “Don’t touch me. I’ll go on my own, but I’m leaving your business an absolutely scathing review!”

He stormed outside, slamming the door behind him. Armand had already been to all of Daniel’s favorite places, the ones they visited together. There was no sign of him. If he wasn’t in the hotel, Armand truly wouldn’t be able to find him. And the staff wouldn’t help. He glared at the building. His gaze tracked up towards the balcony he knew was Daniel’s. Fifth story. There was a jacket draped over a chair there. That had to mean Daniel was still staying in the hotel.

Armand considered his options. The receptionist would hardly allow him back inside. Perhaps he could find a side entrance or pretend to be a staff member. He glanced down at his collared shirt. Perhaps not. He stared up at the balcony and took a deep breath.

“Daniel Molloy!” He yelled as loud as he could manage. “Daniel, you haven’t been answering your phone and I am concerned for your well-being! Answer me immediately!”

He waited to see if the door would slide open. Nothing. But he swore he saw a flash of movement through the glass, distorted in the glare of the sun.

“Daniel!” Armand shouted. “Come talk to me! Daniel Molloy I know you’re up there!”

He continued yelling Daniel’s name. It was starting to hurt his throat. The security guard peeked out from the hotel, giving him an unimpressed look. Armand almost broke into another tirade, but he caught movement above. The balcony door slid open.

Daniel craned his neck to look outside through the tiny gap he made, half dressed and pulling a shirt on as he went. He squinted in the morning light. Relief flooded Armand. Daniel was okay. Maybe half-asleep, but all in one piece.

“Finally!” Armand shouted. “I’m down here!”

“Armand? What the fuck?” Daniel stepped out onto the balcony. His eyes were wide as he leaned over the railing. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I've come to see you. I have something to tell you and you wouldn’t answer your phone.” Armand’s neck hurt with the strain of looking up.

Daniel winced, “Lestat threw it in a pond when I tried to text you for the ninth time.”

Armand frowned, “Who’s Lestat?”

“Louis fiance—it doesn’t matter,” Daniel ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell could you possibly want to talk about to warrant all this?”

“Come here and find out,” Armand yelled, crossing his arms. “Unless you enjoy communicating like this.”

Daniel looked from side to side, noting the small crowd of onlookers Armand was pointedly ignoring. This wasn’t about them. Daniel said something too quiet to make out before his eyes landed on Armand again. “I’ll be right there.”

It took far too long. Really, couldn’t Daniel sense the urgency of the situation? When he finally ran out onto the sidewalk, Armand felt every part of himself light up. He missed him so much. His lovely Daniel and his messy curls. Those lovely steaks of grey shining in the sunlight. The haphazard way he’d thrown together a passable outfit before leaving the room, shoes untied.

“Are you okay?” Daniel breathed hard. “Shit, I might need a second. Elevator was taking too long, so I took the stairs.”

“You cannot have a second, this is important.” Armand said, steeling himself. “I resigned from my position at the church.”

Daniel’s whole body reacted to that, “What? Why?”

“It’s built on lies and deception and I can no longer bear it. I gave my official resignation to the Reverend this morning. I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“I’ve just been here,” Daniel gestured behind them. “You didn’t have to do all this. I mean I appreciate the dramatics and all… but wow.”

“It was necessary, the front desk was refusing to help me.” Armand pouted.

Daniel burst into laughter, “What did you do to them? Do I need to find a new place to stay.”

“Doesn’t matter, you can stay with me.” Armand gripped Daniel’s shoulders. “My sweet boy, I must apologize. I got caught up in the past, in everything I’ve been taught. And I let you think you did something wrong all this time. I’m sorry. I was lost and scared, but you have always been there for me. I cannot thank you enough.”

“It’s no trouble,” Daniel shrugged. “I mean it’s pretty obvious that I like you a whole lot.”

“Yes, my sweet boy,” Armand cupped Daniel’s face. “It’s also important you know I enjoyed kissing you, I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I think about you often, nearly nonstop.”

Daniel pressed into the touch on instinct for a moment before his eyes filled with trepidation, “Wait what?”

“I liked kissing you.” Armand repeated, “I’d like to do it again.”

“What?” This time it came out squeaky.

“Honeslty, Daniel, please keep up. I left the church and I want to kiss you.” Armand sighed when Daniel just gaped at him.

“I thought… Well, you ghosted me. I thought you realized me being a ‘sinner’ was true.” Daniel frowned. “And you know I’m never gonna be a religious kinda guy.”

“That’s just fine,” Armand stroked his thumb over Daniel’s cheek. “I like you exactly as you are.”

“But the church—”

“Fuck the church.” Armand said. Daniel’s eyes were nearly bugging out at this point. “This isn’t about that. There are many denominations, congregations, and religions in the world. Maybe I’ll find God again. But that isn’t the point. I’ve come to a realization, something I can’t deny.” He softened his voice. “Daniel, I love you.”

“Holy shit,” Daniel whispered. “You can’t mean that. Me? You’re saying that you love me?”

“Yes.” Armand lowered his eyes. “Do you… I know I may not be perfect, and we haven’t known each other long, but is there any way you might fall in love with me? Even after I ignored you?”

“Dude,” Daniel said.

Armand’s nose scrunched, “Don’t call me that.”

“Right,” Daniel took Armand’s hand. “Baby, I think I’ve been in love with you this whole time.”

Armand couldn’t help the smile that took over. He pulled Daniel into a crushing hug, only to shove him back into kissing distance a second later. Daniel’s hands landed on his waist, warm even though his shirt. He pressed as close as he could, wrapping his arms over Daniel’s shoulders.

“I love you,” Daniel whispered between kisses. “I can’t believe this. Fucking hell, you’re amazing.”

“My Daniel,” Armand nuzzled into his neck while he caught his breath. “Beloved, I’m so happy you stumbled into my confession booth.”

“Same,” Daniel held him close. “I mean still fuck that church and everything, but thank God I met you. Wait, does this mean we’re both unemployed now?”

Armand rolled his eyes. “Is that really what you’re concerned about right now? Stop thinking so much, we’ll be okay. You’re missing out on valuable kissing time.”

“Right,” Daniel leaned in conspiratorially. “How about we take this somewhere less outdoors.”

They both looked to the hotel, where the guard was glaring at Armand. They glanced back at each other and burst into laughter.

“Perhaps my place, beloved.” Armand took Daniel’s hand, already leading the way. Daniel followed, grinning nonstop.

Their joined hands felt steady, solid. It was something to build on together. Not a foundation of control, but one of care. He squeezed Daniel’s hand and felt another echo back. Tethered together, it was impossible to feel lost.

No more chasing after heaven, it was already within reach.