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Frederick was quite done with the day when Lenard decided to grace them with his presence. So much for the peace and quiet of the Lord’s house that Olu seemed to always be blabbering about.
No, the church, he had realised decades now, was organised chaos. How could anyone contain the human psyche otherwise? They would all sin, try to repent and sin yet again for such was the nature of humanity. He had made peace with that fact as a young man and held onto his beliefs from then on.
Maybe humanity couldn’t be saved from itself, but he had long decided that for the few truly aspiring to be good, not just to avoid Hell, wallow in self pity or go to bed with a clear conscience, he would do anything to have them live up to it.
Offering guidance, advice and compassion was in the job description, obviously. The near-encyclopaedic knowledge of the church’s history… not so much, but his insights were helpful often enough to excuse it.
He could lie to himself all he wanted, talk of tradition and the importance of the past. Usually, he would even bring up his PhD. It was his duty, after all.
In truth, there was this little spark. A tiny flicker of warmth, whenever Olu would shoot him an amused look after having “suffered” through another speech about 19th century architecture.
They were friends.
Friends enjoyed each other’s happiness and attention too.
He winced at the thought. It had been a long time, indeed. Had it been a mistake?
——————
21 years earlier
Olu was tired. They had made the decision to have confessions take place for two hours late in the afternoon, and it was really wearing him down. Even without the psychological strain though, the heat was truly exhausting.
They were well into July and while 24°C were nowhere near a heatwave, it was still way too hot to be stuck in a tiny cabinet with non-existent ventilation for over an hour.
On the other side of the screen, the next penitent took their seat. The old piece of wood creaked terribly, and though most would find it annoying, he always thought of it as a great way to psychoanalyse the person on the other side. He was no therapist, obviously, but recognising the other’s state of mind came in handy more often than not. He could tell who was irritated, scared or bored. Whoever was on the other side was incredibly reserved, there had barely been a sound.
He took a deep breath and gathered himself.
“In the name of the Father, of The Son and of the Holy Spirit.” The words were out of his mouth before he could even register them.
A stern voice echoed through the thin barrier “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession.” It was a thick, rich sound that held weight, the likes of which he had only encountered very few times.
Frederick.
He waited for the man to continue, knowing by now that the other had a habit of going through his list of sins one last time before confessing. It had never been an issue, a matter of seconds really.
Now though, the seconds turned into minutes and the silence grew tense. Soon he began questioning the health of the other. Had he fainted? Was he having a stroke?
Just as he was about to speak up, if only to ensure Frederick was still there, his ear caught something.
There, an almost inaudible hitch of breath. Olu stared at the grating in disbelief. Was Frederick crying?
Crying in the confessional was not a rare occurrence of course, quite the opposite actually. But Frederick? He was the epitome of stoicism!
It took effort to not just disregard customs and go check on his friend.
“I-” the other’s voice faltered “I acted in anger and yelled at an employee.”
That was… peculiar. Despite his firm beliefs, Frederick had never been one for uncontrollable bursts of rage, even when it came to the debates he so often found himself in.
“A-and…” in the two years he’d known him, he’d only witnessed Frederick in true loss of words three times.
Once when he’d beat him at chess, during their first week together at the parish –an event yet to repeat.
The second time was somewhere along the one year mark, when Olu had burst in his room in the middle of the night, shouting about a fire. Apparently some punk had decided that the donation bins looked enticingly flammable. He had the gut to say as much the next day in the confessional.
The third… about a week ago. He’d been taking care of the garden and had gotten pretty into it. The heat paired with the humid air had been unbearable, so much so that even in just shorts and a flannel, he was absolutely drenched in sweat. He’d been trying –and notably failing– to trim the maple near the end of the grounds, when Frederick had shown up with water, God bless him. Olu had nearly drunk two thirds of the bottle in one gulp before turning to the other to thank him, only to find him frozen in place.
His cheekbones were bright red and he was staring at him, mouth slightly agape. The heat must’ve really been getting to him… Without a second thought he passed him the water bottle and urged him to drink and find cover from the sun. The man shot him an incredulous look, eyes darting back and forth from the bottle pressed in his hands and Olu’s face. He’d stormed off without a word.
Olu was brought back to the present by Frederick’s new attempt to speak.
“I masturbated.” He admitted, guilt dripping from his words.
All Olu wanted was to comfort him, reassure him –though he surely knew, as he too took confessions quite often– that it was common as fish in the sea. Unfortunately, that was not his role at the moment.
Frederick’s voice was trembling so hard he was wondering if he’d have to go over and pick him up in pieces after they were done.
“I masturbated to the thought of another man.”
Oh.
Oh.
Well, that explained the fuss. Olu knew he would have to tread carefully, because despite being on the younger side of their profession, the other was very conservative.
When he spoke again, Frederick’s voice was steadier, but nowhere near its normal firmness. “For these and all my sins, I am truly sorry.”
And he was. Olu could hear the remorse in his voice, feel the crippling shame in his own heart.
Despite his will to proceed as normal, later he would admit to himself that he very much rushed the process. The penance itself was nothing special, he’d given about five identical ones that day alone. Apparently, that did not sit right with the other man.
“What? But-”
“Are you questioning my judgment?”
“No, of course not. But how can you-”
Olu sighed. Right, straightforward. “Do you not agree that this is a fit penance for letting your anger get the best of you and masturbating?”
“Well, normally yes-”
“Then there’s nothing more to be discussed.” His voice was firm, strained even. The man he knew wouldn’t dare interrupt or doubt him at a moment like this one.
“Now, wait a minute-”
“Frederick!” Olu shouted, appalled at the blatant disrespect from the other “You are way out of line!”
“…Yes.” He conceded “I apologise.”
After that exchange, they quickly got over with the rest of the procedure and Frederick stormed off to God knows where.
It was only in the late hours of night that Olu dared approach his friend’s room, two steaming cups of tea in hand. There was absolutely no way the other would be asleep. Careful not to spill any, he knocked –well, technically thumped, as he was doing so with his elbow, creating a low, echoing sound. After a few seconds, the door opened, revealing Frederick. His clothes were ruffled, his hair all over the place and his eyes almost as red as his cheeks. Had he not known him, Olu would have thought he was just another junkie, like all the others that gathered in the alley behind the pub.
Olu didn’t wait to be invited in. He walked through the door like he owned the place, going straight to the kitchenette and setting the cups on the counter. Frederick followed suit and as he came to a stop, he opened his mouth. Maybe to ask the purpose of the visit, maybe to cuss him out. Maybe to beg for forgiveness for sins he’d already been absolved of.
He didn’t get to do any of those things, because Olu cut him off by pulling him close and enveloping him in a hug, squeezing his ribs to the point where the tightness passed the threshold of pain. He did not react. He just stood completely still, in his tiny kitchen, being embraced by the cause of these thoughts.
Time passed, yet neither of them attempted to exit their position. Late as it was, the only sounds to be heard were the low hum of the refrigerator, their soft breaths and the rustle of clothes as Olu rubbed circles on Frederick’s back.
Virtually, nothing changed. No sound, touch nor passing light disturbed the peace. And yet, something inside Frederick just… broke. As if a splinter, the deep ache in his heart, had finally cut something vital.
He dropped his head on his friend’s shoulder and let out an anguished wail. Tears streamed down his face and he started to sob uncontrollably. God, he just wanted- he needed it to stop.
The other just pulled him closer and held on a bit firmer. It was comfort and torture, all at once.
“The church” Olu spoke up, breathing hard, as if he’d been running “prohibits homosexual acts. Not thoughts or… solo activities.”
That got a surprised laugh out of the other “Well…”
“I mean any more than usual! Come on, you’re brilliant, use that bloody brain of yours.”
“I feel like sh-” Frederick cut himself off “I feel horrible.”
Olu pulled away with a look of compassion, with a hint of amusement hidden somewhere deep, where only the other would recognise. “That’s what the tea’s for.”
By dawn, Frederick wasn’t exactly feeling better, but there was a certain weight that had been lifted. The warm drinks had melted the icy, jagged spikes that were piercing his chest and hours of talking about anything and everything with his friend had untied the knot in his throat.
——————
Tea became something of a tradition during the late night conversations they so often found themselves in.
Frederick, who had never been fond of physical contact, found that he didn’t mind the casual touches of his friend. It was actually rather grounding. Once the other realised that, there would always be a hand on his shoulder, a brush of their arms or a knee gently reading his whenever a stressful situation arose.
There would always be a power imbalance, of sorts. There would always be a little too much love and guilt in Frederick’s eyes. There would always be too much acceptance in their twins.
The confession, the night after it… neither of them could find it in themselves to truly regret it, despite where it had led them. It had changed so much and nothing at all.
Frederick still carried himself like he had a stick up his ass throughout the day. His views never shifted and he prided himself in that fact.
And yet, in the dead of night, he let himself relax, half-lying on Olu’s chest as he revisited a favourite book. The man he was twenty years ago wouldn’t have dared to even think of a situation like that.
It was not a mistake.
He would not let it be.