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Francis sat across from the priest. He looked up, his warm, welcoming eyes, that always invited him to share whatever Francis was wondering about looked into his blue ones, the priest's were almost so reassuring it was intimidating. Francis whole body shook in a jittery like motion, why? Because he feared. He knew the repercussions of doing such acts. Two boys.
Two boys can't love each other. God didn't intend for Francis to mend human nature, did he?
"My child, whatever is bothering you, feel free to tell me." The priest said. He probably has places to be, I should have kept my mouth shut. Francis thought.
"Father... why can't two boys...uhm...love each other?" Francis trembled out, his voice full of worry. The priest's eyes switched to warmth of love and care to a rather spine-chilling cold and distant took "Francis. You know why. You may not lie with man, as it as an abomination." Francis jumped up. His heart was practically smashed into pieces upon hearing that.
"But father... there is this boy, and... I believe that I really love him!" Francis stood up from his seat across from the priest, the floorboards creaking upon impact. The priest stared at him, inspecting the look in his eyes. "Sit down." Francis's eyes widened, the priest's cold words basically forcing him in a hypnotic manner.
"My child... you are confused. This will not be an issue once you're older! Do not fret, it's likely puberty. You'll meet a lovely lady one day." Francis thought. He's right.
He can't love another boy. That's blasphemous, in fact, an abomination! He's utterly disgusted at even thinking of doing those things. Oh Lord, please forgive him... he's so sorry. He didn't know any better, it was a mindless mistake!
"Oh my child... you know, you have always been such a loyal boy, I know you'll listen. You're such a strong, strong boy. I know you won't act upon those urges, correct?" The priest came closer, and closer, and closer to Francis, taking him into his arms, perhaps with force.
"After all, you're a strong soldier. God would be proud of you my boy." The priest said caressing Francis's hair, holding him close as Francis stared into the wall. His eyes widened, shaking as time went by. He's a strong, strong soldier though. He'll make it, right?
"I must see Antonio, my child. Please, don't bother me with such silly questions." The priest said, letting go of Francis, who was still shaken up. "I-I'm sorry father." Said Francis.
"Then let's leave this in the past." The door shut, leaving Francis alone, drowning in an ocean of melancholy. Lord, oh Lord, how he needed him. He needed Arthur. How can he ever love if the one thing that he knows for a fact he can be happy with is off limits? Someone so close, someone he can talk to daily, somebody that despite their resentment towards each other, they know each other so closely, better than anybody, even? But he knows, he knows nobody would allow it. Not even Arthur.
Not even Francis, not even God.
But I need him, I NEED HIM. Francis thought. He didn't yearn. He needed. He'll never be happy, never experience the world god created for him to experience, because he'll never have a boy. Never have Arthur. He didn't want a woman who spoked like Arthur, acted like Arthur, looked like Arthur, he wanted Arthur, Goddamnit!
"Goddamnit!" He croaked, trying to yell. He covered his mouth, how could he, he dares to take God's name in vain? What is the matter with him? This must be the work of the devil.
But if this is the work of the devil, how can it feels so lovely? How can this feeling of serene beauty blooming from the flower of his heart be demonic? But he knows, the minute he says something to Arthur, the flower will die. Why? Because, Arthur would never requite his love to some weird, pervert like Francis!
Francis cried into his hands, something that feels so close will never be his, and he'll have to stick with enemies.
Francis sat at the bar, right next to Arthur. Arthur, next to him!
"So... Mon Ami, I have a question." Francis stammered out. This piqued Arthur's interest.
"Hm? Well, spit it out, frog." Arthur responded, rather snappily. After all, he was supposed to go hang out with his brothers today. Francis called him though, and Arthur often has trouble saying no to Francis.
"I... really think I love you." Francis spoke quietly, his words almost a broken whisper. Tears dripped down. After years of fearing what others would think, eternal damnation for feeling love, he got the words out!
"We're both men, Francis. You know how this goes." Arthur spoke out, tired. He didn't have time for this. Arthur knew the heavy consequences of this.
"I know, mon ami. I know." Francis said, the tears rushing down his face forcefully, no matter how much his shakey body tried to hide it. The flower that was neglected of water for years, then watered, has now finally died. He might just die along with it.
"Then do me a favor, and lets leave this in the past."
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