Triad
Follows this.
Faith
Rating: PG
We get back home and I’m trying to tape up the gash on your cheekbone, but you’re too high off the adrenaline from the fight to stay still for one fuckin’ minute. I push you into the chair, then sit on you, straddling your hips.
Will you just stop moving, damnit?
Can’t, you say. Think you can make me? Then you’re smiling, and it’s real, actually reaching your eyes. Jaysus I’ve missed that, almost forgot how it looks. Breathe in deep, then hug you tight, petting the back of your head, my fingers tangling in your hair. I tell myself maybe this moment of being will be all we get before we die, so I try to remember this. You with blood on your face, blue in your eyes, love in your heart.
God, I whisper, and that was wrong, because you’re now a heartbreaking mix of anger and sadness. You’re telling me that God’s not here, he’s not here, not listening and we’ve fallen too far into the shadows to see Him anyway. And fuck Conn, but I didn’t mean it, and why us? Why? Nothing holy about us. Never were good for anything more than a few pints and a brawl, and fuck. Fuck.
From the way you’re clenching your fists, I know there will be blood on your palms when you open your hands. You let out a shuddering breath, almost crying, but too full of MacManus pride to give in to that particular weakness. Another sin, marked up in the Book, and how many pages and chapters have we filled up by now? I know as well as you that there can be absolution, but without a willingness to sin no more, confession is a hollow mockery of a sacrament.
Shh. Hush now, a chuisle. I can’t do anything more than hold you now, not having the words to fix this, fix faith. Especially when my own is so close to breaking.
Faith
Rating: PG
We get back home and I’m trying to tape up the gash on your cheekbone, but you’re too high off the adrenaline from the fight to stay still for one fuckin’ minute. I push you into the chair, then sit on you, straddling your hips.
Will you just stop moving, damnit?
Can’t, you say. Think you can make me? Then you’re smiling, and it’s real, actually reaching your eyes. Jaysus I’ve missed that, almost forgot how it looks. Breathe in deep, then hug you tight, petting the back of your head, my fingers tangling in your hair. I tell myself maybe this moment of being will be all we get before we die, so I try to remember this. You with blood on your face, blue in your eyes, love in your heart.
God, I whisper, and that was wrong, because you’re now a heartbreaking mix of anger and sadness. You’re telling me that God’s not here, he’s not here, not listening and we’ve fallen too far into the shadows to see Him anyway. And fuck Conn, but I didn’t mean it, and why us? Why? Nothing holy about us. Never were good for anything more than a few pints and a brawl, and fuck. Fuck.
From the way you’re clenching your fists, I know there will be blood on your palms when you open your hands. You let out a shuddering breath, almost crying, but too full of MacManus pride to give in to that particular weakness. Another sin, marked up in the Book, and how many pages and chapters have we filled up by now? I know as well as you that there can be absolution, but without a willingness to sin no more, confession is a hollow mockery of a sacrament.
Shh. Hush now, a chuisle. I can’t do anything more than hold you now, not having the words to fix this, fix faith. Especially when my own is so close to breaking.