John 8:32

14 - 1 Peter 4:8

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

Damien had no idea how he was hungover. He had hardly half a bottle of cheap wine, he was barely drunk last night.

Still, he hauled his ass out of bed for church that morning. It was the responsible thing to do. As always, Spencer neglected the responsible thing to do in favor of his own agenda. Damien didn't think that Spencer had ever skipped church, but today, he was nowhere to be found.

Fucking really?

Damien left the service early — pulling his phone from his pocket to text Spencer.

Damien [9:25]

spence im coming over

Damien [9:25]

we need to talk

Last night's conversation needed to happen far more sober than it was last night. And it needed to happen quickly — Pastor Morris was home tomorrow.

By the time Damien made it to Spencer's house — he still hadn't responded. For a moment Damien thought he may have just been asleep still, but Spencer was typically a morning person. Even on Saturdays he voluntarily woke up before ten.

So Damien knocked.

No response.

He knocked again, and pushed the front door open.

"I'm coming, jeez!" Spencer's voice came from down the hallway, "Listen I was gonna go to church, I just woke up and— oh."

"Oh?" Damien raised an eyebrow.

"You're not my dad," Spencer stopped fumbling with his shirt, leaving it half unbuttoned.

"No, I am not," Damien shook his head, "What are you doing?"

"My dad isn't here, so I skipped," Spencer shrugged.

Damien would've believed it if it weren't for the voice that emerged from the hallway.

"Spencer?" Leah stepped out of the bedroom, pulling a shirt over her head, "Who is it?"

"Shit," Spencer swore, gaze flicking anxiously between Damien and Leah, "Damien, can you just go home? We can talk about it later."

"Now is later, Spence," Damien was having a little trouble caring that Leah was right there and could easily figure out what they were talking about, "We have to talk about last night."

"Not right now," Spencer hissed, raising his hands towards Damien's arm like he was about to shove him away.

"I'm just gonna go," Leah shoved between Spencer and Damien, pulling her shoes onto her feet, "I'll text you later Spencer."

Spencer just watched as Leah rushed out the door.

"Spence," Damien breathed, "What the hell?"

"Well, according to you, this isn't anything," Spencer huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "So it shouldn't be a problem. Or honestly, any of your business."

"Spence, if you're so pissed about it, shouldn't that say something about what this means to you?"

It hurt. It hurt a lot, honestly. Knowing that Spencer felt the way he did, and watching him completely ignore it. God, why did Damien have to be so damn empathetic? That's what got him into this mess in the first place.

"I told you I just—" Spencer choked. The words physically caught themselves in his throat.

"It wasn't the same with her, was it? You couldn't go through with it."

Spencer was quiet — that was all the answer Damien needed. It was never going to be the same for Spencer, as badly as he may have wanted it to be.

"I just need time," Spencer breathed.

"You've had time."

Damien understood — he really did. But it had been so long. It was getting close to a year now. A year with Spencer and his refusal to acknowledge anything at all. It was hard, again, Damien got it. But it was getting frustrating. He was so close, he just wouldn't.

"I need more time, Damien," Spencer's voice broke as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"Are you ever gonna face it?"

"I— I don't know."

Damien saw the tears welling up in Spencer's eyes — and he knew he fucked up. He shouldn't have pushed so hard.

"Fuck, Spence," Damien reached out an arm, and Spencer stepped into his chest, "C'mere."

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbled into Damien's shirt, and he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He couldn't trust that anything he said wouldn't make things worse.