g/t one-shot book

sinners (m/nb) | pt. 1

"Amen."

Griffin didn't bother opening his eyes as the benediction rang, the congregation filing out of the chapel for the holiday feast prepared next door. He huffed as he grasped for the sense of calm he felt earlier - reaching for the wisp of peace that floated about the sanctuary. Frustrated, the 17-year-old opened his eyes, sighing when the first thing he saw was his brother. The taller boy made his way towards the younger one, concern evident in his features.

"You good?" He asked, putting a reassuring hand on Griffin's shoulder. The shorter boy stiffened, nodding.

"Just needed time with the Lord."

His brother flashed him a skeptical look, holding it for a few seconds before shifting his attention elsewhere. Ransom's eyes flickered to the exit, watching the crowd file out to where the food was.

"You're gonna miss the potluck."

"I'll live," Griffin deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Go help mom before the church folk trample her."

Ransom nodded, making a beeline for the exit as Griffin took in the sanctuary. The vibe felt different this time around. It was crazy that a few minutes ago the building was bustling with activity - the teen could practically feel the heat from cramming hundreds of people in one room, the pastor screaming with the Word violently shaking in his hand. Now, though? The rows of empty pews and the occasional draft of wind told a completely different story.

Abandoned, he thought bitterly. He refused to taste the word on his lips as he'd tasted it in life. Its presence was overwhelming, crashing over him in waves, forcing him to question his own two feet. Griffin shut his eyes for a moment, his reality distorted. He could feel his heart drop as his father did one day, how the flicker of life left his eyes as he breathed reassurance with his very last breath.

After that, everything had changed. The church that once supported his family now felt suffocating, as his mother was lectured for every little thing. Some told her to get over it and find a new husband. Others admonished her for not grieving him enough. Even when her two sons stepped up to work in their father's place, the blame fell on their mother for not letting them be kids.

Griffin clenched his fists as he remembered their scowls. "Sister Marie," they'd say with a sneer. Every time they called his mother's name it had been with contempt. Never mind that she'd been working, too. Never mind that his older brother was 22, and he almost 18. Never mind that they had lost their father 3 years ago, and still the congregation persisted. The leaders weren't much better - they were cordial when it came to the Decca family, but even they had kept their distance after the head's passing.

"What do I do?" He said randomly, making his way to the altar. He thought, no, he knew there was no blessing beyond his pain. As empty as the pews were, so was what awaited him at the front. As he led his own procession, down to the altar and upped in curiosity, a voice answered him.

"Depends."

The lack of volume stopped Griffin in his tracks. His eyes darted around the sanctuary, looking for an explanation. There's no way that was the Deity he knew. 

Could it?

"Who are you?!" He shouted, being met with his own echo. "Show yourself!"

The voice stopped, and Griffin released a frustrated sigh. It was just his imagination. A part of him wished it was a Divine encounter, hoping for an answer to his ever-growing list of questions. His eyes moved to the exit, contemplating leaving the church altogether. Ransom always left him a plate, but if he went now he could probably get an extra helping for the next week.

"I...can't. You can't know I exist."

Scared? Griffin's frustration melted to concern. So it wasn't his imagination. He furrowed his eyebrows. What kind of being would be scared of him?

"So you're real."

He was again met with silence. Do not be afraid, he thought, but now the script's flipped. The 17-year-old bit his lip. "I never thought angels to be so...quiet," he mumbled, his eyes studying the building's interior in a new light. Griffin looked beyond the ceiling that covered him. "Not like Them, anyway."

"Angel?" The voice inquired, its volume slightly louder than before.

Griffin mouth twitched as the voice from beyond seemed to taunt him. He considered mouthing off the voice, rebuking the demon he couldn't yet see, but one look at the altar made his anger fizzle away. No demon could survive this, he told himself, nor would they talk so...softly.

"A still, small voice," he recited, ready to leave the being as is when he spotted it.

Something fidgeted in his peripheral vision. Atop the spiral pillars that adorned the sides of the sanctuary laid something...out-of-place. He leveled his gaze there, watching the thing that moved in trepidation come to a sudden stop when it realized it was being watched. Gingerly, the teen made his way to the column, being careful not to make any sudden movements.

Was the voice...coming from there?