𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤 (𝔉𝔶𝔬𝔩𝔞𝔦)

6: 𝔗𝔬 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡

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"Oh come on Mikhail, we're going to be late!" Fyodor's mother complained as his father proceeded to fix his tie for what seemed like the millionth time. Not wanting to be involved in his family's morning chaos, Fyodor had seated himself near the door, his eyes dark from a poor night's sleep. Nikolai had left him several messages, but he had yet to respond, as he was more focused on calming the ever raging storm inside his stomach.

  His symptoms only worsened when he saw that oh-so familiar building come into view. Passing through its halls, he felt as though every single icon that adorned its interior was watching him, judging his soul and whispering his sins. He went through the motions of veneration, knowing that his same lips which kissed the saints in admiration, wished nothing more than to meet Nikolai's in sinful passion. When they had finally found their place in the sanctuary, Fyodor's eyes wandered to the large windows that surrounded them, watching as sunlight streaked in through their colorful panes and cascaded across the marble floor. He was so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice the long-robed priest that strolled his way onto the platform above them all. Opening the large book in front of him, the priest began to speak in a loud voice, breaking Fyodor from his thoughts:

"Или не знаете что неправедные Царетва Божияне наследуют? Не обманывайтесь: ни блудники, ни воры, ни лихоимцы, ни пьяницы, ни злоречивые, ни хищники— Царства Божия не наследуют. И такими были некоторые из вас; но омылись, но освятились, но оправдались именем Господа нашего."

("Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor drunkards, nor revolvers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.")

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  Fyodor didn't hear what hymn he was supposed to sing, his eyes were shut tight as he willed himself not to burst into tears. Was this a sign? Surely it was no coincidence that the priest had chosen that passage the first time Fyodor had attended a real liturgy in months. He knew, he had to know. He told himself he was wrong, but everything else in his mind screamed out in defiance. It was then that he realized Nikolai was right, God truly did despise him. He couldn't stop the sob that escaped his lips, but it was quickly drowned out in a sea of hymns.

  The thick smell of incense permeated the air, clinging to his lungs and choking him with guilt. How dare he attempt to abandon God? He struggled to find breath as he stood, clutching the wooden cross buried beneath his clothing. His soul cried out in agony to a God who wouldn't care to listen, and he knew that this must be wrong.

  The events of the next hour were too much of a blur, the only thing that brought him back to reality was his grandmother's soft hand against his forehead. "He's burning up." She mumbled to his mother. Fyodor's hand now clutched his stomach as he willed himself not to vomit. Now he had to live like this, masquerading among his family of believers as his treachery dug into his conscience and tore him apart like some savage beast. He couldn't hide his sin forever, could he? Of course not, they would all find out eventually. And then what? Fyodor didn't know. He felt his stomach turn over as he proceeded to vomit on the floor of the sanctuary.

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  When their family had returned home, his grandmother quickly ushered him upstairs and forced him to lie down. "You poor thing, why didn't you tell us you were feeling ill?" Fyodor's grandmother questioned as she placed a cool washcloth over his forehead. "I'm sorry Бабушка... I felt fine this morning." Fyodor groaned in response. He had indeed spiked a terrible fever, his face was drenched with sweat and the acidic taste of vomit still lingered on his tongue. He simply took it as a punishment from God, not even bothering to get up and rinse the disgusting taste from his mouth. "Grandmother?" He croaked, she looked down at him, a tender look on her face that brought an unfamiliar sense of comfort to his soul. "Yes?"

  "I'm sorry." His eyes pricked with tears, for he truly was ashamed. "Don't be little one, it was an accident." She replied, not knowing the full extent of Fyodor's statement. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on his cheek before getting up to leave. "You rest now, да? You need it." She stated before exiting the room, shutting the door behind her.

                                                                                         ✩✩✩

  Fyodor looked up at the ceiling, his body sweating profusely beneath the warm sheets of his bed. "Oh wretched man that I am, who will set me free from this body of death?" He whispered, his body aching with illness. Everything had gone so poorly. He tried to rationalize it, telling himself things could have been worse, and it was true, he should be thankful they didn't find out about his feelings towards Nikolai. Nikolai... how could he forget? He dug into his pocket and, after a moment, found his phone.

  In the span of a few hours, Nikolai had left him several more messages. As he looked through them, Fyodor found a smile creeping its way onto his face. And for the first time in a while, he didn't try to hide it. After all, no one was around to see, right? It turned out that Nikolai had gone back to his own hometown and seemed to be enjoying himself much more than Fyodor. He almost envied Nikolai for how happy he looked in one of the photos he had sent. His arm was wrapped around his friend, both of them bearing a broad grin on their faces which were flushed from the cold.

  But here he was, lying in the dark of his room, sick and distraught. It was pathetic really. Finally, he decided to send a message, typing out a simple greeting before pressing send. It didn't surprise him to see Nikolai respond immediately, asking all about how his own trip was going. Feeling it unwise to tell him what had happened that morning, he told him he had simply fallen ill. Of course, this still upset Nikolai greatly, but seeing how they were miles apart, Fyodor was saved from his protective smothering. Another hour had gone by without either of them realizing it and Fyodor suddenly found himself to be feeling much better. He lay there for a moment before a thought flashed through his mind. He quickly sent another message:

Do you remember when you asked me to go on a date with you?

  He watched his phone screen as Nikolai typed out a response.

As if I could forget, it was humiliating- Why? Did you decide on an answer?

  Fyodor stopped, leaning back on the pillows and letting out a long sigh. Part of him was still unsure, but he supposed he would never really be ready. Though he'd come this far, hadn't he? Still somewhat reluctantly, he typed out an answer, sending it before he let his doubt get the better of him.

I'd love to.

  Too embarrassed to see how Nikolai would react, he turned off his phone and buried himself under his blankets, proceeding to sleep for the rest of the day.

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a/n: 

Okay so... I have no idea if they actually call it a sanctuary but it sounded right and I couldn't find anything useful online. Also Orthodox churches technically use a different translation of the Bible than what I used in this (KJV). I just liked this one because it makes me sound smart. (And oddly enough I couldn't seem to find a translation in the version they do use)

This was an emotional rollercoaster, sorry- (dw tho they get super gay in the next chapter) It's also the longest chapter yet, whoa :00 Overall this one felt a bit rushed but I couldn't think of how to fix it so... f*** it we ball