He's got the whole world in his hands | Jeongin

Chapter forty-four

A/N: Well, well, well. Guess who didn't post their usual nightly chapter because they were unconscious? Me that's who. I've done that before and said it wouldn't happen again (it has happened again, unfortunately)

So to prevent it, I'm going to start uploading earlier and by earlier I mean 4pm EST. Literally three hours earlier than you normally get it. By doing this, I cannot fall asleep like a grandma and sleep through the usual posting time. Forgive me for being structured like a seventy-eight year old grandmother. To make it up to you, you get double the chapters, double the fun, and double the horror <3

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Something was brewing and he knew it. Jeongin silently paced his apartment as the sun went down. He didn't know how he knew, it was a gut feeling that he just couldn't shake; the twisting of his intestines that made his stomach churn. He didn't know what it was, but he knew he should brace himself for it.

Things like this happened every now and then. He didn't understand it, but he always called it some sort of sixth sense. An inner knowing that at some time in the next twenty-four hours, something was going to go wrong. Something was going to happen and it was going to be bad. No matter what, he wouldn't be able to put a stop to it.

The last time this happened, he was nearly in a car accident. The vehicle in front of him came to a screeching halt at the last moment. He hadn't been paying attention and his bumper was too close to the car ahead. It took a silent prayer and the slam of his foot on the brakes. He just missed the silver bumper by a few inches.

Adrenaline flooded him afterwards. His fingers went white as he gripped the steering wheel. All his heart could do was slam into his ribcage again and again and again. The world seemed to become a little more real. The imminent reminder that death was always lurking crept upon him.

The next few days, he seemed to enter a haze. He became too aware that life was so fragile. One moment you could be here and the next you could be slamming into a car. Even worse, a car could be slamming into you.

Alone in his apartment, wooden floorboards squeaked beneath his socked feet. From his room, through the hall, into the living room, and finally the kitchen before he turned around to retrace his steps. He followed the same invisible trail again and again. It seemed to soothe his spiraling thoughts.

He had turned on the lamp in the living room. Outside, the sky was full of hazy oranges and bright reds. Soon they'd fade off into pinks and darkened yellows before they'd float away. They'd be replaced with blues and grays before inking into the void of black.

Sunsets and sunrises were all the same. Day after day after day he faced them over and over again. After a while, the beauty and awe of them slipped away. They were an endless reminder that another day was starting or ending. Tomorrow would arrive and everything would repeat. How repetitive and how boring; the same mundane tasks, the same little circle of life, everything was always the same.

He reached up and rubbed his eyes with open palms. "You need to pull yourself together. You're only thinking like this because you're worried and alone. You're alone and you have nobody to save you from your thoughts."

The brain was an echo-chamber. So many thoughts and so many unspoken words lived there. His flesh was saturated with unspoken confessions. Being a priest wasn't easy and oftentimes, he found himself reliving the conversations with his own members of the congregation.

The kid who asked forgiveness for climbing onto the countertop to reach the cookie jar. The temptation of oreos, the gluttony was too great to ignore. The bush-ridden feel of broccoli versus the sweetened cookie cream, the answer seemed obvious. His mother promised him oreos after dinner, but why wait when you could have them now?

Kids were innocent like that; confessions full of silly sins. Begging for forgiveness over two cookies. For calling their older sibling ugly. For stealing from their younger siblings and making them cry. For calling a classmate a jerk or an idiot. For pushing their friend at recess. Kids were just kids.

The adults were much different. For some, their sins were far more complex than he ever expected. Just like the one soft-spoken guy who sat in the middle of the sanctuary with his wife and kids every Sunday. Everything seemed fine, but during the last confession, he admitted that he cheated on his wife by screwing his co-worker.

It was far from what Jeongin expected. He was supposed to be good at being a priest. He wanted to help people find God, but he would be lying if he said judgment hadn't briefly crossed his mind. The man had an attractive wife and a beautiful family. The idea of hurting her like that, it seemed unfathomable.

The man was riddled with guilt. The two were alone, but the man burst into tears. The squeaks of his voice as he spoke, the choked out sobs, the pauses full of sniffles and gasps. All Jeongin could do was offer him some words of encouragement as he held out a box of tissues towards him.

"I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do if my wife doesn't forgive me? How am I supposed to look her in the eyes knowing what I did? I can't even sleep in the same bed without feeling awful."

Jeongin was a priest, but he wasn't a therapist. He had the word of God, but he didn't have an answer for every problem. In those few moments, he wracked his brain attempting to find the right words to say. The man was a mess and he couldn't bear to make it worse.

So instead, he mentioned a few bible verses. He talked about God and forgiveness. He reminded him that his wife was a follower of God too. They had quite the conversation about forgiveness and remorse.

God, forgiveness, guilt, and remorse. Four things that just seemed to go hand-in-hand. Some people found God out of need. Some found him because they had nowhere else to go. Some were raised in his love because that's what their parents had taught them.

Others found God because they needed forgiveness; they were drowning in their guilt and choking with remorse.