born to die

003

BORN TO DIE ── charlie mayhew.

Saturday finally arrives, and the morning air is crisp and cool as I get ready to head to the church. I stand in front of the mirror longer than usual, fussing over my clothes, telling myself it doesn't matter—but knowing it does. I want to make a good impression. Even though I know I shouldn't care so much, smoothing down my shirt, and hair out the door. The crisp morning air hits my face as I walk to the church, my heart beating a little faster with every step. It's not even that big of a deal, I remind myself. I'm just volunteering.

When I arrive at the church, the nervous energy I've been carrying all week kicks into overdrive. I walk through the doors, the familiar scent of incense calming me slightly as I make my way to the back room where the food drive is being set up.

The back room is already buzzing with activity. Boxes of food are stacked high, volunteers moving around, getting everything organized. I scan the room, and then I spot him  there he is—Father Charlie. He's standing near one of the tables, his sleeves rolled up as he directs a few volunteers. He looks up when I walk in, and when his eyes meet mine, that same warmth from last Sunday is there again.

"Y/N," he says smiling,
"I'm glad you made it."

I smile back, "Of course. I've been looking forward to it."

He chuckles softly.

And steps closer,  Before I can say anything else, he glances over his shoulder and motions for someone to come over. A woman in a nun's attire makes her way toward us, her face kind but sharp.

"This is Sister Megan," Father Charlie says, turning back to me. "She's been with us for a while and helps organize a lot of our food drives. I wanted to introduce you two."

I smile and extend my hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Sister Megan shakes my hand firmly, her eyes sharp but friendly. "Nice to meet you as well. Father Charlie's mentioned you were interested in volunteering. We're always happy to have more hands."

Her presence is calming, and yet, as she stands there, I can't help but feel a slight tension in the air. It's subtle, barely noticeable, but enough that I can't shake it.

"We'll be working in pairs today," Sister Megan continues. "I've already got a group started at the back, and you'll be helping Father Charlie at this station."

My heart skips at the mention of working directly with him. I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I'm buzzing with excitement. Father Charlie thanks Sister Megan, and she walks off to oversee the other volunteers, leaving the two of us standing alone by the table.

"You okay with this?" he asks, his voice low and steady. "I know it's your first day, but I'll ease you into things."

"I'm good," I say, smiling.

Father Charlie smiles at me as we stand beside the table, the faint smell of fresh cardboard from the boxes. The rest of the volunteers are busy sorting cans and organizing donations, It's just him and me, standing close enough that I can feel the warmth from him

Alright," he says, his voice soft but steady. "Let's start by organizing these into categories canned goods here, dry food there. We'll pack them into boxes once everything's sorted."

He hands me a pair of gloves, and when our fingers brush, I feel a tiny jolt, like electricity skimming across my skin. I slip the gloves on quickly, trying to ignore the feeling. It's just nerves, I tell myself. It's  my first day, after all.

We work side by side, quietly at first. The sound of rustling paper and the clinking of cans fills the space between us, I sneak a glance at him now and then, watching the way his hands move with a practiced ease, how focused he seems on the task.

Yet, every so often, I catch him glancing at me too, just for a second, before looking away.
our eyes meeting.

So," he says after a few minutes of silence, breaking the quiet, "what made you want to volunteer?"

His question catches me off guard, and I pause, a can of soup in my hand. "I don't know," I admit, feeling a little self-conscious. "I just... felt like I needed to do something. To give back, I guess."

He nods, his expression soft. "It's a good thing, wanting to help others. Not everyone takes that step."

I shrug, "I guess it just felt right."

He smiles at that.

We continue working, the conversation flowing more easily now. He asks me about my life, about what I do in my free time, and I find myself talking more than I expected. There's something about him that makes me want to open up, to share more than I usually would.

He listens, really listens, nodding as I speak, occasionally offering a quiet comment. Every now and then, our hands brush as we reach for the same can or place items into the same box,

As we work, the noise of the other volunteers fades into the background.
At one point, I catch him looking at me when he thinks I'm not paying attention. His eyes linger for just a moment, But then he looks away, back to what he was doing, as if nothing happened.

The day moves along, and by the time we've finished packing the boxes, I'm more tired than I expected, but also strangely energized. The time flew by faster than I thought, and yet, I'm already thinking about the next time I'll be here. The next time I'll see him.

As we finish up, Father Charlie wipes his hands on a rag and turns to me. "You did great today," he says, his voice sincere. "We really appreciate the help.

I feel my face warm under his praise. "Thank you. I'm glad I could be part of it."

He smiles again, that same soft, almost lingering smile. "We're lucky to have you.

For a moment, we just stand there, His gaze lingers a little too long.
I smile back, forcing myself to break the moment. "I'll see you next week, then?"

He nods, "Yes," he says, his voice just a little softer than before. "I'll see you next week."

As I walk out of the church and into the crisp afternoon air, my mind is racing. I replay every glance, every touch, every moment we shared. And even though I know I shouldn't.

😭 bae i love uu, u my everything 😭😭😭