Warning: Smut.
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'Goodbye, father!' I waved as my dad grinned happily at me.
'Bye, (Y/n)! Have a good day!' He was always so optimistic.
'I will!'
I shut the front door behind me and began to skip to church. Ever since my mum died, I started believing in things no one else did. My town mainly consisted of drug-dealers and alcoholics, none of which had ever even heard of God. Despite that, they were kind enough. I began to hum to myself to the happy little tune playing in my own mind. The sun was barely visible behind the dimming grey clouds that seemed glued to the canvas they called the sky. 'Good morning Mr. Finch!' I called, watching as the bulky man in black leaned back against the brick wall beside his girlfriend's house.
'Hey there, (Y/n)! Like the dress!' He shot a smile in my direction as I looked down at my light-blue floral dress which was decorated with gentle yellow sunflowers.
'Thank you!'
It wasn't their fault that their destinies became blurred. Everyone meant well.
My shiny black ballerina flats barely made any noise over the barking dogs and car alarms, which seemed to be the towns favourite symphony. Just outside of the church, I noticed a band of men I had never seen before. I ignored them as I stepped inside, yet as I skipped past them, I seemed to have caught their eyes. 'You that (Y/n) girl?' One asked just before I was able to close the doors behind me. I turned around, greeting them with a bright smile.
'Yes, hello!'
'That old dude who runs this place wan'ed to ask you 'f you could take care'f some family comin' by. Said the kid is bein' a brat an' the parents are leavin' 'im here for a while.' I was almost lost in the mans' spiked white hair which was so obviously dyed it made me snicker slightly.
'Of course, thank you for telling me. What's your name?'
'Rudy. That there is Cal,' Rudy pointed over to his jittery looking friend with wild brown hair 'and them over there is Erin, prefers the name Grim.' His third friend stared me down with his bright green eyes, as though he was assessing me before he snapped out of his own trance and waved.
'Are you friends with the Father?' I asked, beginning to feel slightly comforted by the three men.
'We own the place, every so often we just come by and scope it out, y'know? Just makin' sure 'e doesn't mess it up. By the way, love y'dress. Very civil.' Rudy picked at the brown beard that hung from his chin, nipping at the skin beneath it with his fingernails. 'Anyway, we better get goin'. F'yah ever need anything, just get the old dude to give us a call.' Rudy tapped each of his friends on their shoulders before hopping down the church steps and whistling loudly. Within moments, a large black van with spray paint all over it came whizzing down the street and right in front of the punk man.
'C'mon boys!' A man shouted from the drivers seat of the car. Just like that, the oddly kind men began filing into the car with excitement in their voices.
'See yah later Christian Girl!' Rudy happily called, slamming his hand on the outside of the door and letting the car screech away until all that remained was smoke.
'...if you can hear me, I'm sorry...'
There was a sudden creek that emanated from behind me, followed by the call of a feminine voice. 'You will not embarrass me in a house of god, understand?'
'Whatever.'
I parted my hands and got up from my knees, only to feel my bones crack beneath my flesh. I didn't realise how long I had been praying for until now. I turned around, only to suddenly have all the air knocked out of my lungs. In the church corridor was a man and woman, presumably a married couple with what seemed to be their son standing between them. His pale legs were only exposed by the rips in his black jeans, his cold blue eyes cursed my cheeks into an eternal fluster and his lips were decorated with two rings on the left side of his bottom lip. His shirt consisted of a fishnet singlet and ripped, black denim vest. 'Hello, ma'am.'
Gosh his hair looked so soft.
'Ma'am?'
'O-Oh, hi, yes, sorry.' I apologised, shaking the teenager out of my thoughts. 'M-My um...n-name is (Y/n). Father Martin is not here at the moment so he left everything to me.' The mother just stared at me for a moment, evaluating whether I was to be trusted or not. Those few moments of her eyeing me like rotten food gave me time to skim my eyes over the large room which made up almost the entire church. It was fairly simple, shiny wooden floors, dark oak pews that almost coated the left and right sides of the church. My favourite part of the church was the worn out upright piano that sat beside the centre podium, dust coating its glistening finish. There wasn't much other than that besides the confessionals that resided in the far right corner, away from everything else and a few doors that led to unimportant rooms.
'Why isn't he here?' The mother finally asked.
'He frequently goes away. I come here every day, so he lets me take care of the church.'
'Are you even old enough?'
'I am.'
The mother was sceptical but the father just accepted the facts and began to explain the situation. 'Ricky has been getting into so much trouble that we thought to send him here with his uncle until he learns some manners. We agreed to send him to church so he can learn the teachings of God.' The father seemed kind enough, especially compared to his son. Ricky was just something else, something ripped straight out of a Tim Burton movie and I could not figure out what was so captivating about him. 'Ricky, we will drop your things off at your uncles home. You will stay here until this nice young lady has talked some sense into you.'
'Whatever.'
His voice. Gosh I hadn't heard anything like it. It was like the singing of a night owl and I'd stay up all night just to hear it finish it's tune.
The parents quickly stormed out of the church, slamming the large doors hostilely behind them. 'Well?'
'Hm? O-Oh, right, um...sorry, I-I'm (Y/n)!'
'You said that already.' I felt like he had just slapped me in the face. 'So, (Y/n), what do you do around here?' He asked, an unimpressed look on his pale face.
'I-I...usually just pray...f-for my mum. Sometimes I'll clean up, though.'
'Your life sounds so exiting.' He rolled his eyes, plopping himself down on the wooden pews. His sarcasm hurt more than I could describe but it didn't stop me from wanting to get to know him. 'Why do y'pray for y'mum? Can't she just-'
'She's dead...' I cut him off. I didn't mean to speak so harshly, but I didn't want him to converse about my mother. 'I-I...come here to pray for her so she doesn't feel alone in heaven.' I smiled, turning around just so I didn't have to keep looking into his widened eyes.
