Latter Day Sinner

Chapter 2

The priest's home was far more comfortable than it looked from the outside. While the exterior was cold, grey brick and flat white panelled windows, the inside was very, very warm. Splashes of red, gold and orange decorated every possible surface, with several posters covering the wall. Some were, of course, religious – paintings of Jesus or saints. But there were others. Band posters – some of which that made Frank raise his eyebrows in surprise – lined a wall by the staircase. What really caught his attention, though, were the pictures stuck up haphazardly around the cluttered desk to the corner of the living room. They looked hand-drawn in a style that was reminiscent of comic books. Needless to say, it wasn't really what Frank had expected of the home of a priest.
The sofa that Frank was perched on was made of some old, thickened leather that had perhaps once been black, but was now a dusty brown with occasional spots of red. As Gerard sat down on it, it gave out a soft creak and the unmissable scent of stale cigarettes. Gerard smiled, passing Frank a mug of tea.
"You have a nice home, Father," Frank commented, taking a gentle sip from his mug. He fought the urge to moan, because hell – Gerard made a good cup of tea. It warmed his throat and chest, and he felt his whole body relaxing, losing the tension that remained on his shoulders. Gerard smiled, looking over the rim of his cup at Frank.
"Thank you, Frank. I haven't been in it for very long, but I think I've managed to personalise it," he said, looking fondly at a David Bowie poster plastered onto the fading wallpaper. Frank smiled politely and continued to just sip at his tea, not speaking for the time being. Maybe if he didn't mention it, Gerard would forget all about the window.
However, if anyone was going to forget about something like that, it certainly wasn't going to be a priest. A few moments later, Gerard set his mug down on the table and fixed Frank with a stern look.
"Now, Frank. As grateful as I am for you being so co-operative with this whole window business, the fact remains that you destroyed public property. If I don't take action against you, the police will," he explained. Frank sighed, setting his own cup down. He was almost tempted to give him puppy dog eyes, but he was pretty certain that it wouldn't work one bit. Frank just nodded in agreement.
"I know, sir," he mumbled. Gerard gave a soft smile.
"So, here is my proposition. I'll call your parents and tell them what you did, so they can think of their own punishment. Alongside that, I'd like you to do some jobs for me around the Church, to help pay off the money I'll have to spend on the new window. Is that fair enough?" he asked gently. Frank wanted to complain about his treatment, but he had to admit that yes, it was a very good deal. It was better than getting the cops involved, anyway. Frank ran his hands over his jeans and sighed, before eventually looking up at Gerard.
"Yes. That's...very generous," he said sincerely. Gerard smiled, reaching over and putting a hand on Frank's knee.
"I'm glad you think so. I'll see you tomorrow morning at seven, so you can help me prepare for the service at nine. Is that okay?" he asked, watching Frank carefully. Frank was about to open his mouth to complain, but he caught Gerard's eyes. Once again, there was that vague shadow of amusement buried in the golden hazel of his irises, almost like he knew exactly what Frank was going to say. It was unnerving, to say the least, to have someone staring through you. Especially if that person was a priest. All at once, every dirty or immoral thought Frank had ever had seemed to spring to his mind, projected onto the galactical shimmer of the priest's eyes, and Frank was ashamed.
"Yes, Father," Frank breathed weakly, chewing on his lip ring. Gerard nodded, smiling softly as he picked his mug back up. He took a small sip and sighed.
"Thank you, Frank," he said gently, before motioning that Frank should have more of his own tea. Frank felt...strange. Not bad, just strange. Had he been anywhere else, he'd have ruled out the idea of a religious experience, but now it seemed entirely possible and likely. He'd never felt anything like it before – like a rush of pure energy igniting his bones, setting him alight from the inside. He wondered if Gerard could see the light shining through him – was it light or hellfire? He imagined that the light was shining shadows onto the sharp cuts of the priest's face, yet the older man had no reaction. He sat as serenely as a saint, sipping out of his porcelain cup. The clink of his squared teeth against the rim echoed through Frank's head like the toll of a bell and he found his hand moving to grasp the other man's before he could stop it. It wasn't his fault. He felt so overwhelmed, he needed to feel something real. To his upmost surprise, Gerard just smiled softly.
"Can I help you, Frank? You look...strange," he admitted. Frank swallowed.
"Father, have you ever spoken to God?" he asked, his voice tight. Gerard smiled, a fond, adoring look passing over his eyes – extinguishing the amused fire that was already dying in them.
"Well, yes. Every day, I speak to God as many times as I feel He will allow it. I think there is no better love than the love of God, and so I speak to him at every given moment," he explained. Frank made a frustrated noise and shifted.
"Has he ever spoken back?" he asked. He was just desperate to pin a cause to the strange feeling in his mind. Gerard tilted his head, that same whimsical smile on his lips.
"Yes and no. He's never spoken to me, but I know he hears me, and I know he loves me. I get this...feeling," his eyes were glazed over slightly, a smile still playing around his lips. It was endearing to Frank, but didn't help much in terms of his predicament.
"Does it feel like your whole body is made of light and...and like you might explode?" he asked, his tone veering on desperation. Gerard laughed softly, but nodded.
"Yes, Frank. That's exactly what it feels like,"