Latter Day Sinner

Chapter 19

Gerard considered himself very self-aware. He personally thought that was what made him such a good Priest – he knew what he believed in, knew what he doubted, and he could apply that to his sermons. Not a word passed his lips that he didn't truly believe in, for the most part. Of course, of recent, there had been one or two exceptions to that rule – and all of them had to do with his situation involving Frank.
He didn't use the term 'relationship' for the moment. As well as being technically incorrect (he had, after all, just broken up with the boy), it didn't feel right. He had never truly given himself to Frank in the way you should when you're in a relationship. A part of him had always been tied to the Church and, as much as he might deny it, a part of him was tied to his brother, too.

It'd been years since Mikey died. The metal contraption wrapped around the lower part of his leg was a constant, painful reminder of every step he took into the world without his favourite companion by his side. With each sharp incision the cheap metal cut into his skin, he was reminded of the thousands of smiles he'd never see again.
If there was a Heaven, and if anyone could get into it, it would be Mikey. For each breath of sinful intention he gasped, he exhaled a beautiful purity that could put a Saint to shame. Even that soldier, who Gerard thought he should blame for his brother's death, had a special place in his heart. Perhaps, though, that was an opinion only formed now that he had his own version of their love story.
Frank. Frank was...different. That much had been clear to him from the beginning. He'd been expecting an aggressive, ill-mannered punk with little regard or remorse for anyone but himself. Instead, he'd been delivered a person made from liquid gold, whose brilliance ran through the fault-lines in his own foundations, and made him shine the brightest he ever could. The relationship was tremulous, sure, but Gerard couldn't pretend to think that that was entirely Frank's fault. He was aware that his own insecurities got in the way of their potential happiness. His absolute devotion, his obsession, even, to the idea of purity. As abstract an idea as it might be, be found himself chasing it relentlessly – and for what cause? He already knew that he was probably the only member of his church who actually felt a glimmer of that fabled 'Catholic guilt'. He hadn't been entirely truthful to Frank before. Yes, the other Priests were embezzling funds and stealing from donations – but it went so much deeper than that.
Gerard couldn't say too much about it. Being kicked out of the Church would be the least of his problems if he made too much of a fuss about what was going on – but he knew he hadn't been the only one to break their celibacy oath.
That's what truly bothered him about all this. That was why he couldn't allow himself to be with Frank. He couldn't be a part of that hypocrisy. He couldn't.

When Gerard awoke that Sunday, he felt different. Not bad, necessarily, but he'd been better. There was feeling, like a tugging at the back of his mind, only growing stronger as he became more conscious. By the time he was awake and upright, his mind was practically screaming with the shrill cry of alarms. There was something that needed his attention - that much was for sure. But what?
At that point, Gerard made the first mistake of his day: he ignored it. He was a busy man, after all, and if it was truly important, then the thought would surely surface once he'd done some tasks to clear his mind.

The mornings – even Sunday mornings – weren't a special occasion for Gerard. While Frank had been helping him at the church, he'd always rise a little earlier to make sure he looked good (a fact that he only very reluctantly, and grimly admitted to), but now there was no such pressure. He got to the Church earlier than he had in weeks, and was – for the most part – in a very jovial mood. He struggled a little doing the morning's tasks, but he was used to it. Having Frank around to help him out had been convenient, but he could manage.

That was mistake number two. He'd already told himself that thinking about Frank was practically forbidden. It was a sin by its own merit. He tried to go about his morning as normal – placing Bibles into pews, cleaning and dusting, setting up his sheets – but he knew something was missing.