Sins of the Flesh

CHAPTER EIGHT--Because God Made You This Way

"God made you perfect for his plan."

The very next morning, Oliver's heart swells at the sight of Blake at his locker. He has to restrain himself from hugging the boy right there in the hallway even though that's exactly what he wishes he could do. Instead, he shuts his locker as quietly as possible, clutches his books to his chest, and shuffles over to stand next to Blake.

"Hi," he says softly.

When Blake acknowledges his presence right away, a small, timid smile creeps onto Oliver's face.

"Hi," Blake responds, snapping his locker door shut.

Biting his lip out of habit, Oliver stares down at his shoes. They're a little scuffed. He'll have to clean them when he gets home. His mother hates when his shoes are scuffed.

"You – you weren't here yesterday," Oliver says.

"I'm aware," Blake says slowly. "I wasn't feeling well."

Oliver nods. He thinks that Blake is lying, but it isn't really his place to call him out on such a thing, especially if the issue between them was the real reason Blake had been absent from school.

"I hope you're better," Oliver whispers.

"Oliver," Blake says gently. "Look at me."

Gosh, if Blake didn't look fantastic today, Oliver's mind reels, taking in Blake's ensemble. He's got this vest over a tight white shirt and black jeans and oh wow, his eyes look so blue today.

"You're still my friend, right?" Oliver asks in a panic, blurting the words out in a rush.

Blake appears taken aback at the question. "Of course I'm still your friend. I think the real question is...do you still want to be my friend? Even after knowing everything you know."

"I'll always want to be your friend," Oliver says. "Always."

It's true. Oliver has never had a friend quite like Blake. Completely disregarding his sexuality and his lack of religion, Oliver has never felt more in tune with another human being. He has never been so close to another person outside of his youth group. His best friend back home, Skylar, was certainly a friend, a good friend. But he didn't hold a candle to Blake.

"So me being – being gay isn't an issue?" Blake asks as if he needs the affirmation.

"No," Oliver says with a shake of his head. "You being gay isn't an issue. I'm sorry that I – I still don't understand a lot of things. But I'm trying. I'm trying really hard."

"Oliver you don't-" Blake reaches out a hand toward Oliver as if he wants to touch his shoulder, but he seems to think better of the idea and drops it at the last minute. "You just have to be you. And we'll figure it out."

Oliver's breath catches in his chest.

You just have to be you.

So why can't he do that?

----------

Wednesday after school, Blake and Oliver accept their coffee orders from the coffee shop. After drama rehearsal, Oliver had asked Blake if he wanted to accompany him back to their spot outside of town. The pretty field holds a special place in Oliver's heart now, for reasons he doesn't quite comprehend, but it's just so peaceful there. He needs a little bit of peace in his life.

The ride to the field is mostly uneventful. Oliver drives because Blake still doesn't know how to get there and they spend most of the time discussing trivial things like tests and music.

When they get there, they realize they don't have any blankets to lay down in the grass, so instead they prop themselves up on the hood of Oliver's little car and stare at the clouds as they pass.

"Can I ask you about your mom?" Oliver asks, arms tucked under the back of his head.

"Um, sure," Blake says, though he sounds completely caught off guard at the sudden topic.

"I just – I don't know why but I wonder sometimes...do you remember her at all? I know you said she died when you were young but do you remember anything?"

Blake swirls the last bit of coffee around in his cup and sets it aside. "It gets harder to remember her face. But I – I still remember the way she smells."

"The way she smells?" Oliver prompts.

"They say smell is one of the best senses for triggering memories. Or something like that," Blake shrugs. "My dad never got rid of her perfume so I keep it in my room and on the days I really miss her I smell it and try to remember. I remember singing with her in the kitchen when we made cookies. I remember her in a yellow sundress at one of my tea parties. I remember her reading me novels. And I remember the way her face lit up when she laughed at stuff my dad would say."

"She sounds lovely," Oliver says with a sad smile, eyes still on the sky.

"She was," Blake confirms.

"Do you – do you think she knew? About you, I mean."

"About me being gay? I think it was a hard thing to ignore, really. My dad said he knew when I was three so I figure she knew too. If she didn't know before my dad, I'm sure they talked about it more than once."

"Do you think she would have accepted you?" Oliver asks.

"I think so," Blake says softly.

Oliver nudges Blake's foot with his own on top of the car. When Blake looks over at him, Oliver throws him an encouraging smile. Blake returns it.

"You're lucky," Oliver says, "to have such accepting parents. It's nice that they love you no matter who you are. Or what you believe."

"...You don't think your parents are the same way?" Blake wonders.

Turning his eyes back up to the sky, Oliver watches the clouds drift slowly and silently. It's a question he's been struggling with a lot lately and he's not too sure he has an answer.

"I don't know," he eventually says. "It's different with them, I guess, because they are so religious."

"My mother was a Christian," Blake informs him. "She went to church almost every Sunday. But she still loved me."

"Your – your mom was a Christian?" Oliver asks because for some reason he hadn't thought of this before. He remembers Blake telling him that he went to Sunday school a few times when he was younger, but he hadn't made the connection. His mind begins to race with ideas and worries.

"Yup," Blake confirms. "Church was just never my dad's thing. Most of the time she went alone and my dad stayed home with me."

But that isn't what Oliver's thinking about.

It destroys your life because it destroys any chance you have of getting into Heaven.

His mother's words haunt him. Yes, he has realized that his mother doesn't know everything about the universe. Yes, he knows that there are contradictions that he is struggling with and trying to comprehend but...

Heaven.

Blake's mother was a Christian and if she was as good a person as Blake has described, she is most definitely there. She's just there, beyond this life, beyond the gates and she's probably smiling down on Blake right now and Blake won't ever get to see her again.

"You're quiet," Blake comments.

"Heaven," Oliver blurts.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, why does this always happen when he's around Blake? He wants to slap himself. Around everyone else, Oliver is calm and composed and he thinks before he speaks, the way anyone should. However, when it comes to Blake, it's like everything is flipped upside down and his filter malfunctions and he just spits things out and no, no, no.

"What about it?"

"Nothing," Oliver says quickly, attempting to stave off the inevitable argument.

Blake sits up on the hood of the car and angles himself to stare down at Oliver, who remains frozen in place.

"What about Heaven, Oliver?" Blake asks firmly.

"I – I was just thinking about your mom," Oliver admits. "And how if she was a Christian...well, you know. She's in Heaven. It's – it's a nice thought is all. I mean they way you described her, she sounds amazing and it's only right that she went-"

"That's not what you were thinking," Blake says, face going blank.

"Yes, it is," Oliver insists, though he knows the quiver in his voice gives him away.

"No. You were thinking about Heaven and how I'm not going there."

"No, that's not-"

"Fuck you," Blake snaps, hopping off the hood of the car.

Oliver sits up straight, ready to run after Blake again if necessary. "Blake, I wasn't even-"

"That's exactly what you were thinking. You were thinking that my mother's in Heaven because she believed in God and you were thinking about how I won't ever get to see her again," Blake says, shaking his head with a hard smile on his lips. "I can't believe this. After – no."

With that, Blake abruptly turns and makes to walk away but Oliver jumps up and reaches Blake before he even makes it to the trunk of the car.

"Please, that's not-"

Blake spins around, angry tears forming in his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Don't you dare," Blake spits. "Just stop – stop lying to me. And fuck, if you would just – it's like they've brainwashed you!" he yells. "It's like you're a part of this cult and no matter how many steps forward you try to take, you take a giant leap back and you – ugh! You just don't get it. You just don't get it, do you? I don't believe in God! I don't believe in God, Oliver! And I don't believe in your fictitious world of Heaven and Hell with Earth in between! I don't believe in any of it! My mother isn't in your Heaven," he says with a harsh bite and a furious face. "She isn't in Heaven. She's dead. She's gone. And I'll never see her again, never. And it has absolutely nothing, nothing to do with me being one of your stupid sinners because that's a fact! So thank you for reminding me that she's gone and thank you for being so careless as to bring it up! You don't understand anyth-"

"Stop treating me like I'm stupid!" Oliver explodes.

His blood boils, his fists clench at his sides and this angry bit of frustration curls around his heart. Blake blanches, face going pale. His jaw snaps shut immediately and he stares at Oliver as if he doesn't have any idea who he is anymore.

"Stop treating me like I'm – like I'm some kind of invalid who can't grasp basic concepts! Stop treating me like I'm a child who needs to be re-taught the ways of the world! Stop treating me like I'm an idiot!" Oliver shouts as tears begin to flow and he hates that he can't stop crying lately, he hates that the tears keep coming. His throat closes but he chokes out his words because he can't take this anymore. "S-stop acting like I'm stupid and don't understand anything you say. Don't t-talk down to me. I know I don't understand everything, I know we don't believe the same things but you can't just – just do that. You promised you'd never mock my faith and you said that I just had to be me. You said that. And I can't help it that I grew up learning something differently. I can't help it that my parents raised me this way. But I believe. I believe in God and I believe in Heaven and Hell."

Blake stares back with unblinking eyes but Oliver can still see the shimmer of tears there.

"I don't understand why you believe in a fairy tale," Blake whispers, voice dripping with desperation.

"Because it isn't a fairy tale to me," Oliver says brokenly. "Because I need to believe that there's something more, something greater than just this. I need to believe that someone's out there looking over me. Because some days...God is all I have left. When things are terrible, when I feel so lonely I could cry, when nothing – when nothing makes sense, I – I need to believe that there's someone out there who cares about me."

"Oliver," Blake says, "your parents love you. They care about you a lot."

"Do they? Do they care about who I really am or do they just care about the son they raised to be a perfect, God-fearing little boy who participates in Bible study every night? Everything seems like a lie now, everything seems wrong and I can't make sense of what's up or what's down or what's bad. And I can't talk to – I don't have anyone else who understands so God is all I have left."

Blake takes a step forward. Oliver watches him through blurry eyes as Blake rests one hand on his cheek.

"He isn't all you have," Blake says. "You have me, too."

Blake's fingers on his skin and the genuine, loving look in his eyes causes Oliver to snap.

He rushes forward, sins be damned, shoving Blake against the back door of his car and he slams their mouths together in a fast kiss. He shifts closer and closer until he can feel the heat of Blake's body and then he realizes what he's doing and he needs to stop. But he doesn't want to.

But then he can't breathe because it's too hot, too fast. He breaks the kiss.

He feels Blake's breath on his lips.

Sobs resonate through his body so forcefully, cries replacing the silence and Oliver's legs give out beneath him. He falls to ground, Blake falling with him. He curls into Blake, clawing at his chest and burying his face into the crook of Blake's neck.

Everything is falling apart.

"I'm here," Blake whispers into his hair.

"But you shouldn't be," Oliver weeps. "You shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be here."

"Everything's going to be okay," Blake attempts to assure him.

"No it isn't, nothing's right anymore," Oliver says, deep, painful cries causing his body to shudder and his chest to ache. "I shouldn't want this, I shouldn't want you."

"It's okay to want things, Oliver."

"It isn't okay to want this," Oliver breathes against Blake's neck. "It isn't – how – how can something so wrong feel so right? I don't understand, I don't understand any of it. Why do I – why do I want this? Why am I like this? Why?"

"Because, silly," Blake says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Oliver's head, "God made you this way."