Arthur isn't Catholic, but he finds himself walking into the large cathedral near his house one Saturday evening. Not because he's had any sort of religious awakening, oh no, but because he thinks he's seen an angel. A beautiful angel in white robes that contrast so wonderfully with dark tan skin. And maybe he's been at the pub all evening, and maybe thoughts of debauching that angel are running through his mind as he climbs the large church steps.
The choir is practicing. He sees a figure hunched over in prayer on a pew in the front, he quickly slides in next to the other, bending over slightly to mimic the image of prayer. It's his angel. Too old to be a choir boy, but in the same robes. Those same perfect robes… Arthur isn't interested in boys though. (Not terribly interested in men either.) But this…he's not sure what to call him, so he sticks with angel. No…engel is better. He feels like he's in one of his old books, he hears Latin in the choir, but he wants nothing more than to whisper Anglisc in the other's ear.
Suddenly fierce hazel eyes are on him, and he realizes he's been staring, and perhaps he's leaned in a little too close… His eyes are wonderful, hypnotizing, but this is not the expression he wants. He wants that passive serenity, that look of utter surrender. He wants those expressions aimed at him. He wants to replace God in the boy's head.
"There's no mass tonight."
It's practically hissed out, not the sweet voice he was expecting, but deep accented English. Italian or Spanish, maybe. It's too hard to tell from the hushed tone. Arthur notices the way the other's nose crinkles in disgust. He must smell the alcohol on him. He's not drunk though, not quite. "I came to pray. I simply noticed that you look far too old to be in choir boy robes."
"They aren't- I'm in seminary."
He's got that look on his face that shows he's trying not to swear, Arthur quickly recognizes it because he's worn it himself so many times in the faculty lounge room. "And you look far too young for that."
"I'm eighteen! That's plenty fucking old enough!"
His cheeks are red and he suddenly looks ashamed, Arthur can't help but wonder what a boy like him is doing here. "You should be in university at your age." Not bowing down to some old myth in the sky. For a second he's worried he's said the last part out loud, because the other's expression is suddenly hard to read.
"That stuff's useless."
"Even Aloysius went to school."
"My brother is going to school. That's all we can afford. Why am I even- Get back to your praying."
"There's scholarships."
"For smart people. I don't even like school! I want to be a priest! Now leave me alone you fucking drunk!"
"It seems my engel is really a dēofol."
"The hell did you just call me?"
"How many times will you have to pray the rosary for swearing in church? Hmm?" Arthur wonders if he's gone too far, the boy looks like he might hit him, and maybe he's drunker than he thought. He never meant to even talk to the other. But even in his anger, there's a beauty to the boy's features. A beauty that he doesn't want to leave.
"I don't think you're really here to pray. And I don't think you're even really Catholic. Those words weren't Latin, they sound like some kind of devil worship language."
"And that is why the clergy need to be educated. Everything is devil worship to you lot." He looks like he's about to reply, but there's a sudden shout of "Lovi!" from the back of the church, and he just blushes again and makes a shushing noise. Arthur turns and sees a boy waving from the door. He looks remarkably similar to the boy next to him, though younger, and a bit more feminine. "Lovi?"
"Lovino. Don't come here again."
And suddenly his engel is gone. Arthur leans back to stare at the large stained glass window as another hymn is sung, barely registering the sweet notes of the choir as thoughts of Lovino swirl through his head and he starts wondering what time mass starts tomorrow…