Howard pushed open the creaking gate to the park. It was quite light really under the full moon but it didn't stop Vince appearing as just a tiny, shaking shadow on a bench. He looked up when he heard the gate. Then, letting out a loud sob, he ran to Howard and threw his arms around his neck.
"I've done something terrible." he whispered against Howard's shoulder.
"What?"
"I… I…"
But the rest of his words were stolen by sobs. He just wept, burying himself into his friend's embrace. Howard half-carried Vince back to his house and allowed him to collapse on the beige sheets of his bed. He locked the door to his bedroom and turned to look at his friend.
Vince was pale and weak from crying. He was curled up in a ball on his side and he looked thoroughly depressed. Howard just wanted to hold him, rock him and tell him everything would be okay. But not yet, not until he understood why Vince felt like this. So Howard stayed silent. He just sat down on the bed and waited. He knew Vince would speak when he was ready, it was just a matter of when he would be ready.
Half an hour later, Howard felt the bed shift a little. Thinking he'd fallen asleep, Howard looked down at Vince but the smaller boy's eyes were still wide open, staring and terrified.
"Vince." Howard began quietly, brushing Vince's hair from his face. "I really think you…"
"Likewise also the men," Vince cut in, almost robotic in tone. Howard shut up. He understood, Vince was ready.
"Leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust for one another, men with men "
Vince grabbed Howard's hand suddenly but continued to speak in the same monotone, not looking anywhere but straight ahead of him. Vince looked crazy and Howard felt scared.
"Men with men," Vince repeated, "committing what is shameful, and receiving in themselves the penalty of their error which was due."
Howard frowned but Vince hadn't finished.
"Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God."
"Vince. What are you talking about?" whispered Howard shakily.
"Hell is not a place but a pain worse than anything physical. It lasts forever. A feeling that burns you inside until you can't cope and your whole being is screaming to be released… and then the Devil laughs and it burns you more."
Vince's grip tightened on his hand.
"Dad says I'm going there." he laughed almost hysterically. "He says I'll go there because my clothes suggest I am homosexual and that suggestion is enough."
"Vince." Howard tried to sooth but Vince wasn't listening. He was somewhere far away,
"I told him it was just fashion but he said that God was no respecter of fashion. He said he was just warning me; just warning any demon within me. Warning him that he will be exorcised. And then…" Vince stopped. Howard looked down at him, his blue eyes had flicked sideways, fixed right on Howard and the older boy shuddered, this was terrifying.
"Look." Vince whispered, releasing his grip of Howard's hand and pulling back his sleeve to reveal raw red marks, the skin cut and blistering. Rope burn. Howard's eyes went wide.
"He tied me down to stop the demons from making me escape." Vince continued still staring, still emotionless, pulling back his other sleeve and pulling up his trouser legs to reveal the same marks on each of his limbs. "And then he started to chant, to pray. He shook me. Yelling and screaming. He spoke in Latin. Spiting and shouting."
Suddenly, Vince's resolve broke. His face twisted and he sat up slowly. Howard looked at him. He still looked weird but now he looked like he'd woken up from some kind of terrifying dream. Howard thought about reaching out but he didn't think it would help, so he sat stock still.
"I was so scared." Vince finished quietly, eyes dropping to the bed quilt, which he began to fiddle with. "I begged him to stop but he wouldn't. Said it was for my own good."
"Oh Vince." Howard said softly, cupping his friend's cheek in an action that seemed right and also utterly wrong for this moment in time. He dragged Vince's face up until their eyes met and asked bluntly;
"Do you still fancy men?"
Vince shook his head.
"Are you sure?"
Vince nodded, but his strained expression told Howard he was lying so he continued;
"And does fancying men feel natural to you?"
Vince looked straight into Howard's eyes. How could he lie to him? So Vince nodded.
"Then how can it be wrong?" Howard asked. "If it feels right and it looks right; then it's probably right."
Vince stared at Howard's lips as he spoke. They looked so soft. So kissable. But 'no' he had to stop himself. No one but himself thought that these feeling were normal. Well Howard didn't seem to find it too awful but everyone else treating even the thought as sick and twisted, devil's work and the talk of the mentally ill. He looked into Howard's eyes again. They were so close to each other, mere inches between them. Howard's hand still resting on his cheek, his thumb caressing the protruding cheekbone. It would be so, so easy to just lean forward and kiss him. Then the thoughts of his dad tying him down to the bedposts exploded through his skull. He remembered his dad, wearing his Vicar's garments, stood high above him. He was reading passages and begging the demons to leave his son. He felt the strong Vicar's hands grip and squeeze his skull, tighter like a vice condemning the demons, driving them out. Vince's hands flew to his head. He screamed.
"Vince." Howard gasped, pulling his friend close to his chest. "Vince. Are you okay?"
Vince opened his eyes, panting heavily. It was okay. He wasn't home. This wasn't his bedroom. His dad wasn't here. He was just pressed against the brown of Howard's shirt, safe. He could feels his friend's heart hammering against his ear.
"Howard." he whispered. "What am I supposed to do?"
--
Vince had fallen asleep against Howard's chest, so the taller boy had laid his friend out on the bed. He'd pulled his shoes off and placed them at the end of the bed, Vince would kill him if anything happened to them, before laying the sheets over him carefully. He sighed, Vince looked so small. How could anyone hurt him? How could anyone try to 'fix' him? Why could't other people see how perfect he was? Howard shook himself free of his resentment on Vince's behalf, before he got too wound up. He pulled a blanket from his wardrobe and tip-toed downstairs. He slept on the sofa that night and in the morning Howard's parents were fobbed off with lies of a sleepover and Vince's parents were phoned.
Reverend Noir arrived and Howard couldn't help feel that he was feigning the relief of finding his 'missing' son. Vince padded down the stairs silently. He visibly paled when he saw his Dad. He seemed to shrink too, like he'd suddenly become four years old again. Howard didn't like the affect the Vicar had on his friend and the Vicar didn't like the affect Howard had on his son. They glowered at each other a little.
"Come on Vincent." Reverend Noir said calmly, "We can't be late for the sermon."
As they left, Howard was sure he heard Vince say; "Will God still accept me at his house?"
"Of course." his father promised, "As long as you don't indulge in any ungodly fantasies."
Darkness, angst, exorcism. I don't know where my brain went for this story :(
I'm still not sure I should me posting this.
Please review? xx