Shameless

When a sinner goes to church

The massive dual doors were left open. The early morning sunshine draped the concrete stairs going up to the church like a golden canopy. Pastor Joaquin stood guard at the door. Greeting and interacting with believers as they enter the building, welcome them to the morning service.

Cristian remained at the bottom of the stairwell. He absently pulled at his tie, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He was starting to sweat even though the morning light hadn't yet reached a high enough temperature. His attention was drawn to the big cross atop the church. Sunlight pierced through it and stabbed into his eyes, forcing them to water. He averted his gaze as the dazzling beams turned into spears of conviction, stabbing his soul.

How could he come in as if everything was fine? Although he could plaster on a convincing front for the people, God would see right through him.

God does not require you to be in a church to perceive the truth. He spotted you in the wine cellar and overheard you pleading with another man to kiss you. He was present at Ashly's parents' house when you took Isaac's kiss without hesitation—and want more.

Cristian combed his hair with his fingers. Anxiety grabbed him so tightly that he became dizzy. Just return home. Come up with an excuse and go away. He clenched his eyes tight and pressed the tip of his nose. A weird fire teared up inside him, prickling his hairline.

Oh my God, I'm going to pass out.

He turned to grasp the railing that ran up the side of the steps but instead clutched onto an arm. His ears hummed as he murmured, "I'm sorry," to the guy he'd accidentally grasped. As his balance went haywire, he still held his arm.

A muscular arm wrapped around him and led him to the rail, where he grabbed the chilly metal and leaned unsteadily against it.

“Are you alright?”

The buzzing became ringing. The voice was scarcely audible to him. It appeared to come from a long distance away, much further than immediately next to him.

A solid hand grasped the back of his neck, bending him over slightly. “All you have to do is take a few deep breaths. You'll be fine.”

Cristian did as he was told and took a breath deep into his lungs until the ringing in his ears subsided and his mind cleared.

“Cristian?” Ashly's voice was heard clearly and loudly, and he was concerned. “What's the matter, Cristian?”

“He's fine.” This time, the voice was clear. From close near him, Isaac-speaking. “It was simply a nervous breakdown.”

When Cristian suddenly realized it was Isaac he had held onto, he felt a shudder run through him.

“I can manage it from here.” Ashly's voice broke with a harsh tone as she ordered Isaac to go away in a few sentences.

Cristian gently stood up straight, still holding the rail. He cast a covert glance at Isaac as the man backed away without a fight. Their gazes barely touched before Faustino and Lizella appeared.

“What's the matter?” Faustino addressed his inquiry to Isaac.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “It's just anxiousness. He's all right.”

Lizella was standing close to Ashly, her hand on Cristian's cheek. He gave an uneasy smile. “I'm totally fine.” But his voice was heavy, and his throat was constricted. He wasn't feeling well at all. His gaze shifted from Ashly and her mother to Faustino and Isaac.

Isaac had been a different person from the one who had surrounded him in the wine cellar and violently kissed him the night before.

Don't be a moron. The exterior is what you're seeing in general. You've seen him for who he is when no one is looking. He's the one to keep an eye out for.

Isaac followed his gaze, but the man's eyes were obscured by the big spruce sprouting at the edge of the churchyard.

“Come on,” Ashly murmured, pulling his gaze away from the man. “Let's get in and sit.”

Cristian nodded and gently pulled away from the railing. His mind was clear as he, Ashly, and Lizella ascended the steps to the church door. But as they reached the double doors—and Pastor Joaquin—Cristian felt his uneasiness return.

Please, God, allow me to enter and seat down. Please don't give me another outbreak.

He wasn't sure whether God was even responding to him at all if he ever had—but he had made it a practice to pray whenever he sought guidance. As a reaction, he prayed.

…….

Despite being padded, the seat of the church felt as unyielding as stone. Cristian slumped forward, his elbows uncomfortably pressing into his thighs, his head resting heavily on his palms, his fingers softly scratching into his scalp. A frigid heat sizzled underneath his suit, a slick of seat erupting all over his body. He was becoming dizzy again, but sitting quietly helped keep it at bay.

“Are you sure you're alright?” Ashly questioned gently. She stroked her hand along the back of his head after touching his shoulder. “Are you feeling sick?”

“No.” Cristian breathed forcefully, then stood up and rested against the back of the bench. "I'm Alright."

Ashly's face was constricted. She drew her hand back. “Please accept my apologies. I was just worried.”

Cristian took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “No.” He regretted his rudeness, he said thickly. “I didn't intend to snap. I just...” He made a shaky motion with his head. “I'm not sure what's wrong with me. Perhaps I'm coming down with something.”

“Would you like to go home?” Ashly inquired. “Pastor Joaquin would get it.

“No. It's fine.” Cristian hushed. “There is no reason for us to leave.” He took a big breath and exhaled slowly. “I'm going to be fine.” He feigned a grin. “Really.”

When a hand rested on his shoulder, he almost leaped, his breath caught in his throat. As he raised his eyes, his heartbeat went through the ceiling. Faustino looked down at him instead of the violet eyes he was anticipating.

“How are you?” His eyes were filled with genuine worry.

“I’m…” He looked beyond Faustino, but there was no sign of Isaac. “I'm feeling better.” He didn't, not at all.

Faustino grinned and nodded. “That's great.”

Lizella softly squeezed his arm, and the couple sat quietly behind Cristian and Ashly in the pew.

Cristian shut his eyes momentarily, releasing a deep sigh. Perhaps he was feeling much better after all. Nausea and chilly chills were starting to fade. Cristian started to settle as Ashly placed both of his hands in hers. This was right. This was how it should have been. He had no reason to feel uncomfortable in God's presence. The event a few days earlier was not his fault. What had occurred to him had been imposed on him. Like an alcoholic who has been restrained and compelled to drink. Sure, the booze would taste nice, his body wanting every drop, but it didn't mean he wasn't sick or that he wanted to surrender.

Isaac had made him drink and speak. But it wasn't his choice.