Chapter Text
1 Corinthians 6:9-10
Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.
♱
Hyunjin drew a weary breath, obviously tired, before he mumbled his accustomed ending script, or rather rite. “Now, pray with me. Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven…”
After finishing the typical prayer and Hail Mary twice spoken, the person who had been confessing for the span of twenty minutes had left the booth. The confession was a boring one, dull with very vague words that the parishioner chose. Yet Hyunjin couldn’t be any happier, for by reason of their vagueness, he too was permitted to answer in like manner. For today, he just needed everything done, with bare minimum.
That’s the thing that people didn’t understand. Priests were humans too. Sometimes, he just wanted to get over things with, without exceeding too much effort. There were days like that. But of course, Hyunjin had been the overly achiever priest of their small town. He’d been pursuing excellence more than anything. But today, for some odd reason, he felt a little… lethargic.
But before Hyunjin could go out that confession booth, someone suddenly barged inside the confessor’s door.
“Hi Father Hwang, I know your schedule here is only until seven and it’s already a minute past it but…” he huffed, sounding like he was chased by a wolf. “…can we just talk for like five minutes. Promise, it’s gonna be fast. I’m not a catholic, well my mom is… and she’s always attending the Sunday service in Seoul. Anyway, uhm—but i just need a sign. Or some kind of reading.”
It caught Hyunjin off guard.
Verily, the voice was surprisingly too low. Too good. Too sultry. There was something about his voice, even if it was deeper than the normal men’s octave, it sounded pleasurable to the ears. A kind of voice that goes under the skin and gives you chills. A voice that could summon hidden desires. Like something was scratching the back of his ears or depth of his thoughts. It was weirdly arousing. The man sounded like he was born to be a jockey for a radio station. The one listened for midnight masturbation session.
Hyunjin was troubled by his own train of thoughts and sighed.
He hated how he could't even get a clue with how the other person looked like. He was just a dark shadow, he's probably wearing a blcak hoodie and his face was bowed down. If only he could see his face...
Now, he found himself pondering if that man was taller than him, body built of a bouncer with broad shoulders, huge biceps and a manly face. He wondered if that man was around his age, but despite the deep voice, he sounded with certain youthfulness. Perhaps, twenty five, or even younger still.
Or if that man can beat him if they compete in swimming, given that it’s a sport Hyunjin excel in. He could picture him towering over Hyunjin. He was surely not attracted to those kind of men, but his voice was enough for him to get intrigued.
And the fact that his hangul was a bit off, with a lot of informal, conversational words, the man sounded like he grew from abroad, and had just learned Korean a few years ago. But still, the voice awakened a dangerous curiosity.
To be honest, in his younger years, Hyunjin was into boys with slimmer body and definitely shorter than him. If anything, he was drawn to men with feminine features and delicate hands, delicate legs, and pretty small feet. Yes, that specifically weird fetish. It was exactly the reason why he went to seminary. He genuinely believed that something was wrong with him.
Wrong for liking men who looked like girls. He hated how he never desired women. Not that he abhorred them, he actually saw women as pretty and precious creatures. He adored and respected his mom and sisters, even his girl friends back then. But he never lusted over women. Never wanted to fuck around and make children, nor even marry one. He never felt a boner nor the urge to talk to them past the harmless chitchat.
The interest he had always belonged to those what the modern society had called “femboys.”
With his weird taste, he once confessed when he was in senior high school. He was sobbing hard, feeling like a hopeless fool, lost and stupid. And the priest had recommended him to repent. And with that, he ended going to church on Sundays, until he convinced himself to offer himself to God instead of the earthy sins. His mother actually cried when he told her he wanted to go to seminary. She had always wanted grandchildren. And Hyunjin unfortunately wouldn’t be able to give her one.
“Oh, I fear, this is a confession booth for sinners and not a place for astronomy or signs, my child.” Hyunjin had said, “but I can listen to your confessions or burdens, and perhaps offer guidance on how they may be faced. You may return next Sunday, or we may arrange a meeting on a weekday, at such hour when I'm off duty.”
“Ahh—sorry, Father Hwang. I'm kinda nervous, you're so handso—I mean, it's my first time being in a confined space and talking to a wall. Or this, screen. So I can’t see you. Uhm—I will just come back after mass next week, really sorry for wasting your time.” The man stumbled with his words clumsily and left the booth completely.
After some thought, he tried to chase the person he had conversed earlier. But he was already gone. "I should've seen his face..."
The whole week, the voice stayed in his head.
♱
“Beloved brethren,” he began. “In today’s reading, we are reminded of the words written in 1 Corinthians 6:9-10... that those who persist in unrighteousness shall not inherit the kingdom of God. Many tremble at these verses, for they are spoken plainly, without ornament, as though Saint Paul himself sought to awaken those grown comfortable in their transgressions.”
The chapel was hushed in that sacred hour between late afternoon and evening, when golden light streamed through the stained glass and painted the pews in trembling colors.
Hyunjin stood at the ambo, fingers resting lightly against the worn wood, his composure was calm but inwardly restless. Behind him, the faint scent of melting wax lingered as Jeongin moved quietly to tend the altar. He was lighting the final candle with careful hands.
He paused briefly, allowing the quiet murmur of shifting clothes and soft coughs to settle.
“These words are not given that we may condemn one another,” Hyunjin continued, tone gentler now, “but that we may look inward with honesty. For oftentimes, sin does not arrive as a storm that rends the earth, but rather as a whisper that persuades the heart little by little.”
At the front pew, a girl sat alone, her hair pale as morning wheat catching the fractured light from the stained glass above. The strands gleamed almost ethereal. She was wearing a shiny and expensive outfit that didn’t belong to the usual patrons. She’s in what he assumed was Louis Vuitton patterned turtle neck, sleeveless top, a sight that he could only see with people with too much money to spend. Not that people with money didn’t go to his parish, it was just that, wealthy people in his area seemed to dress down to match his humble chapel.
He had not seen her before.
The girl was shifting every now and then, tucking her hair behind her ear every five minutes. She looks uncomfortable, somehow. Looking around once in a while, bringing her thumb to bite her nail.
She looked so lost and Hyunjin hated how he wanted to ask her some questions, out of curiosity, of course. If she’s new to their small town, if she’s just a tourist, or what he could do to her to ease her anxiety… in the most spiritual way.
She was probably in her teens or early twenties. But he was sure that she’s not less than eighteen, at least. Not that he cared about ages. (He just wanted to make sure she’s legal, which was not the point of it all, totally). But her beauty was something one cannot ignore. She stood out more than she might have realized. More like a celebrity face card in a very ordinary setting. She’s too glamorous to be glimmering in a very holy, peaceful and solemn place.
So pretty... Am I bisexual now? Am I half-healed?
As he always knew, he was never attracted to women. Well, he already forgot that because after seminary, he never saw women nor men... people in general, and feel carnal desire. For him, they’re all lambs and he’s a shepherd that needed to guide them. He believed that God chose him to serve people and to lead them to the right way, for their eternal lives to dance in heaven, instead of the pit’s fire of hell.
But this girl was giving him all the confusion he buried years ago. That he wasn’t only capable of being attracted to men, but also to women. He didn’t have the audacity to admit that this woman was really, really overflowing with sexual appeal, hence he felt a slight erection because of her. That was just him, being human. Feeling human emotions. His body reacting in most human way. Nothing else.
He must’ve been relieved, if ever. For it was a confirmation that he’s somehow partially healed. That for the first time, he felt like a normal man. Attracted to a woman and not to his own. A small part of him felt victorious, that the devil had lost his power over him. And felt happy that maybe, his homophobic father was now smiling from the other side of the heaven, if he somehow made it there.
Hyunjin’s gaze lingered a moment too long. There was something unfamiliar in her presence, as though she belonged to another story entirely, one not often written within these chapel walls.
Hyunjin cleared his throat lightly, steadying himself before continuing.
“For the apostle spoke not merely of outward deeds, but of the condition of the heart,” he said. “For pride may dwell within virtue, and vanity may hide behind good works. It is easy to believe oneself righteous when measured beside another man’s failing.”
Behind him, Jeongin stepped quietly across the marble floor, adjusting the brass holder of the sanctuary candle so that its flame burned straight.
Hyunjin allowed his gaze to sweep across the congregation, though he found it returning, against better judgment, back to the girl with the golden hair. The faint crackle of candle wicks sounded behind him, and Jeongin folded his hands respectfully once more near the altar.
“To inherit the kingdom of God,” Hyunjin said, “is not to claim perfection, but to pursue holiness with humility. We stumble, we falter, yet still we are called to rise again.”
As he spoke, the girl finally lifted her head. For a fleeting instant, their eyes met. Hyunjin faltered only for the briefest moment, a pause so slight it passed unnoticed by most, before continuing the homily with grace.
The homily concluded and the chapel seemed to breathe as one body. The last echo of Hyunjin’s voice dissolved into the quiet hush of devotion. Jeongin stepped forward. The bells chimed softly as the Liturgy of the Eucharist began.
Hyunjin washed his hands in the small basin prepared beside the altar, murmuring the prayer, that he might be made worthy to stand before the mystery set upon the holy table. The bread and wine were lifted and offered.
“And He took bread…” Hyunjin spoke, “…and when He had given thanks, He broke it, saying... this is My body, which is given for you.”
The chapel fell deeper into silence. Jeongin knelt faithfully at the side, ringing the small bell thrice as the sacramental bread was elevated.
When the time for communion came, the people stood from their pews one by one, forming a line that curved down the center aisle. Heads bowed, hands folded, they approached with solemn hearts. Hyunjin stood before them. “The Body of Christ,” he said to each communicant.
“Amen,” they answered in turn, receiving the sacramental bread (ostia) with quiet devotion.
An elderly woman approached first, her hands trembling slightly as she received the bread. Then a father with a child beside him, guiding the small hands to fold properly. A young man followed, eyes cast downward, as though burdened by unseen thoughts.
Then came the girl with the pale blonde hair. He was waiting for her to say what people usually say to receive the white ostia as symbol that the person was willingly repenting their sins and accepting the body of Christ. She must’ve said “amen.” But she just bowed her head and offered her hand awkwardly. For at least two seconds, their eyes locked.
Hyunjin felt like those two seconds were two minutes as he completely devoured the girl’s face with his own eyes.
Up close, the color seemed almost unreal beneath the candlelight, soft strands resting against her shoulders like threads of spun gold. He unwillingly catalogued her features. She was pretty from afar and even more breathtaking closer. It surprised him that she has freckles that were too dense spread on his pinkish cheeks. Because afar, he didn’t even notice those. And for the first time, he was mesmerized with those freckles, that he never found appealing before. Her eyes were round, sleepy, lashes curled slightly.
She looked more like a cat than a lamb.
And when she took the body of Christ with her small hand, she opened her mouth, put her tongue out and stuck the ostia there. All while here eyes looked like begging for Hyunjin, he didn't know what she was begging for tho. Grace? Forgiveness? Money? Kindness? Cock?
Heaven knew how long he held his breath as he watched her sticking her tongue like that with half lidded eyes. What a fucking slut. I could shove my dick in that mouth with her tongue sticking out like that. Hyunjin swallowed hard, definitely felt like the hell was suddenly waiting for him. God, help me.
She had smiled softly, too soft that he felt like the angels painted in the walls of the chapel began singing. Hyunjin blinked twice, heart pumping blood too aggressively. She swallowed the ostia immediately after and turned around.
And Hyunjin suddenly froze, knotted his brows, Am I mistaken? Was that an Adam’s apple?
He ignored that briefly as the line continued, devotion moving in steady rhythm until the final parishioner returned to their pew. Hyunjin placed the remaining ostia within the tabernacle, bowing his head briefly before closing its small golden door.
The concluding rites followed as they always had. “The Lord be with you,” he proclaimed.
“And with your spirit,” the congregation answered.
“May Almighty God bless you, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen.”
“Go forth, the Mass is ended.”
“Thanks be to God.”
The final hymn rose softly from the pews, voices blending imperfectly. Jeongin extinguished the altar candles one by one. Parishioners began to leave in quiet murmurs, footsteps softened by the worn stone floor.
Hyunjin remained near the altar, offering a final bow before stepping down to greet those who waited patiently near the front. It had become a custom in this small parish in the province of Jeju, some people would approach him after Mass, exchanging a few words, sometimes seeking counsel, sometimes simply wishing to express their welcome once more.
“Father Hwang,” an elderly woman called warmly, her face creased with kindness that spoke of many years spent in prayer.
Hyunjin smiled gently, inclining his head in greeting. He recognized her well, she always sat by the second pew on the left, rosary wrapped twice around her fragile fingers.
“The homily today was very comforting,” she said, clasping his hands briefly. “We are blessed that you have come to our town.”
“You are too kind,” Hyunjin replied softly. “The blessing belongs to all of us who gather in faith.”
Soon others gathered near, their voices overlapping in polite enthusiasm. A bent old man with a walking cane thanked him for visiting his sick wife the previous week. Another parishioner spoke of how lively the chapel had felt since Hyunjin’s arrival. Some simply bowed respectfully, their expressions warm with quiet approval.
Though he had only been assigned to this humble town for three months, the people had already grown familiar with him, and he, in turn, had begun to recognize their faces with ease. The elderly couple who always arrived early to light candles. The widow who brought fresh flowers every Sunday. The fisherman who sat at the very back yet never failed to attend.
Names, however, were another matter entirely. He remembered stories, illnesses, favorite saints, even the particular way some clasped their hands when praying, yet names would sometimes slip away from him at the most inconvenient moments.
“Father, Father!” another voice called cheerfully.
Hyunjin turned to see Mr. Kang, a stout man with a sun-worn complexion, waving energetically as though greeting an old friend. “Will you bless our new boat next week?” he asked eagerly.
“Of course,” Hyunjin answered with a small nod. “It would be my honor.”
The warmth of their welcome still surprised him at times. Small towns often guarded their traditions carefully, wary of change. Yet here, in this quiet corner of Jeju, they had received him with an openness that humbled him more than he expected.
As the last few parishioners slowly departed, Jeongin began tidying the altar behind him, carefully folding the linen cloth and extinguishing the final candle.
Just as Hyunjin stepped toward the sacristy, his phone vibrated softly in his pocket. The name displayed upon the screen caused him to straighten instinctively.
Bishop Lee Minho
Hyunjin accepted the call with quiet respect. “Your Excellency,” he greeted.
“Father Hwang,” came the calm voice on the other end. “I trust your assignment in Jeju has been… fruitful.”
“Yes, Bishop,” Hyunjin replied. “The parishioners have been most welcoming. I am still learning their ways, but they have shown me much kindness.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” Minho said. “You will need to travel to Seoul next week. There are documents that require your report in person. Nothing troublesome. You know, merely the formalities expected of a newly assigned priest.”
“I understand,” Hyunjin answered.
There was a brief pause before the bishop spoke again. “It has been some time since I last visited Jeju. I believe I shall come see the parish myself soon.”
“You would be most welcome here,” Hyunjin said politely.
“Continue your good work,” Minho concluded. “I will inform you of the exact date.”
♱
“God damn it…” Out of nowhere, the pretty girl’s face with her tongue sticking out, tormented his mind as he shook his head. He needed to focus.
The narrow space of the confession booth was dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of filtered light that slipped through the carved lattice between priest and confessor. The air smelled faintly of old wood and candle wax.
After dismissing the pretty face, his brain decided to focus on his another hyper fixation. Now, he was weirdly hoping to hear that voice again. The deep one that sounded foreign. Maybe he was curious if he’s a foreigner. Maybe that’s the only logical reason why he wanted to hear him again. Just to confirm his hunch that he’s not born Korean.
Hyunjin adjusted the edge of his stool. He had expected the usual murmured confessions... small resentments, careless words, forgotten prayers. And when he already gave up hoping, the person who just sat in the booth spoke. “Hi Father Hwang, it’s me again. You might not remember me but I was here last Sunday too.”
“Yes, I remember you, my child.” He looked side ways, trying to take a peek at the confessor. But the person was wearing a black hoodie again. Face down.
“I already prepared the things I wanna say…” he said, with a voice that was born from smiling, like a proud puppy who finally gathered its thoughts. “So… hmmm… first of all, I'm so sorry for all the terms I wrongfully used. I said I want signs, but I read about Christianity and this confession shit—oh… Ahh, oops—sorry. I mean, confession. This confession session..." He deeply sighed. "Actually I moved here in Jeju just two weeks ago, I’m from Australia, sorry, and grew with people who curses a lot, I mean not my family because they’re so religious. As in, super, duper religious. They're insane. Oh, I mean, they're devoted, not insane—insane. The one who curses a lot is my bestfriend—so yeah. I’m so sorry. I said so many unnecessary stuff.”
So I’m right. He’s a foreigner and just moved here. But his mom is in Seoul. Interesting. Hyunjin thought.
“Anyway, sorry again for all the blabber. Okay... So I will get straight to the point. Father, will I be saved if I stop liking men? And will heaven accept me again if I repent?”
The words lingered in the small space between them. Hyunjin felt like he was washed with cold-iced water. It was the exact question he asked when he was seventeen.
Hyunjin kept his expression composed, though his thoughts moved swiftly beneath the surface. He had spoken on discipline only hours before, on resisting the quiet temptations that crept into the heart. Yet hearing the confession spoken so plainly unsettled something within him.
“Temptation visits many,” Hyunjin replied, choosing his tone with care. “The heart is easily led astray when one walked without vigilance. Yet no soul is beyond the grace of God.”
The man gave a small, uncertain hum. “I have tried to ignore it, promise.” he continued, voice lower now. “But it does not… disappear. It got worst. And my mom found out. She said, I need help from you. I mean, not exactly you, Father Hwang, that I specifically targeted you. No, not that. I mean, the church. My mom cut my allowance off and said I should get help from the church. Yeah—the church. But not for allowance. I have a job now. I mean, help. You know, spiritually or something.”
Hyunjin leaned slightly closer to the screen, his voice firm. “The Lord does not abandon those who seek righteousness,” he said. “Desires may trouble the spirit, yet they need not define thy path. With repentance and devotion, the heart may yet be guided back to its rightful course.”
“Okay, I don't get much of what you've said because you sound too formal and kinda old, yeah? But... what I'm saying is I do not wish to live wrongly. That's what my mom implied,” the man said. “I only… do not fucking know what to do. Oh, sorry for that word. I mean... So please, if you could help me stop being gay...”
Hyunjin clasped his hands together. “There is healing in obedience,” he answered gently. “Attend the Mass faithfully. Seek discipline in prayer. Speak with me, and I shall guide you as best I am able. Such inclinations need not bind you forever. We can have this regular confession, or we can have counselling. For you to get over your lust over men.”
Another pause followed, it was longer this time. Hyunjin could almost sense the uncertainty on the other side of the screen. “You are not condemned, my poor lamb,” Hyunjin added, voice quieter now. “If you repent sincerely, salvation remains within reach. Many have overcome burdens heavier than this.” Hyunjin made sure that his words sounded reassuring.
He didn't understand himself, but he wanted to hear him again. Those broken Hangul, the occasional cursing, the informal tone... I want to hear that voice moan nothing but my name.
Oh, God. No. Stop.
“I see,” the man replied slowly.
Hyunjin exhaled softly, then continued. “Please return next week,” he said. “We shall speak again. Guidance requires patience, and the soul is strengthened through constancy.” The person did not answer immediately. For a fleeting moment, Hyunjin wondered whether he had said things too strongly. "Or if you do not have the time to wait, tomorrow, I could clear my schedule—"
“I can't during weekdays. Is next Sunday okay? Like same time?”
“Yes,” Hyunjin said. “Attend the Mass. We shall continue this conversation. I will help you find clarity.”
Another quiet shift came from the other side. “…okay. I will be here again next week, Father Hwang,” the man said at last.
“Go in peace,” Hyunjin murmured. “Pray with sincerity, and trust that the Lord restores what is troubled.”
As the booth door opened and soft footsteps retreated, Hyunjin remained seated for a moment. The voice lingered in his mind. His fingers slowly rose to his chest, pressing against the steady rhythm beneath his ribs. His heart beat harder than and he couldn't understand why. For a long while, he said nothing.
He took a deep breath, but it did little to steady him. It had been his struggle too.
Long before the collar, before the vows, before the quiet town of Jeju ever knew his name, Hyunjin had wrestled with thoughts he dared not speak aloud. The only person he had said that he was into men was to that priest he once confessed to. And hearing it again from another mouth seemed like he was taken back more than a decade ago.
In his thirty five years of existence, the priesthood had seemed like a sanctuary from himself. Some battles, he believed, were meant to remain silent offerings.
And now, seated in the very booth where others entrusted him with their hidden burdens, another man (who he found the voice attractive) had come seeking guidance for loving men as well. And Hyunjin had spoken with conviction he was not entirely certain he possessed.
Why do I feel like this again? Why am I getting horny over a voice? He asked himself.
Funny thing was, it's even more complicated now. He was attracted to a man's voice when he had not even seen the man’s face. And yet, he had urged him to return. Like a fucker who got turned on by mere voice. Then there was the girl earlier. The brief meeting of eyes during communion had left an impression he could not fully explain. She too had unsettled the careful order he had built within himself.
This was not how discipline was meant to feel. It was confusing (absurd, even) that within the span of a single day he found himself distracted by both a man he had never seen and a woman whose name he did not know.
Very wrong. Deeply inappropriate. But… At least now, I am capable of noticing a woman.
The thought was ridiculous enough that a strained sound escaped him, something between a sigh and a quiet groan of frustration. “Lord, forgive me, for making me want to do dirty things to that man and that girl...” he murmured under his breath.
♱
It was already eleven in the evening when Hyunjin blew the candle by his small bedside altar. The rosary still rested between his fingers.
This had become his habit since arriving in the quiet province of Jeju, to end each day with the full rosary, whispered slowly beneath dim light, as though repetition alone could discipline the heart into obedience. Tonight, however, the rhythm of prayer had not granted him peace.
When he finally lay upon the modest bed provided within the parish residence, his body felt heavy with fatigue, yet sleep would not come.
Instead, the image returned. The beautiful girl.
Her beauty had struck him with unsettling force. Almost ethereal, as though she had stepped briefly from another world before choosing to seat in his homily.
He remembered how her hair had been pale beyond the ordinary shade of blonde, nearer to silver caught in winter light. How the light rested upon the curve of her cheek. Her skin had seemed almost translucent beneath the chapel’s quiet radiance with scattered constellation of freckles. Her lips had been soft in shape, neither smiling nor frowning, existing in that ambiguous stillness that invited curiosity. Even her eyes had held a peculiar softness when they finally met his.
"She's so beautiful. Undeniably so, but..."
Hyunjin turned slightly upon the mattress, staring toward the small altar where the statue of Saint Vincent Ferrer stood beside the crucifix, both figures silent witnesses to his restless thoughts.
There had been a moment. It was brief and perhaps imagined. When she lifted her chin slightly to receive the sacramental bread upon her tongue, the line of her throat had revealed something. In that angle, the turtle neck slid down a little and there was a subtle prominence beneath pale skin. An Adam’s apple.
Hyunjin pressed his fingers against his temples, exhaling slowly.
“She is a man… is she not?” he murmured softly. He could not be certain. The image remained frustratingly unclear. It was not obvious enough to confirm. However, it was too distinct to dismiss entirely as illusion. His chest tightened with unease.
“If that person is a boy, then I am not really healed,” he whispered, the admission tasting bitter upon his tongue. “I am drawn still… toward men. A pretty boy, specifically.”
His gaze lifted toward the crucifix, seeking something steady to anchor the restless tide within him. “Lord,” he breathed, quieter now, “deliver me from desires that cloud the purpose entrusted unto me. I wish only to serve worthily the calling you has permitted me to bear.”
He groaned softly, pressing the rosary once more against his chest as though its cool beads might calm the fevered disarray of his mind. “I should not wish to see him again. That person I thought was a woman,” Hyunjin whispered, correcting himself hastily, “nor anticipate the next homily with such… selfish expectation.”
Hyunjin had never been this confused his entire life.
"I'm definitely not healed, for having such lewd thoughts recently. God, please free me from homosexuality. I want to be deserving to lead your children."
He prayed harder for guidance, for the stop of being greedy, for wanting to see that pretty face next homily, for wanting to see him stuck his tongue out again in front of him to receive the body of Christ, for wanting that same tongue to lick the base up to the crown of his dick, for wanting him to suck Hyunjin's balls, for wanting him to beg and cry hard while Hyunjin mouth fucked him merciless—
“Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners...”
The night had deepened when he finished the prayer as a sudden knock broke the silence. Another knock followed, firmer this time. He stood from his bed, the wooden floor faintly creaking beneath steps. The knock came again, echoing lightly against the narrow hallway walls.
“Coming,” he called, though no reply came.
When Hyunjin opened the door, he found the girl (or rather, the boy who looked so convincingly like one), standing beneath the weak glow of the lone lamppost. The dim light softened every edge of his face, yet could not hide how striking he was. His features were delicate, almost unreal, pale hair stirred gently by the night breeze. His eyes were wide, luminous even in the dark, reflecting something mesmerizing that made Hyunjin’s breath falter.
So beautiful, even in silence.
Hyunjin slightly frowned when he saw this boy wearing completely different clothes. He was in skimpy black tight dress, concealing only down to his ass. His bare toned legs, smooth and milky white, shivered slightly due to the cold air (which he wanted to part them open wide). The dress completely hugged his small frame, dipping narrower along the curve of his waist. Oh, fuck. He wanted to bend him over, there and then.
“Yes,” Hyunjin said gently, steadying his voice. “How may I help you, my child?”
The smaller figure did not answer.
Those eyes only looked at him... searching, almost pleading, as though words failed him at the very moment he needed them most. His lips trembled faintly, parting without sound, and then a single tear slipped down his cheek, glistening briefly before disappearing down his face.
And Hyunjin was a monster for loving every inch of the view. Of how fragile the boy looked, with his chin lifted up just to meet his gaze. He looked too vulnerable, that those pretty lonely expression of his face was perfect for a cum shot. Instinctively, he reached forward, intending to wipe the tear away.
The priest lowered his face, closing the gap between them, with his hand slowly landing on the damp cheek. Their breaths mingled for less than a second, as Hyunjin felt his whole body tingled when he got to smell the boy up close. Vodka and cherry. But the boy startled, pushing lightly against his chest before turning away. Afterwards, he ran.
A small piece of paper slipped from the boy as it landed on the ground. Hyunjin bent to pick it up.
010-0320-0915
Father Hwang, please call me.
>>>>>