Fic: Catechism (6/9, WIP)
Nov. 8th, 2009 09:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eff_realityCatechism
Billy/Dom, AU. Ages have been adjusted. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dashery.
Rating: R
Warning: Underage sexual situations. Catholicism kink.
Feedback: is my anti-drug. Help keep me off the pipe.
Previously: Confession I|First Holy Communion|Confession II|Conversation|Confirmation
Confession III.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been... two days since my last confession.
I'm sorry for being so formal. You must be tired of the routine, with how often I've been coming to you lately. But if I can't be honest with you, then who can I be honest with? Certainly not myself. Besides, I think you know everything I say before I say it—and everything I don't say, for that matter.
I feel ridiculous for praying about this repeatedly. Like a wee girl with a diary. It's been a year since I last saw him, but I can't help it. It's become like this illness that eats me up inside.
He stopped coming to St. Catherine's after that morning—I know you were there, I felt you. I feel responsible for that. I feel like I betrayed his trust, and I should have done everything in my power to make him feel safe enough to come back here. I'm pretty sure he's been attending mass elsewhere, but I wanted to look after him. I still do.
His mother told me yesterday that she's sending him to boarding school next month for his secondary. I hope he continues on the path that he's on while he's there. I know that probably goes against everything I've been taught within these walls and without, but... in my heart of hearts, I know that that's what's best for him, and in my heart of hearts, I know that you're on the side of what's best for him, too.
As far as what happened last year, when he came to me... I know I did nothing to encourage or prompt that, and I still hope I handled it the way you would have wanted me to. I think I did all I could. But I still can't help but wonder about it. What he was thinking and why he did it. I'm not sure there was anything sexual or even impure about it. I think he approached me with the best intentions, as a Catholic. Again, I know I sound ridiculous. But I have faith in him and how I brought him up here.
There's so much fear here... I'd be lying if I said I didn't share some of it. But I've always wondered whether or not it's warranted. I've been around the world, seen how it works in different languages and religions... I met this man in the States, of all places—he was from the South, God-fearing Capital of the World, I'm sure you've heard of it. He was one of the homeless men who came to the shelter where I was stationed. He was a character. Ehm. But he lived a very simple life with a very simple philosophy, and that was just to try your best to love everyone, not despite their flaws but because of them. And he had some very interesting, unconventional ideas about what constituted flaws and what didn't. He really opened my eyes. And I remember laying awake in my little room that night, wondering for the first time if I had chosen the right path. That was almost ten years ago now, but... I find myself thinking of him a lot lately.
Take from all that what you will, Father.
Ash Wednesday
Billy/Dom, AU. Ages have been adjusted. For
dashery.Rating: R
Warning: Underage sexual situations. Catholicism kink.
Feedback: is my anti-drug. Help keep me off the pipe.
Previously: Confession I|First Holy Communion|Confession II|Conversation|Confirmation
Confession III.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been... two days since my last confession.
I'm sorry for being so formal. You must be tired of the routine, with how often I've been coming to you lately. But if I can't be honest with you, then who can I be honest with? Certainly not myself. Besides, I think you know everything I say before I say it—and everything I don't say, for that matter.
I feel ridiculous for praying about this repeatedly. Like a wee girl with a diary. It's been a year since I last saw him, but I can't help it. It's become like this illness that eats me up inside.
He stopped coming to St. Catherine's after that morning—I know you were there, I felt you. I feel responsible for that. I feel like I betrayed his trust, and I should have done everything in my power to make him feel safe enough to come back here. I'm pretty sure he's been attending mass elsewhere, but I wanted to look after him. I still do.
His mother told me yesterday that she's sending him to boarding school next month for his secondary. I hope he continues on the path that he's on while he's there. I know that probably goes against everything I've been taught within these walls and without, but... in my heart of hearts, I know that that's what's best for him, and in my heart of hearts, I know that you're on the side of what's best for him, too.
As far as what happened last year, when he came to me... I know I did nothing to encourage or prompt that, and I still hope I handled it the way you would have wanted me to. I think I did all I could. But I still can't help but wonder about it. What he was thinking and why he did it. I'm not sure there was anything sexual or even impure about it. I think he approached me with the best intentions, as a Catholic. Again, I know I sound ridiculous. But I have faith in him and how I brought him up here.
There's so much fear here... I'd be lying if I said I didn't share some of it. But I've always wondered whether or not it's warranted. I've been around the world, seen how it works in different languages and religions... I met this man in the States, of all places—he was from the South, God-fearing Capital of the World, I'm sure you've heard of it. He was one of the homeless men who came to the shelter where I was stationed. He was a character. Ehm. But he lived a very simple life with a very simple philosophy, and that was just to try your best to love everyone, not despite their flaws but because of them. And he had some very interesting, unconventional ideas about what constituted flaws and what didn't. He really opened my eyes. And I remember laying awake in my little room that night, wondering for the first time if I had chosen the right path. That was almost ten years ago now, but... I find myself thinking of him a lot lately.
Take from all that what you will, Father.
