The morning sun was a cruel joke. Pale and thin, it filtered through the grimy windows of Northview High as Jake shuffled through the hallways, his black eye a livid blossom of purple and yellow, his split lip scabbed and raw. Kids stared. Whispers followed him like a tail. He ignored them all, his eyes scanning the crowd for one face.
Simon.
Jake finally found him sitting alone at the far end of a picnic table outside, picking at a sandwich he clearly had no interest in eating. The other students flowed around him like water around a stone, their laughter and chatter never touching him. Jake watched from a doorway, his chest tight with something he couldn't name. Guilt, maybe. Or longing. Or the strange, electric thrill of shared secrets.
He waited until the bell rang, until the courtyard emptied, and then he followed Simon toward the bike rack at the side of the building. The area was deserted, shaded by a row of overgrown hedges that blocked the view from the main windows.
"Simon?"
Simon flinched, his hands flying up as if expecting a blow. When he saw it was Jake, his face went through a rapid-fire succession of expressions. Surprise. Confusion. Fear. And then a weary resignation that made him look older than his years.
"What do you want?" Simon's voice was dull, hoarse, scraped raw. Probably from the screaming last night, Jake realized. From crying.
"I need to talk to you," Jake said.
Simon's gaze turned even warier. He looked at Jake sidelong while fiddling with the lock on his rusty bike, half-cringing like he was expecting to be hit. "About what?"
Jake stepped closer, his heart hammering. He lowered his voice. "Simon, I...I saw you. Last night. In the church."
Simon froze. His face drained of color. He backed up until his shoulders hit the brick wall of the school, his hands shaking. "You...you were there?" he asked, his voice a raspy whisper. "You saw?"
Jake nodded. "Everything."
For a long moment, Simon just stared at him, his mouth open, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Then his legs folded and he slid down the wall, landing in a heap on the concrete, his head in his hands.
"Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God..."
Jake immediately crouched beside him, close enough to smell stale sweat. "Hey. Hey, look at me."
Simon looked up, his eyes red-rimmed, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Are you going to tell? Everyone? The police?"
"No."
The word hung between them, heavy and absolute. Simon blinked and wiped his nose. "What?"
"I'm not going to tell anyone." Jake's voice was low, urgent. On impulse, he reached out, putting his hand on Simon's shoulder. Simon flinched at the touch but didn't pull away. "I just..." He glanced away, then back. "I need to understand, man. What was that? What were they doing?"
Simon shook his head, a violent, jerky motion. "I can't. I can't talk about it."
"Please." Jake's fingers tightened on Simon's shoulder. "I've never seen anything like that. I've never...felt anything like that. The way they chanted, the way you—" He stopped, his throat dry. "The way you...you know." Jake's voice fell to a hushed whisper. "The way you came. Like it was an answer to a prayer or something."
Simon's face flushed. He looked away, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "It...was. It is. A prayer to the old gods. The ones before."
"Before what?"
"Before everything. Before the church, before Christ, before all the lies. Before bullshit like bring all the little children unto me. Yeah, right." Simon's voice was raw and aching. "Father Dan says they're the true powers. The ones that were buried under layers of piety and denial. The ones who...who really know who we are, and...and what we want. And what *they* want."
"What do they want?"
Simon met his eyes. "Pleasure. Pain. And devotion."
Jake felt a pulse of heat between his legs, his cock stirring in his jeans. He tried to ignore it, but the memory of last night was too vivid. He saw Simon's body arching, slamming rigid up on his toes, his cum spurting in glistening white ropes and splattering the altar. That look of ecstatic agony on his face--
Jake shook his head, feeling dizzy. "And what do they give in return?"
Simon held his gaze for a moment, searching, probably trying to discern whether this was all just a set up of some sort. He must have seen what he hoped to see in Jakes eyes, because he finally said, "Everything."
Jake took a shuddering breath. "I want to know more," he said, the words tumbling out before he'd even really meant to say them.
Simon kept staring. "Why?"
"Because... Because I'm *lost*, Simon." Jake's voice cracked and now tears sprang from his eyes. "I...I came out. To my family. And they threw me out. Now I have nothing. No one. And what I saw last night...it was horrible. It was disgusting. But it was also..." He searched for the word. "Powerful."
Simon was quiet for a long time. Then he reached out, his fingers reaching towards Jake's injured face, but stopping short. He lowered his hand. "Is that what happened to you? When you told them?"
Jake nodded, but said nothing. His throat was clamped down to a hard nub and he couldn't speak.
"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry. So sorry that happened to you."
Jake nodded, took a shaky breath, then blew it out in a huff. "Yeah. Anyway, when I saw what happened in the church, to you..." He took another shivery breath. "I don't know. It was powerful, yeah. So powerful, so..."
Simon shifted, his own breath hitching. Jake actually saw the crotch of his grubby, threadbare jeans tenting outward. He half-smiled and nodded at the growing bulge. "Yeah, I guess it was pretty powerful for you too, huh?"
Simon looked down, then groaned. "Shit. Shit shit--"
"No, no, it's okay!" Jake said, smiling a fleeting smile. "I've...you know, just never seen another guy get hard before. It's...fuck. It's fucking hot." He gave another smile, a sheepish one, and a shrug. "Hey, I told you I was gay."
Simon narrowed his eyes, again searching Jake's battered face for any hint this was all just put-on, just a set up for some cruel joke. Again, Jake just let him. Simon's face finally softened. "Yeah, well, it was...amazing," he breathed. "The best nut I've ever had." He sniffed. "Maybe the best nut anyone's ever had."
"Yeah. It looked like it," Jake said, his own cock tingling and swelling in his pants. He sniffed a laugh. "And, yeah, there we go. I'm getting hard, too."
"Really?"
Jake nodded and looked pointedly down at his own bulging crotch. Simon stared for a moment, then said, "Wow."
Jake offered another tired smile. "Again...gay, remember? Like I'm guessing you are...?"
Simon looked down for a moment, then back up. The hard wariness was gone. Jake could see the vulnerability in the other boy's eyes. If he really wanted to hurt him, this was the time. But he didn't want to hurt him. Not at all.
"Yeah, I guess I am," Simon finally said, then blinked and shook his head. "Man, I can't believe I said it. I've never said it to anyone before."
Jake had taken his hand off Simon's shoulder and just rested it on his own knee. Simon looked at him, then reached out, hesitated, and touched it with his own hand. A tentative touch. A fragile connection.
"You need to talk to Father Dan," Simon said softly. "He'll explain everything. Better than I can."
"But what do I say? 'Hey, Father, I watched you perform some sort of weird magical orgy last night, tell me more'?"
Simon almost smiled at that. "Just go to confession. Talk to him. He'll know what to do."
Jake stared back at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that." He stood. "And maybe I'll, you know, find you later. If it's okay."
Simon peered up at him and again almost smiled. "Sure it's okay. I'd...like that."
*****
The church looked different in the daylight. Smaller. More ordinary. The stained-glass windows glowed with muted colors, and the heavy oak door stood open, welcoming the faithful. Jake hesitated on the steps, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his stomach churning.
He took a deep breath, then went inside. The nave was empty, the morning mass long over. The air smelled of wax and dust and something faintly metallic. Like copper, maybe, or old blood. Jake walked down the center aisle, his sneakers squeaking on the stone, until he reached the confessional box tucked into the corner near the altar. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the curtain. Then he pushed it aside and stepped inside.
The confessional was small, dark, stifling. He knelt on the padded kneeler, his knees pressing into the worn velvet, and waited. Through the grille, he could see the vague shape of the priest on the other side, a shadow among shadows.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Jake began, his voice barely a whisper. "It has been..." He paused, licked his dry lips. "It has been...a while since my last confession."
A rustle of fabric on the other side of the screen. Then Father Dan's voice, calm and warm, the same voice that had chanted blasphemies in the dark. "Tell me your sins, my son."
Jake's heart pounded. "I... I saw something. Last night. I was here. In the church. I was hiding, and I saw..."
"Yes?"
"I saw you. And the others. And Simon." The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. "I saw everything. The chalice. The wafer. The—" He couldn't bring himself to say it.
Silence. Thick, heavy, and suffocating. Jake found himself holding his breath. Found himself ready to turn and flee.
Then Father Dan spoke, his voice low and measured. "What do you intend to do, Jake?"
"I don't know." Jake's voice cracked. "I'm confused. I'm...scared. I should be grossed out. And I am. A little. I think. But I can't stop thinking about it. About Simon. About the way he looked. The way he sounded."
Another pause. When Father Dan spoke again, there was a new edge to his voice. Not harsh, but probing. Searching. "So why are you here?"
"I'm not even sure," he whispered back.
"Was it because you saw something beautiful? Something that called to you?"
"I don't know," Jake hissed.
"Would you like to learn more about it?"
Jake's breath caught. "What?"
"What you saw last night was not evil, Jake. It was truth. It was the uncovering of a truth that has been hidden for two thousand years, buried under the lies of a weak, pathetic God who demanded submission and poverty and shame." Father Dan's voice remained muted, but it also grew stronger, more resonant, filling the small confessional. "The old gods do not demand shame. They demand ecstasy. They demand the fullness of human experience. Pleasure and pain, light and dark, the sacred and the profane."
Jake's hands were shaking. His cock had swollen as Father Dan spoke, and now pressed into his jeans, almost painfully hard. "I...I don't understand."
"You don't have to understand. Not yet. All you have to do is open yourself to the possibility." Father Dan's voice softened. "Come back tomorrow night. The same time. Come back, and we will show you more."
The priest fell silent. Jake knelt there, his mind racing, his body on fire. He should say no. He should run. He should call the police. This was all wrong, all so wrong...
What he did say, though, was, "I'll think about it," then hurried out of the confessional, out of the church. He stopped on the front steps, panting as though he'd just run the hundred meters. His breathing finally slowed and Jake started walking. His steps were fast, like he was rushing to get away from something.
Or closer to it. He wasn't sure which.
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