๐ฌ๐๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ง ๐ฐ๐ก๐จ ๐๐ฐ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง๐ฌ๐ข๐๐ ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐๐ฒ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ ๐๐ง ๐ฎ๐ง๐ข๐ง๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐๐ ๐ ๐ฎ๐๐ฌ๐ญ.
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will listened, letting peter lead him in the words first. quietly, he repeated each line after him. there were places where he hesitated, places where old familiarity caught up with him a heartbeat late, but the prayer gradually returned as they spoke it together. by the end, ++
his voice had settled into something steadier, though the words themselves hardly penetrated his heart in any meaningful way.
โโฆamen.โ
silence reclaimed the confessional. will remained where he was, hands folded together, his eyes lingering on the lattice between them. ++
of everything peter could have said, that wasnโt the one heโd been expecting. soft he pulled away, hm?
will lowered his head, but the words didnโt come. heโd heard them a hundred times growing up. recited them by rote. somewhere along the way theyโd stopped being something he ++
remembered and become something he simply assumed heโd remember when he needed them.
heโd been wrong. a quiet, embarrassed breath escaped him. โโฆitโs been a while,โ he admitted. โiโโ his thumb rubbed anxiously against his knuckle. โi donโt remember all of it.โ the confession ++
will was quiet for a moment. his gaze stayed fixed on the lattice between them, though he found himself wondering what expression sat on the other side of it. โas my priest,โ he repeated softly. the phrase settled heavily in the space between them. his fingers tightened ++
will sat very still. for a moment, he wasnโt even sure heโd heard him correctly. he wasnโt expecting those words, that tone. โi didnโt have a plan.โ his voice was quiet, but certain. โthatโs sort of the problem.โ he leaned back against the wood behind him, eyes fixed on the ++
latticework between them. โif iโd planned it, i probably wouldnโt have done it.โ
a humorless breath escaped him. for a moment he considered the question. what should have happened? what answer was there to that?
โi donโt know,โ he admitted, his fingers tightened together. โi ++
will listened in silence. the lattice between them made it easier. not because it hid peter from him, but because it forced him to listen to the words instead of the man saying them. or at least, that was what it was supposed to do.
his hands remained clasped together, head ++
bowed slightly as peter spoke of wants and corruption and the danger of turning another person into an object. the words settled heavily in his chest because he knew they were true. or at least he had always believed they were.
โi donโt think thatโs what happened,โ he mumbled ++
his eyes shut briefly, and a quiet breath escaped him through his nose. for a moment he considered reaching further back. finding something safer. something ordinary. but that wasnโt really how confession worked. and they both knew what he came in here to say โฆ
โlust,โ he ++
will lowered himself onto the kneeler, the old wood creaking softly beneath his weight. the screen between them helped. maybe not enough, but it helped. he crossed himself automatically at the invocation, fingers brushing forehead, chest, shoulder, shoulder.
for a moment he ++
just stared at the latticework separating them. โa while,โ he admitted quietly.
his hands folded together, then unfolded just as quickly. โyears, probably.โ he couldnโt even pretend to remember the last time heโd done this. there had always been reasons not to go. tournaments. ++
will followed a few steps behind, quieter now than he had been all afternoon. his eyes lingered on the confessional as it came into view. he watched peter dip his fingers into the holy water and cross himself. the gesture felt strangely intimate after everything else. his gaze ++
remained where he was. hands in his pockets. shoulders tense. he wasn't nervous about confession. at least, not normally. but this wasn't normal. a few minutes ago he'd kissed the priest. a few minutes before that he'd been sitting in his office drinking tea. and now he was ++