Adam's Grace - 2. The Space We Used To Breathe

Father Daniel's car raced through the dark road, his eyes locked on the windshield, hands trembling, desperately trying to keep the steering wheel steady as the landscape rushed violently past them.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?!" Thomas cried out from the back seat, holding Adam's head on his lap as the boy choked and shivered violently.

The priest's eyes peeked at the rearview mirror, locking on Thomas. They were still glistening with disbelief. Just a few minutes ago, the pastor had witnessed the young man die on that river bank, only to be brought back to life by a miracle born from Adam's desperate act of prayer. But as Thomas rose from his death, Adam succumbed to a mysterious sudden state of illness that seemed to slowly be sucking the life out of him.

"We need to get him to the church." Father Daniel mumbled. "He'll..." He stumbled. "He'll know what to do." He whispered to himself as his eyes closed in prayer.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Thomas fired, his eyes darting from one side of the road to the other as he tried to cage his despair.

A few minutes later, the jeep was rushing past the bridge, the wheels sliding across the dirt driveway leading up the steps to the church. Thomas immediately bounced off the car and pulled Adam's body from it, holding him in his arms and carrying him up the steps, with Father Daniel following closely behind. The priest opened the large, old, thick, dark wooden door, glimpsing around the main square. It was pitched dark, and the town seemed dipped into a plunging, inviting slumber.

He closed the door and locked it, the sound of the large copper key turning inside the old lock echoing inside the chapel.

"Take him inside. There's a room in the back." Father Daniel whispered.

Thomas rushed inside, knocking the small door behind the pulpit open with his shoulder and sprinting along the narrowest corridor into a room in the back. It was small, dark, yet exceptionally cozy. A small window hanging high to the right of the entrance from where a street lamp guided a somber yellow light inside. Tucked to the left was a small bed with a wooden bedside cabinet light on top of it.

Thomas laid Adam over the soft mattress so gently that the boy's body seemed to levitate. The stud kneeled beside the bed, his big hand brushing Adam's raven curls away from his face, exposing his porcelain skin, now covered in sweat. His usually plump red lips were pale as snow, pursing and shivering.

"We need to get his clothes off. They're soaking wet." Father Daniel directed, rushing over to Thomas, who immediately stepped to the side, his hands pulling Adam's sheer blouse up, carefully lifting his head as he pulled it over it. Under, the boy's beautiful, smooth, velvety skin prickled feverishly, his pink nipples peeking from under the sweat. Suddenly, Father Daniel paused, looking at Adam's pants, before pulling back. "Maybe you should..." He stuttered.

Thomas sighed, seemingly annoyed by Father Daniel's sudden prudish behavior. He slid down the bed and unbuckled Adam's belt, pulling his friend's pants down, struggling as the soaked fabric barred to his smooth skin. As he slowly peeled them away from Adam's skin, a profoundly alluring marigold-scented wave washed over the room, and Thomas' eyes welled up with tears. He lunged forward and plunged his head on Adam's bare chest, the stud's golden eyes staring up at his friend.

"Angel eyes...look at me." He pleaded, whispering gently. His breath brushed Adam's soft skin, crawling up his torso and into his mouth. "For fuck sake, don't you dare die on me, goddammit..." He added, fluttering softly.

Seconds later, the most lovely, soft, and tender voice filled the room.

"Thomas...language." Adam mumbled as his eyes unfurled unhurriedly.

"Oh shit, thank God!" Thomas hollered in relief, his head raising with such haste his body fell back, landing on the floor.

"God be praised..." Father Daniel uttered, leaning back on the small room's doorway and stroking his forehead in solace.

"What happened...?" Adam questioned, rolling to the side, his body still shivering and sweating.

"Well..." Thomas uttered before being cut off by Father Daniel's voice.

"Maybe we should...let Adam rest, yes?" He suggested. Thomas looked back, a jovial, almost childlike, exhilarated anxiety. But as the priest's head nodded discreetly at him, the stud realized that there was more to Father Daniel's request than he was letting on.

"Sure..." Thomas reluctantly agreed.

"Meet me at the vestry." The priest suggested, turning around slowly and exiting the small room.

Thomas' eyes lingered on him, waiting as he turned the corner before lunging back over Adam's body, smiling from ear to ear.

"I'm cold." Adam's quivering voice mumbled.

Thomas grabbed the large blanket on the foot of the bed and pulled it over Adam's body, his hands rubbing the boy's skin over it, from his feet to his back. He leaned in as he reached Adam's neck, breathing into it and coating it with his warmth.

"Better?" He asked softly, his lips lingering inches from Adam's skin. From under him, he felt his friend's head bobbing. "I dreamt..." He suddenly stuttered, pulling away enough to finally see Adam's blue gaze looking back at him. "I was lost in some dark place." Thomas whispered, afraid that his words would slip through the cracks of that small room. "But then...I heard your voice." He continued. "You were calling me." The stud revealed. His eyes lingered on his friend, seemingly waiting for a warranty.

But none came. Adam just lay there, his eyes diving inside Thomas'. There was a profoundness to them. A temperate acknowledgment of an unspoken truth between the two.

"I should go see what Father Daniel wants." Thomas sounded, pausing slightly before pushing himself up and walking to the door.

"Thomas?" Adam called.

"Yeah?" Thomas replied, immediately turning. As he did, he stumbled, his body wavering slightly. From inside Adam's eyes, a strange light emanated. One of such beauty and grace, Thomas felt compelled to rush towards it. But just as it emerged, it quickly waned.

"I..." Adam muttered, struggling to breathe.

"Rest, angel eyes." Thomas advised.

His eyebrows lifted with surprise at his own words. There was so much he wanted to say. The thought of parting away from Adam, even for a second, physically ached him. They had always shared a deep connection. But whatever happened to them earlier that night had changed something. And now a link tied them, their souls and spirits. And it was more profound than words, more potent than will, and more divine than faith.

Thomas smiled and closed the door, walking down the corridor and over the chapel stage, finally reaching Father Daniel's vestry. He tapped on the door gently.

"Come in, Thomas." The pastor invited. The stud pushed the door open to find Father Daniel sitting on a chair behind an old wooden desk, one hand over the table, holding a large glass of whisky. Thomas squinted at it, slightly judgemental. "You're right, my lad. But..." Father Daniel uttered, pausing briefly. "I think this night demands a little liquid panacea." He said, chuckling to himself.

"Pana...what?" Thomas tried to recite, visibly confused. The priest glanced up at him and smiled.

"Nevermind. Sit down." He invited, chugging the glass and slowly lifting his eyes from the table to look at the boy, who, one hour ago, was dead in Adam's arms. "How are you feeling?" He asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Fine." Thomas replied, awkwardly wandering around the room. He seemed reluctant to sit down and face Father Daniel's inquisitive stare. "Weird night, hum?" The stud muttered.

"Do you...remember what happened?" The priest questioned.

"Not really." Thomas answered, suddenly taken aback. He had yet to acknowledge that he remembered very little from the night's events. "I think I was knocked out." He said, turning to Father Daniel, who gazed at him intensely.

"That's one way to put it." The priest whispered as he stretched his arm to the side, clutching the half-full whisky bottle and refilling his glass. "I think...we shouldn't mention this to anyone yet, Thomas. Not for now, at least." He suggested, slowly taking the glass to his mouth.

"Fair enough, Father." Thomas conceded, walking over to the large, tall window that faced a beautiful indoor garden, with a small orchard Father Daniel tended to in his spare time. "But lying is a sin..." Thomas said, his golden eyes piercing the glass. "Isn't it?" He questioned, finally turning to face the pastor, whose body fell back on the chair, a soft chuckle fleeing his lips.

"Not if the lie serves a purpose. For example, someone who...might need protection." Father Daniel reasoned, battling the conflicting truth of his own statement. There was a brief silence, during which Thomas didn't move, not even to breathe. Then, he slowly turned and faced the priest's gaze.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Father. But Adam doesn't need your protection." The stud stated, walking over to the desk, his shielding nature taking hold of his entire body. "He has me." He asserted.

"Thomas, I didn't mean..." Father Daniel replied before a sounding knock on the chapel door echoed inside the church. The priest's eyes squinted at the stud before he shot from the chair and rushed out of the room, his light feet sprinting across the aisle. He reached the massive door and peeked through the small portico.

"Sorry to wake you, Father." A visibly anxious voice whispered from the other side of the door.

"Catherine..." Father Daniel stuttered.

"Have you seen Thomas? He missed curfew..." Catherine questioned, her pleading voice concealing a mother's despair.

"He's..." The priest stumbled.

"I'm here." Thomas bellowed from the other end of the chapel, his voice inadvertently echoing with enough power to reach the jeep parked at the base of the church chairs, where his father, Joseph, waited.

Catherine glanced back nervously as her husband punched the jeep door open and rushed up the steps, scowling angrily.

"Open the door, Father!" Joseph hollered.

"Please, calm down. You'll wake someone..." Catherine warned, carefully scanning the central square, which was still bathed in a delicate respite.

Father Daniel pulled the door open, the wood screeching as he did. Thomas was already walking along the aisle when his father forced his way in, ignoring the priest's presence.

"Where have you been?" Joseph groaned, trying his best to keep his raging lungs from screaming. "Do you have any idea how worried your mother was?" He questioned.

Thomas glanced over his father's shoulder, locking eyes with his mother.

"We just lost track of time. Father Daniel was kind enough to give us a lift back into town." Thomas nervously explained. His demeanor seemed to change around Joseph.

"Us...?" Joseph questioned, raising his eyebrows before his eyes gaped over to the back, near the pulpit. Soon, everyone else followed suit. Adam stood there, hunching, the thick blanket covering his upper body as he leaned against the large wood structure with a gigantic cross hanging above him. "I knew it." Joseph snorted.

"Thomas, come." Catherine whispered, extending her gentle hand.

"Fuck, no." The stud reacted, pulling his arm away from her. But as he did, Joseph's body rushed sideways, his finger raised inches from his son's face.

"Get inside the fucking car, you little shit. That's an order." Joseph demanded.

"Joseph, please. This is the house of God." Father Daniel interjected, attempting to ease the tension.

"I appreciate the warning, Father. But this is a family matter, so I'd appreciate you stay out of it." Joseph rudely replied, his voice charged yet contained. His eyes were still locked on Adam. "Your father was right... you're cursed, boy." He stated.

"Joseph..." Catherine muttered, ashamed of her husband's cruel words. She glanced at Adam, pleading for the boy's forgiveness.

"His father is a drunk. Like you." Thomas suddenly whispered. As soon as the words fled his mouth, he felt the indisputable weight of his father's hand as it struck his chiseled jaw, knocking him to the floor. Joseph clutched the stud's luscious hair and dragged him over the floor.

"I won't have you prance around town with that fucking deviant again. Do you understand me?" Joseph hollered. "You ungrateful sack of shit!" He yelled, pushing Thomas down the church steps and kicking his body into the car. Catherine followed behind, silent tears rushing down her face.

Adam stumbled across the church aisle, his blue eyes shivering with angst until he finally reached the massive doorway. He took a few steps outside and crouched near the top of the stairs, letting his cold peach fall over it. Joseph pushed Thomas into the car and slapped the door on him. Inside, the stud turned his face, his and Adam's eyes finally locking. And as they did, Adam's tears slowly rolled down his cheeks. Further down the dirt road, on the other side of the bridge, and as the first rays of morning light descended on Dog's Creek, you could already see curious shadows peeking from within the house windows, desperate to feed off the boy's pain.

Thomas' anguished eyes lingered on Adam as the car drove off, lifting a cloud of dirt with it. Adam's head fell on his lap as the vehicle disappeared over the bridge. A few moments later, he felt a presence beside him and a vigorous and steady hand land on his back.

"Adam..." Father Daniel whispered, his voice conveying the most disarming gentleness. But as he did, he felt Adam's body pulled away.

"I should go home, Father." The boy muttered, his tone feeble and distraught. He stumbled down the steps, his bare feet brushing the cold stone. Halfway through, he stopped and looked back. As he did, the most glorious light pierced through the thin clouds and struck his face, momentarily enhancing the beauty of his cobalt-blue gaze. With it came the most spellbinding smile as the boy glared at the priest.

That was the moment Father Daniel knew, with the most profound certitude, that his faith had been rekindled. For the most beautiful angel stood before him.

Adam descended the stairs and crossed the bridge just as the sun began to rise in the distance. He stumbled barefoot across the dirt road, moving ever so slowly away from the town's center and into his home, the furthest house, past the pond and about a mile from Dog's Creek welcoming sign. He could feel his heart succumb to a tempered sadness as he approached the small porch of his family's old, dilapidated wooden cabin. He could hear his father moving inside, pacing around the kitchen. So, as he had done countless times before, he went around the back and climbed through the water pipe, sliding under the window to his room, which he left unlocked by placing a small peddle under it. Instead of going inside, though, Adam felt compelled to linger and ended up sitting on top of the roof, watching the sunrise, his smooth body healing under Father Daniel's blanket. The sun grazed his skin, and it began to drill into him like a gentle, soothing whisper. His lips stretched, and his whole being beamed with a melancholic joy.

And as his eyes slowly unfurled, Adam's tears finally evaded. And along with them came a surge of shattering fear.

You see, dear reader, while everyone rose from their bed, ready to carry on with their daily lives, blissfully unaware of the dark yet miraculous events that had just unfolded on that river margin, Adam's heart was secretly beginning to fracture in two. One side rejoiced on Thomas' return to life, brought on by whatever power had been vested upon him. But a dark, insidious truth slowly reared his head, one only Adam seemed aware of. And one so horrible, of such unfathomable cruelty, that his angelic and pure heart seemed unable to endure.

The sound of his father's worn-out boots dragging across the dirt pulled him out of his contemplative state, and his blue eyes veered down, watching as the man sauntered to the pickup truck stationed just in front of their porch with a tired and defeated step. He went around the car, but as he was about to hop inside, he stopped, glancing up at the roof as he finally noticed the boy. Adam's right hand lifted from under the blanket, waving at his father, a soft smile pushing through.

And for a brief moment, he could swear he saw his father pull back, his mouth slightly open as if he was about to say something. But he didn't. His eyes detached, and he slid inside the truck, driving off.

Adam followed the car as it veered into the main road and disappeared under the trees in the distance before his arms finally crossed over his knees, and he let his chin rest on them. His eyes lingered on the vast field of sunflowers before him, its beauty gradually nurturing his hopeful spirit.

(Later that evening)

Adam didn't leave the house the entire day, bathing on the roof and resting his somewhat weary body. It must have been around 2 am, as he was about to fall asleep when he heard his window slide open. Thomas' head popped from under it, his ridiculously towering and beefy body trying to squeeze through it. Adam shot from the bed, leaning back as he sat on it.

"Thomas, you can't be here." Adam warned, his words satiny and eerily inviting. Inside, his heart secretly beamed with joy.

"Hey, show a little gratitude. Do you have any idea what stunts I had to pull to get here?" Thomas replied, rolling his muscular body down the window and into the floor, causing the old wood to crack loudly.

"If my Dad catches you here, he'll tell your Dad." Adam warned, jumping off the bed and rushing for the door. He nestled his ear into it, lingering there for a while before slowly turning the key on the lock. When he turned back, Thomas stood near his bed, looking at him. And he was even more stunning than ever. He wore tight shorts, some old sneakers, and nothing else. Adam couldn't help but let his hands fall over his crotch discreetly, feeling his shyness creep inside unannounced.

A strange, familiar nostalgia took over him. There they were, where they had been so many times before. Almost every night, when they were children and through their adolescence, whenever Adam would sleep in his house, Thomas would sneak out of his, sprint in the dark through the one-hectare sunflower field that separated their homes, and climb up Adam's window, dozing on the extra mattress Adam would place next to his bed every night, on the most often than not chance that the stud would show up. And they would chat and laugh until the sun rose, telling jokes and dreaming of a future where they would always be in each other's life. And although this particular night seemed to emulate those happy times, Adam knew, deep in his heart, that reality was becoming far different from what they had imagined.

"I just wanted to see you." Thomas uttered, his words utterly disarming. Adam smiled, its luminescence bringing with it the innocence of their childhood memories.

"Toss me my shirt." Adam requested.

"Why?" The hunk questioned, smirking at Adam's awkwardness, swaying his body from side to side as he covered the front of his undies. His pale, smooth, fit body bathed in the bluest moonlight. "I've seen you naked." The stud argued.

"Fine." Adam uttered, walking back to his bed and sitting down, his fingers nervously climbing up his legs and landing on his knees, where they lingered until his eyes finally lifted. Thomas' chiseled stomach was inches from his face, moving slowly as the stud breathed, every muscle flexing with absolute precision. Adam took a deep breath, and as he did, Thomas kneeled before him, their eyes meeting.

"It's weird." Thomas conveyed.

"What?" Adam questioned as he dove inside his friend's eyes, a golden pool of zeal and security.

"Since last night...I've been having these strange feelings." Thomas struggled to explain. "It's like I can sense what you're feeling." The stud whispered.

"What do you mean?" Adam asked.

"Here." The stud said, grabbing Adam's hand and pulling it into his massive chest, gently placing it over his heart. Adam felt a wave of euphoria run through his entire body, sensing the hairs on Thomas' chest brush against his palm and the stud's nipple graze its soft skin.

"Thomas..." Adam stuttered, attempting to pull away.

"Be quiet." The hunk interrupted, forcing the boy's hand against his heart. "Listen." He requested.

And then it happened. Within seconds, Adam felt his own heart pumping inside Thomas' chest. And with each gentle beat, faint whispers would echo inside his ears. A soft, melodic song of longing.

"You see?" Thomas said. "You were calling me." He stated.

"Thomas.." Adam mumbled, his words stumbling. But by then, the stud was already leaning forward, his nose diving inside the boy's neck.

"Fuck...your skin. I could smell it across the field." Thomas groaned, his breath ushering Adam's skin to prickle. The hunk's moist lips hovered inches from his friend's skin. His hands were now climbing up Adam's legs, fingers brushing softly against them.

"What are you doing?" Adam asked, his voice and breath weakening.

"I... don't know." Thomas replied. He sounded conflicted, yet his body moved with unwavering certainty. His hands skated over and slid under Adam's thighs, grabbing his ass cheeks and gently pulling his pale, smooth across the bedsheets. He pulled away and glanced down, his fingers holding Adam's undies before slowly pulling them off. He felt the boy's legs shiver nervously as he yanked the underwear from under his feet, tossing it to the side. Adam's long, pink, uncut cock was now hanging between them, a string of crystal liquid slumping from the tip, oozing out of his foreskin.

Adam's head was still dunked, his chest moving up and down. But soon, Thomas felt the boy's slim fingers sliding inside his waistband. Adam pushed it down, feeling the flawless curvature of the stud's muscular ass brush his hands as he did, making his cock twitch and leap upwards. And it was soon apparent Thomas' cock was rock hard as well, given that Adam was finding it difficult to pull the shorts further down. So he brought his hands to the front, sliding his fingers along the waistband, all the way around, until they touched something moist and hard. Adam's eyes flared. He pulled the shorts away from the hunk's waist and pushed them down, finally unleashing Thomas' monstrous, 9-inch thick, veiny, throbbing shaft. As the boy glanced down, his mouth gaped in shock. It was the most massive cock he had ever seen, and that's not to say he had seen a lot. But it was undoubtedly huge and seemed to have a heartbeat of its own.

Thomas, being more experienced, assisted Adam. He forced his shorts down to his knees, slid them under, and pulled them off. He tossed them to the side, eyes locked on Adam the entire time, and nudged himself closer to the edge of the bed, allowing their dicks to touch. As they did, a soft, unwilling moan fled Adam's mouth, his basil-scented breath brushing against the hunk's nose.

"Thomas..." Adam moaned, his legs scissoring the stud's waist and locking behind it, his feet resting at the base of Thomas' muscular back, just inches above his ass crack.

"Adam..." The stud groaned, their noses brushing together, mouths closer than they had ever been. Adam's arms slid under Thomas' armpits, clutching the stud's torso and pulling himself into him. "Let me..." Thomas pleaded, every breath coated with the most profound respect and admiration. But also with the deepest desire. And it was only when Adam's nose brushed against his, the boy's face nodding slowly, that the stud finally lunged his mouth forward, engulfing Adam's lips with his own.

A sudden burst of energy punched through their chests as they dove inside each other's mouths, allowing their imperceptible link to finally reveal itself. A thin layer of white light grew within their chests, expanding gradually. But neither seemed to acknowledge it. Their souls completely surrendered to what their mouths now shared.

As Thomas' lips danced around Adam's, the boy beamed from inside the stud's mouth, thankful for what could only be described as the most glorious moment of his life. The person he loved the most in the world was finally there, willing to surrender to the unspoken desire brewing silently for years between them. A desire seasoned with the deepest affection and the most genuine friendship.

Thomas' hips started grinding their dicks together, his bulky arms crossing behind Adam's back. His tongue cruised inside the pale beauty's mouth, sipping every drop of his pleasurable froth as if it were holy water. The feeling was so overwhelming that Adam's body fell back, the stud's arms holding his weight as they tumbled together, landing softly on the bed. Thomas crawled up, squeezing himself swiftly between Adam's legs, which seemed bound to his waist like second skin. Soon they were lying down, with Thomas drilling his pelvis into Adam's crotch, forcing their dicks to rub against each other, their juices merging along with their tongues. Adam's hands crawled up the stud's back, clutching his broad neck as he savored the hunk's flavor.

Thomas' kisses tasted like dried figs, and his body felt like a wood fire burning on top of Adam's body.

The boy felt ripples of the most unbearable pleasure run through his body, and soon, he was whining with lust. He could feel Thomas' veiny cock throbbing against his, sending tiny shockwaves into his inner thighs. And it wasn't long before the stud pulled away from his mouth.

"Oh...fuck..." Thomas uttered, a surprised style in his words.

A warm liquid began the fire between Adam's legs, and a wave of euphoria rushed from his groin into his chest. Thomas' face shriveled as he tried to keep his eyes open, his hips discharging minor spasms as he blew his load into Adam's stomach. In turn, Adam felt his orgasm build, and within seconds, his own cum shot up, blasting ferociously between their abdomens. The boy leaned forward, his face touching Thomas' chest as the stud gently held Adam's neck with his hand.

"Oh my God." Adam mumbled, completely lost for words, his hands desperately grasping Adam's lower back.

"Shit...what the fuck!" Thomas replied, flustered.

"Thomas...language." Adam mumbled from under him, forcing the stud to break out laughing. The hunk fell over Adam, their bodies melting as their cum slowly fused with their skin.

Seconds later, Thomas' head rose, and he pulled back slowly, kneeling with his hands on his knees as he stared at Adam in awe. It stood there, seemingly endlessly, their vulnerability utterly exposed. It was the most deep-seated, intimate moment of their lives.

"You're so fucking beautiful." The stud proclaimed, forcing Adam's timid nature to surface. He pulled his hands over his face. But Thomas countered and leaned forward, pulling them away. "Don't be weirded out. I wanted to." He stated. Adam's eyes blinked, a gentle spark igniting inside them. "I still want to..." The stud added. "I usually last longer, you know?" He said, chuckling at the sight of Adam's tamed smirk. "Next time..." He teased, brushing his hand along Adam's smooth leg.

As he reached the boy's stomach, he paused, glancing at the pool of cum covering it. He skimmed his fingers over it, taking a small amount with them. Then he looked at Adam and smiled before taking the juice to his mouth.

"What...?" Adam blurted out. But by then, Thomas was already sucking greedily on his cum covered fingers, his eyebrows frowning as he sampled the uncharted flavor. He finally pulled his fingers out, his lips hugging them, and they slid out.

"Not a bad mix, you and me." The stud playfully teased. But to his surprise, Adam just lay there staring at him with a severe countenance. Then, the boy pulled up, his eyes locked on Thomas' before they veered down into the stud's stomach. "What are you doing?" The stud questioned.

But Adam's hand was already diving down, clutching Thomas' still hard cock and assembling all its cum into his palm. Without ever taking his eyes off the hunk, Adam took his hand to his mouth and swallowed the small puddle, leaning into Thomas and kissing him. They lingered there, their lips glazed with both their loads as they shared a passionate kiss. All the while, Thomas' hand skated down Adam's back, his sweaty fingers discreetly sliding inside the boy's virgin crack, with his dick still throbbing uncontrollably between his legs. But Adam's hand suddenly grabbed the hunk's, pulling it away.

"Fine, fine. Fucking teasing me like this." The stud chuckled, completely inebriated by Adam's enchanting presence. "Can I stay?" He asked.

"No. Go home, Thomas." Adam advised, suddenly aware of the conceivable dangers of their reckless reunion. The stud pulled back, stepping out of bed and grabbing Adam's bath towel to clean himself.

"So...are you going to tell me what happened last night?" The stud asked. Adam could see the stud's golden eyes scanning his lips discreetly. "Because... I'm having trouble remembering..." He admitted, following Adam's blue gaze as it tried to avoid him.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Adam whispered, blinking softly. Thomas squinted, noticing how Adam's complexion had suddenly changed, turning ill-looking.

"Are you getting sick again?" Thomas questioned. But Adam didn't answer. He just let his head fall between his shoulders. From under it, these murky coughs began to erupt. "Adam...talk to me." The stud begged.

"I just...need to lay down a bit." Adam noted, turning his face to the wall and slowly sliding down on the bed, his back shivering in the dark.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep, then." Thomas stated, pulling his shorts back on, resting his back against the wall, and falling into a corner. He stayed there, his golden eyes scrutinizing Adam's every move, sound, and breath. Until the blue-eyed angel's tired body finally succumbed to a mysterious slumber.

(The following day)

It was the hottest day of that year, and everyone in Dog's Creek attended Sunday mass. Father Daniel's voice echoed inside the church as he delivered a particularly poignant homily.

"Returning from the region of Tyre, Jesus went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a man who was deaf and who had an impediment in his speech. And they begged him to lay his hands on him. Jesus took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue." Father Daniel recounted to a packed church, his hands together and fingers crossed. "Then he looked up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, "Ephphatha," that is, "be opened." And immediately, the man's ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one. But the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. They were astounded beyond measure, saying, He has done everything well. He even makes the deaf hear and the mute to speak." He continued. "In the first reading (Isaiah 35:4-7), the prophet tells the people to be strong and not to fear, and that God will come and heal the blind and the deaf, and the tongue of the speechless will sing for joy." He explained before his voice suddenly slipped. "I..." Father Daniel stuttered, ushering a few raised eyebrows from the people in the first rows.

"Father Daniel, are you alright?" A young woman asked, raising slightly from her chair. The priest glanced at her, then at the room full of inquisitive eyes, and chuckled nervously.

"We are thought to believe in God's miracles. But..." He stumbled again. "Nobody teaches us what to do when we actually witness one." He mumbled as the entire first row slanted forward, endeavoring to hear his words. "I don't..." The priest lingered, his voice wandering off again.

"Father?" The woman insisted. Father Daniel lifted his eyes and smiled.

"Enjoy your Sunday. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen." He stated, drawing a blessing gesture with his hand.

"Amen!" The congregation chanted before standing up and exiting the door, fleeing the intense heat felt inside.

Gradually, the church emptied, and the chattering racket became distant, finally submerging the chapel in a peaceful silence. Father Daniel entered the confessional and sat down, a deep breath fleeing his lungs. He closed his eyes, relishing the moment of solitude he had just been afforded. But on the other side of the grid, he could hear the faint steps of someone approaching.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." A gentle yet frail voice confessed.

"Adam..." Father Daniel whispered back, his hand sliding the small grid sideways. The priest's eyes gaped in shock at the sight of Adam's ailed body, the extreme paleness of his complexion, the dark circles surrounding his eyes, and the profound sadness that spewed from inside his once glowing spirit. "What's wrong?" The priest questioned.

"I think... he's making me sick." The boy mumbled, eyes strenuously blinking.

"Who?" Father Daniel asked, his jaw slightly lowered.

"Thomas, Father." Adam said, his hands gripping the small window that separated them. "Ever since that night... every time he comes near me, I start getting sick." Adam explained, his now cloudy blue eyes completely pilfered of their former vibrancy. "I think I'm being punished. For what I did." The boy whimpered, finally letting his forehead fall forward, sobbing uncontrollably. Father Daniel's hand came over his head, landing gently on the boy's raven hair.

"Adam..." The priest whispered, his overwhelming compassion for the young man crushing his spirit. But as he leaned forward, ready to embrace the boy, his eyes glanced down. The back of Adam's sheer white shirt was slightly ripped, and he could see two large lacerations growing along the outer layer of the boy's shoulder blades, trickling with blood. And from under it, the most luminous, godliest light the priest's eyes had ever experienced. Desperately pushing its way out. "Dear God..." Father Daniel whimpered.

Now...I know what you must be thinking, dear reader: how could two young souls, as pure, deserve such a punishment? How could this life-saving miracle bestowed by God come at such a high cost?

Yet I encourage you, as I did before, to push through and continue to challenge your mind. As it seems commonplace nowadays, one shouldn't so quickly lose faith. Even though it might seem easy to fall prey to despair, given the darkness that constantly surrounds us.

By Adam's grace, hope is measured by the strength of one's spirit. And every man's is limitless and boundless if they only allow their hearts to remain open.

Remember, this tale is one of hope. Of faith. And above all, love.

But let's face it... no love story worth telling was ever blessed with an easy journey, now was it?

(To be continued...)