praise and piss

Consolation

The only thing on Judas's mind was that he needed to make sure he avoided Jesus, avoided the disciples, and most importantly, avoided the outside world. With the newfound knowledge that he was about to do something cataclysmically bad, the only way he knew how to counteract this was to become a total shut-off. A hermit.

For the first time since he stepped into the room 30 minutes ago, he raised his head and took in his surroundings. It was a humble little room, with a modest bed, laden with a thin white sheet and a small collection of clay jugs abandoned haphazardly in the corner. It resembled a storage room mixed with a guest room, and the dust particles that danced and dazed throughout the humid air suggested it was somewhat forgotten.

The pacing and brainstorming that was taking place on Judas's behalf rendered him unaware to the disturbance by the door. Timidly, it creaked open and a tall, bronzed figure peeked out.
"Judas." It commanded.
There came that feeling again. It was growing stronger now, considering that just an authority-rich bark could bring it to the surface. Pushing his lust to the side, Judas remembered the promise he had made to himself: stay away from Jesus.
Judas felt that he was somewhat of a talisman of misfortune, and any sort of interaction with anyone was surely to end in some sort of butterfly effect to Jesus's death.

"Please leave," he croaked, voice horse from the 15 minutes of whimpering and sobbing. "I'm sorry, okay? Just please leave. I don't know how to live with myself right now." Judas was well aware how pathetic he sounded. He had stopped his pacing just before Jesus had appeared by the door and was now curled up into a neat little ball on top of the linen sheets. Jesus entered the room.
"I'm not going to leave."
"Why not?"
"You do not mean it. I can sense that. You would never purposefully bring about any means of harm to myself, nor any other fellow. You are a beacon of light in a dark world, but you make bad choices."
"I don't want to make those choices, Jesus. I'm scared." Judas was too preoccupied with avoiding any sort of eye contact to soak in the compliments that had just came his way, and had he been in the right state of mind, he would be swooning, practically drooling like a baby.
"I can help you. Just stay with me. I have already forgave you for any bad choices you made in the past, and this blessing carries on to the future. My death is for the greater good, Judas. I am dying for you, and John, and James, and Matthew, and all my other disciples, and any who choose to follow me, and any other lost soul."

This was not any consolation to Judas, who now had slid further down into the sheets, practically hidden.
Jesus took long, gentle strides across the room, slightly creaking the old wooden floorboards, and loomed over the bed. Over Judas. There was hesitation at first, but after that every movement was certain, decided, like fate had caused them. With one sweep he had pushed the sheets to the floor to reveal the cowering Judas, now looking desperately up at him, as if begging, not for something in particular but definitely begging.
Jesus offered his hand out, and after a few moments where Judas did not accept, forcefully reached out and took the rough, splintered hand of Judas into his own, looking even more intensely now into the teary ocean that were his eyes.
"What can i do to make you feel better?" A soft whisper came from Jesus's soft lips into his companions ear.
"Anything you want," the response finally came.