salvation [rafe x barry]

mighty to save

Now suppose this man fathers a son who sees all the sins that his father has done; he sees, and does not do likewise: he shall not die for his father's iniquity; he shall surely live.
Ezekiel 18:14

For a short, short moment after Rafe woke in Barry's arms, there was no gold, no Peterkin nor Sarah; there were no problems.

"You need to get out of here before my dad wakes up", Rafe mumbled, still half asleep but alert enough to know that. Barry didn't argue, crossing Ward was the last thing he planned on, although he hated the guy with all his heart. He shifted out from under the covers.

"I need some shit to wear", Barry said and Rafe was surprised, because he didn't think Barry actually ever did change his clothes, or wash them, anyways.

"Suit yourself", he replied, gesturing towards the side board across the room and studying Barry's body as if it was the last time he'd get to see it.

Barry walked over to his closet and pulled out a polo shirt Rafe hadn't worn in months.
He had liked it quite a lot back when Rose had brought it home with her from a shopping spree but as he had worn it the first time and had strolled down into the kitchen his Dad had been sitting on one of the stools, reading the newspaper. Ward had looked up, over his reading glasses and Rafe had already realized he was in a bad mood by then, and he casually mentioned: „You look like a fag in that shirt"

„Rose bought it for me", Rafe had mumbled in a defensive manner and retreated a cup from the cupboard, his head lowered.

„You're 19 and you can't buy your own clothes?", Ward had said.

„I'll go change, alright?", Rafe had replied, still not looking up and had filled his cup with coffee before he retreated back into his room.

He hadn't touched the shirt since.

„My Dad thinks that shirt looks gay", Rafe commented as Barry pulled it over his head. It was a thight fit on him, accentuating his upper arms and chest. Barry chuckled, checking himself out in the mirror.

"Rafe", he said, turning to look at the boy sprawling in the sheets. "I spent the night in yo bed and I'm wearing yo shirt. Damn right it looks fucking gay, bro"

After Barry left, Rafe did a line and went into the kitchen, quietly passing Rose and Ward to get coffee and thought it must look good, him being up that early, like he got his life together or something, when he obviously didn't.

He took his cup out onto the porch at the second floor and retrieved his phone, his fingers seemlessly tracing over the screen.

Do all murderers go to hell?

Rafe clicked onto a question posted on quora and he read the answer.

If that murderer repents with a genuine heart and turns away from their sins completely and accepts God's gift of salvation. A murderer CAN be forgiven and shown mercy and love. They need to accept Christ as their Lord and Saviour.

Rafe did not feel particularly relieved by this so called gift. First of all, why the fuck would anyone give anything away for free? Then, there was the much bigger problem. The whole genuineness problem.

Rafe could say he was sorry, but he didn't mean it. How could he, how could he be sorry about shooting Peterkin when it had brought him good and only good into his life? When his Dad loved, or at least, valued him now. When he saved the gold. When all of this, had effectively gifted Rafe the goddamn hottest fuck he'd ever had. When he felt like you would when the molly just started to kick in, just by thinking about the fact that he liked Barry, no, he really liked him, and Barry liked him back.