"Hate the sin. Love the sinner."
It was hard to keep a straight face on. Not when Magnus Feichtinger was on the same Sunday Service as me. And it wasn't just a regular person it was the Magnus Feichtinger, Crestside's golden boy — smart, athletic, handsome, perfect. Not when he's sitting one pew behind me. And especially not when I could feel him glaring holes into my back.
Everyone knows that common ground does not exist between me and Magnus Feichtinger. From where I was quiet and reserved, he is loud and rowdy. From where I was a nobody, he is popular and outgoing. From where I was all skin and bones, he is made from muscle and mass. And more importantly, from where I was prim and untouched, he's a serial womanizer. God knows why he's even attending Sunday Service. He's a renowned atheist. Is it an attempt mock my faith? To ridicule my devotion? To get into my nerves?
I couldn't exactly remember when our rivalry started, but I could vividly remember the first time we tried to kill each other. It was during kindergarten days, during Sandbox moments where he made fun of me because I had long hair. Because I was a boy and my religion doesn't permit me to cut my hair off. I remembered getting mad and then pushing him to the ground. The rest is history — I ended up walking with a limp that day. They say Sandbox love never dies, I guess you could say the same for Sandbox fights.
"Our creator created us all equally - with the same image and likeness as him and through his divine love. Brothers and sisters we must always stick to what our Creator has abided by even with those who had wronged us. We can hate the sin, but we must love the sinner."
Magnus and I ... and though we are polar opposites and never see eye to eye, what the preacher has said stayed with me throughout the day.
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"Jennings... " I ran into the last person I wanted to interact with after the service is over. The preacher might have said to love the sinner but he didn't exactly say it was not okay to avoid said sinner.
Sunday services usually leaves me feeling spiritually refreshed, but not today. Especially when Magnus' tone of voice sound surprised as if he didn't have the audacity to make his staring less obvious. And yet I turn to look at him, my devotion getting the best of me, and I plaster in a rigid but respectful smile.
"Feichtinger, what a pleasant surprise."
He leaned against the mahogany posts, straight out of a Cosmopolitan cover and offered me a condescending smirk.
Hate the sin. Love the sinner. I repeat to myself.
"Surprised myself if I would say so...not my thing but I needed to write a paper about cults for my English class so I had to draw inspiration somewhere."
I could feel my eyebrows twitching. Do not stoop down to his level.
"Well I'm glad you're doing in the effort but I'm afraid you're going to fail that paper." I say resisting the urge to give in to my human, angry desires. "This is a religious activity, not a cult gathering so you might need to recalibrate your perspective."
He laughs. "Honestly it looks the same to me. All that's missing is some white robes and some human you'd place on a hut that you'd light on fire."
The preacher said to love the sinner but he didn't say it had to be now. Before I could stop myself, I found myself matching his energy.
"Yeah and how about you be that human Magnus?"
The taller, broader boy smirks — as if unnerving me was also one of his greatest missions of coming here aside from that stupid English essay he had to write for. I did not have to cave in and give him a reaction, but how dare he blatantly disrespect my religion when it did nothing wrong to him.
"Ooh kinky," he chuckled. I watched as he looked around and came closer when he realized it was just the two of us alone. "You know what you are Jennings? You're a prude. And not just a prude, a sensitive prude."
He drew in even closer and all I could do is look at him towering me, digging silent yet anxious glares. I was aware of our proximity and how one more inch I could probably bump my nose into his freshly shaved chin. I was pretty sure that he knew of our proximity as well and liked the reaction he mustered out of me. Despite everything, I held my ground in an effort to preserve my dignity...or so I thought.
"And you know what I do with sensitive prudes? I fuck them."
I looked at him wide eyed and mouth gaping like a fish. He did not need a minute to assess my features before he erupted in a full blown laughter. He blew a puff of breath into my face — minty and spicy — before he flicked my hat and walked away.
Under the comfort of this supposedly Holy space, I am left flustered and crimson-faced while I stare at his retreating back.

YOU ARE READING
The Forbidden Fruit
Teen FictionRATED M FOR SIN AND PLEASURE ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ The temptation of man started with the forbidden fruit. For pure and untouched Eve Jennings, the forbidden fruit came in the form of Magnus Feichtinger. ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ [extended summary inside]