Beg ✟ h.s. au (M)

t w e l v e

"That's it, babe. Call out to that almighty God you love so much."

Harry's pov

Sunday.

Today was Sunday.

It was the holy day of Christ and the only thing replaying in my mind is Stella's warm, slick mouth sucking me off.

Fuck. Shit- ah I, uhm darn.

How had I been so easily manipulated by something so forbidden to my religion? I've done nothing but beat myself up over how quick I was to completely throw away the strong connection I once had with God. My parents always told me as a child that a strong relationship with Him will only make your life more fulfilling. Your faith will not only make you a better person but will secure your soul a spot in heaven after death.

Whether or not others are only faithful to religion for that sense of reassurance or not, it doesn't matter. Sin is indeed sin.

I look at myself in the mirror, dressed in slacks and a white button-up tucked in at the waist with a black leather belt. My mind then goes back to the memory of Stella's small, delicate fingers taking off my belt. Harshly pushing down my pants to then—no, stop!

I shake my head at myself and overlook myself again as I read over my confession again and again.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was one month ago, and these are my sins. I, father, have sadly fallen under the act of fornication. I have not lost all purity left in me, but I can feel it slipping away. And please do forgive me father as, I do not see myself stopping. Something has awoken inside me and I'm not quite sure I want to put it out yet. It might be my test, my true test of faith, but I feel as though I need to find that on my own.

I have written and rewritten this nearly a good 15 times now and I still feel as ashamed as the first. Not ashamed in myself, but in what my church would think of me. But the real question is—or should be—what do I think of me?

Do I really feel as though I should be apologizing for something that doesn't feel... bad?

"Harold, we haven't got all day! We need to get going if we want good seats!" I hear my mother yell from the bottom of the stairs. I hastily cram the paper into my pant pocket and head down the stairs.

It takes us ten minutes or so to make it to the cathedral where the morning mass was held. Since my parents were a part of the setup and morning handouts we always got here a good 30 minutes early.

There are a few other people there, mainly old people and some administrative workers. I see the priest at the end of the row setting up his podium for today's lecture.

Within the next hour, people slowly begin to fill the church. Some new people finding their way into the church, but mainly the same people I've seen here since I was born. Although we had just recently moved into the area, we had still attended this church. Even though my parents tell me otherwise and say that my father's work headquarters had moved into the same city in which our church was located conveniently enough.

So even though they swear the move was nothing more than work-related, I feel like it had much more to do with our church than they'd like to admit.

My parents as I greeted the couples and individuals we had become accustomed to throughout the years.

There was Mr. and Mrs. Branson, a kind elderly couple, Shaun Edding, an accountant who lived alone as he was on his path to becoming a priest, and Debra and Todd Tennirch, the couple that reminded me of my parents in every way shape and form.

We greeted them all at one point or another as the crowd built into the large cathedral. They all asked the same questions.

How's school? Great.
How's baseball going? Pretty good.
How are you liking your new friends? They're all very nice.
Do you have a girlfriend yet?

Well, well, well that was a question to which I replied with a simple no.

Repeating these same responses to different people each time became extremely repetitive and boring. It was now nearing 10:30, which meant the sermon was soon to begin. The people who crowded the halls of the church found their ways to the rows of benches that faced the stage where the priest stood along with a band to sing along hymns.

Just as the priest was about to start his sermon, the doors which had been previously closed for the service, were opened. Everyone's gaze went to the person who caused the untimely interruption.

When I turned to look at the person, my mouth just about hit the floor. There stood Stella in a floral dress that maybe wasn't exactly appropriate for the church scene, but that was exactly the point. Stella didn't do the whole church and religion thing.

So why the hell was she in a church, or more importantly, my church?

My mother who was sat next to me turned toward the stage again and let out a scoff. "Can you believe that girl? This is the home of the lord and she comes in and not only interrupts a sermon but is dressed like she just came off the streets." She harshly spat under her breath. "I'm so happy you don't associate yourself with people like that Harold."

You don't know half of it mom.

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harry pov whatcha thinkkkkk??????!?!!

lol idk i like this chapt kinda but next chapta ohh lord lemme tell ju wat man

super intense mmk ;)))

SUPERBOWL TMR but like on a real note the muse of this story, one mr Harold Styles turns 21 tomorrow and I think I might just cry for a long, long time once I realize that all the memebers of one direction are now legal in the US :((

alright well we can all cry about it together

oh and guys i wanna talk to yall so like feel free to pm me bc i dont bite and im kinda cool.... ok not really but whatever ok

ok im just rambling like always

ily gucci rad babes<3333

gn gn gn see ya soon

& remember more comments lead to quicker updates

julia xx

[edited 4.15.19]