Sin For Me (bxb)

More Than Right

Damian

He loves me. He said he loves me. Jesus fucking christ he said he loves me.

No one has ever told me that before. No one has meant it, at least.

We stood, surrounded by old books and papers, soap and sponges, kissing against the door. His kiss felt real. Tangible. Like for the first time, he was sure that this was what he wanted. An unwavering touch against my warm skin.

I never wanted to let him go, but we needed to go to our lessons. If it wasn't for the pendulum clock clanging next to us, I doubt I would ever allow my lips to leave his.

We parted like two magnets, struggling against the pull to stay next to each other. I swooped in once more to capture his lips, feeling the curve of his tongue against mine.

"Say it again." I said.

"What?"

"That you love me."

"I love you, Damian. I love you. I love you. I love you."

"I love you." I said back. His smile melted me, the two dimples in his cheeks accenting the toothy grin.

He grasped my hand and tugged us through the hallways into the lesson room. The walls were lined with saints whose eyes seemed to follow us, but for once I didn't shy underneath their glares, instead I smiled back at their decrepit faces. They would never have something like this.

His hand left mine for the first time since the library as we entered the study. Hanson's eyes stared shyly at us, a bright blush on his babyish cheeks.

"Thank you for joining us, boys, please have a seat." It was mother Katherine. Whom I hated more and more everyday. Her coal black eyes, shallow and wrinkled face, hair pinned under a black veil as if she was mourning.

I sat near Jack, who was shuffling a stack of cards out of boredom. He clapped my back as I grabbed the notebook the church had given me for their lessons. It was coated in song lyrics and doodles, a pentagram here, and anarchy symbol there. Thomas scoffed at it every time he saw it, but I liked my little form of protest against the rules here.

Tom sat next to me, his notebook was neat and orderly, color coded by subject. His handwriting was small and conforming, especially when compared to the loopy scrawl I used.

"Open your notebook to page 617, today we will be discussing the renaissance, and the rise of sin that followed." She droned. I rolled my eyes and left my notebook closed. Instead I drew her, big crooked nose with the mole highlighted with Tom's yellow highlighter.

The bitch held Thomas's rapt attention. Her patronizing voice seemed to engage him. For me, it just made me tired. My fingers tapped on the desk, waiting for her long winded rant about the rise of humanism to end.

"Humanism centered around the man, and not god as it should have been. With art starting to focus on the mortal being, we lost the purity of earlier ages."

Finally she finished and left us all in the room alone. Suddenly all eyes were on me and Thomas.

"So you know that we know so we don't have to act like we don't know right?" Hanson said rapidly.

I shrugged, as did Thomas. "I guess not."

"So you two are puffs!?" Jack nearly screamed.

"Shh! Shut up! Just cause you idiots know doesn't mean the whole church needs to know!" I spat, waving my hands out.

Thomas nodded along, "Yes, please keep this between us."

Jack scratched his forehead, "So... you're puffs?"