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The air in St. Vincent de Paul Catholic Church was thick with the scent of incense and polished wood. The golden morning sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting patterns of red, blue, and green onto the pews. Brady Gallagher sat stiffly beside his mother and father, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
Father Wojciech, the Polish priest who had arrived at the parish earlier that year, stood at the pulpit, his rich accent filling the space. "In today's Gospel, we are reminded of God's divine plan for humanity. He created man and woman to love and to build a family in accordance with His will."
Brady's stomach churned as the sermon took a turn. Father Wojciech's tone grew more pointed. "There are many temptations in this world that lead us astray, away from the love of God. We must resist unnatural desires and sinful paths. We must pray for strength to uphold His truth."
The words hit Brady like a physical blow. His chest tightened, and he felt his face grow hot. He stared at his shoes, trying to drown out the priest's voice. But the harder he tried, the louder the words seemed to echo in his mind.
Unnatural. Sinful.
Brady's thoughts spiraled back to the porch just a few nights ago. David's lips on his. The warmth of his hands, the unspoken understanding between them. It had felt right in a way Brady couldn't explain. And yet, sitting here, surrounded by symbols of his family's faith, doubt began to creep in. Was he doing something wrong?
He glanced sideways at his parents. His father sat upright, his expression stoic, while his mother bowed her head in quiet reverence. They were so devout, so sure of their beliefs. What would they think if they knew? Would they see him as broken, as a sinner?
The service ended, and Brady followed his parents out into the crisp autumn air. The church bells rang out, but the sound only deepened his unease.
That afternoon, Brady's mood hadn't lifted. He sat cross-legged on his bed, fidgeting with the edge of his comforter. His room was a reflection of his personality--bookshelves crammed with novels and philosophy texts, posters of his favorite bands, and a desk cluttered with papers and pens.
David was sprawled on the floor, flipping through a gaming magazine. He looked up when he noticed Brady's silence. "You okay? You've been quiet all day."
Brady hesitated, then sighed. "We went to church this morning. The priest... he said some stuff about--about people like us. That it's wrong. That it's a sin."
David sat up, his brow furrowed. "Brady..."
"I keep thinking about it," Brady admitted, his voice trembling. "What if he's right? What if what we're doing is wrong? What if... what if I'm wrong?"
David moved to sit beside him on the bed. He didn't say anything at first, just placed a hand on Brady's knee, grounding him.
"Do you think what we have feels wrong?" David asked softly.
Brady shook his head. "No! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"Then don't let anyone make you feel ashamed," David said firmly. "You're not wrong, Brady. What we have isn't wrong."
Brady looked at him, uncertainty still etched across his face. "But what if it's harder for us? What if people don't understand?"
David's eyes softened, and he reached for Brady's hand. "I know it's not going to be easy. People might judge us, but I don't care about them. I want this... with you."
Brady's breath caught at the sincerity in David's voice. He searched David's face for any sign of doubt, but there was none.
David squeezed his hand. "We'll figure it out together. Whatever happens, we'll get through it."
The tension in Brady's chest began to ease, replaced by a warmth that spread through him. He leaned closer, his heart pounding as he closed the distance between them.
David's hand slid up to cup the back of Brady's neck, pulling him closer. Their lips met, soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepening as their emotions spilled over.
All the doubt and fear melted away. It didn't matter what anyone else thought. All that mattered was this moment, and the boy sitting beside him.