The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears. Thinking became painfully difficult, his head throbbed. Felix didn’t want to go home, wherever they were taking him now. No—rather, he didn’t want to leave Elias alone in that state. Whatever the boy had done, he didn’t deserve to be left alone. Felix decided that tomorrow, when Elias came to church—and the boy would certainly come—he would apologize. And demand an apology in return, because that kind of behavior was still unacceptable, and it was time for him to grow up.

  His wrist still burned like fire. So did the skin on his back. Felix thought that he had probably rubbed his already wounded skin raw with the cassock, but he didn’t dwell on it. There was no point.

  “This child is unbearable,” Katharina grumbled beside him. “Are you alright? What did he want?”

  “Don’t be too hard on him…” Felix offered his forearm so she could lean on it. “I’m fine. You don’t need to be so angry.”

  “Felix, you’ve always been kind,” she sighed, “but don’t let people do bad things to you. How many years have I been telling you that?”

  “Feels like my whole life,” Felix smiled sadly as he opened the gate to the house.

  “Then it’s time you listened,” Katharina sighed back, letting go of his arm as they reached the door.

  “Will you come in for tea?”

  “I’m tired. And don’t make your wife jealous. Good night, Felix.”

  They kissed each other on the cheeks and didn’t meet each other’s eyes again. Felix went inside and let out a weary breath as he took off his shoes. The warmth of the house no longer comforted him. And suddenly he couldn’t remember whether it ever had. He wasn’t sure if it was the argument with Molly or the conversation with Elias, but something had definitely changed. Something inside him. And only God knew what.

  Dinner was waiting for him on the stove—still warm—and from upstairs came the sound of running water. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to go upstairs either. But he climbed the steps anyway, trying to be as quiet as possible. A floorboard creaked beneath his foot, and the sound of the shower seemed to grow quieter. Felix sighed with an inexplicable sense of disappointment.

  In the bedroom, having taken off his cassock and changed into his pajamas, he knelt by the bed. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head, closing his eyes. A prayer for deliverance from sin flowed from his lips on its own. He heard a floorboard creak behind him and the door open, but he didn’t react. Molly stood silently in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Waiting.

  When he finished, Felix turned toward her—so tired, worn down, in a light, long robe with her wet hair loose. Her face was painfully indifferent. And suddenly he remembered how Elias’s face lit up when their eyes met by accident. Felix didn’t even have to do anything—Elias was already everywhere, ready to surround him with the warmth of his body, his smile, his voice… The thought made him nauseous.

  He and his wife had stopped even greeting each other, eventually slipping into complete mutual neglect. And when Molly got into bed and he heard her quiet, “When will this end…?” he didn’t respond. There was no point. Felix simply turned onto his other side so he wouldn’t see her and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  A day filled with prayers continued with cleaning. While the parish house gleamed under Katharina’s careful hands, Felix diligently washed the church floors of the traces left by strangers’ shoes. Of course, he could have asked Katharina or one of the volunteers to do it—he had done so at the beginning of his service. But now it seemed absurd. He was, after all, a fully grown, capable man, not a helpless old one. Asking for help in his position would be humiliating. He could manage on his own.

  Leaving the mop soaking in the bucket, he moved to the pews and wiped away the dust that had accumulated over the week. Every movement echoed off the walls. So the slight creak of the door made him flinch. Felix straightened and, out of habit, lifted his head, offering the newcomer a polite smile.

  “Good—” he suddenly faltered, “evening. What brings you here?”

  Elias stood in the doorway. His hair partially tied back, wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt, he looked a little embarrassed—and noticeably more decent than usual. In his hand was a large black bag.

  “I didn’t hear you pull up.”

  “I wasn’t making any noise,” Elias replied, still standing on the threshold, like a vampire waiting for an invitation. “I can ride quietly. I just usually like to announce my arrival in advance.”

  “Your ego is damaging to your soul,” Felix shook his head. “If you came to apologize, then—”

  “Actually, yes,” Elias cut in. “I’m sorry, Father Felix. Yesterday you pissed me off and I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have dragged you by your clothes down the road.”

  Felix was caught off guard, words dying in his throat. His stern face betrayed little emotion, as always, but he felt less like a righteous benefactor and more like a deer caught in headlights. Though he had wanted it, he hadn’t expected to hear an apology from Elias. A strange warmth spread through his chest, forcing his shoulders to relax.

  “Then forgive me as well,” the priest sighed. “Will you come in?”

  “You’re busy.”

  “Come in anyway.”

  Elias nodded and closed the creaking door behind him. He tossed the bag onto the third pew—the one he always used to sit in—and sat down beside it, crossing one leg over the other and lounging back with casual ease. Felix nodded silently and lowered his gaze, trying to ignore him as he continued cleaning. But Elias’s stare was so piercing it made breathing difficult. It felt as if the boy were burning straight through him, his eyes shifting between Felix’s bare wrists and his face.

  “What have you managed to do?” Elias finally broke the silence.

  “Washed the floor,” Felix replied. “I’m used to it. I work quickly.”

  “With hands like those, they made you clean?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” Felix tensed at the reminder. “And my hands are almost healed.”

  “And has this door always creaked?” Elias deliberately changed the subject, leaning back and nodding toward the exit.

  “As long as I can remember.”

  “And the handle? It’s hanging like a hanged man in a noose.”

  “It got hit with a crate once,” Felix sighed.

  “And fixing it?”

  “There’s no one to do it, Elias. Don’t be foolish.”

  “Listening to you, I do nothing but talk nonsense.”

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  Elias stood up and looked around. He went to the wall, tugged at one door handle, and immediately got a warning that it was the priest’s office and would remain locked until said priest decided otherwise. And he didn’t intend to. So Elias shrugged indifferently, pulled another handle, muttered a short, “Oh, found it,” and disappeared into the storage room—the door next to the small corridor leading to the parish house.

  Felix didn’t even notice that a single glance in that direction made him flustered. The memories were still too fresh, tangled with the self-punishment that had followed. And what, exactly, was happening to him?

  Elias returned six minutes later with a toolbox in his hands. To Felix, it looked faintly threatening, and he had to suppress the urge to step back.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You said there was no one to fix things. Well, here I am. I’ll take care of it.”

  And he did. Under the priest’s stunned gaze, Elias went outside, and through the slightly open door came the sound of bolts being screwed in. Unsure what else to do with himself, Felix continued cleaning. And Elias didn’t stop fixing things. It seemed as if everything in this old little church was falling apart—and it was almost surprising how many small details had slipped past those who had grown used to them. A wobbly pew and lectern, a slightly sunken step, a door handle, a window that wouldn’t close properly, poorly working lamps—some of which couldn’t be replaced at all. Elias noticed all of it almost immediately.

  By the time cleaning was finished, Felix had even sorted through the small library in his office, and still the boy wouldn’t settle down.

  When Felix stepped out of the office, Elias was standing by the wall, quietly cursing the unreliable ladder as he tried to fully tighten a bolt holding a candelabrum. Something inside resisted. Felix was the first to draw attention to himself—he approached and carefully touched Elias’s knee with his hand, the most acceptable place he could reach. Elias shook his head, brushing hair from his face, and looked down.

  “I’m not swearing!” he protested preemptively. “I’m saying perfectly decent things. It’s just annoying.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to say—but thank you for the clarification,” the priest smiled indulgently. “It’s time to stop making noise. It’s already night. Maybe you should rest. You’ve done a lot.”

  “And will you rest with me, or will you run home to your wife again?”

  “Don’t put me in that position,” Felix was clearly flustered, but he couldn’t refuse. It felt like Elias, out of sheer stubbornness, wouldn’t stop otherwise and would be rebuilding the church from the foundation by morning. “I won’t run.”

  “Alright then.”

  Elias jumped down from the ladder, making Bauer flinch slightly, and with an overly pleased expression headed toward the third pew. To his bag.

  “Do you have any food here? The blood and flesh of Jesus Christ, our Savior?”

  “Don’t clown around,” Felix sighed. “No, there’s no bread. I try not to keep food here. Rats and insects appear.”

  “No compassion for our hungry lesser brothers and God’s creatures?”

  “I do have compassion. But they scare children and ladies.”

  “And whose feelings concern you more—children’s or ladies’?”

  “Don’t say filthy things,” Felix sat down on the pew to Elias’s right and placed his hands on his knees, fingers interlaced.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Then children.”

  “Disgusting.”

  Felix didn’t understand why, but he smiled, tilting his head—smiled as if holding back laughter. Such nonsense shouldn’t have amused him, yet somehow everything about him was beginning to function differently. It felt as if the atmosphere shifted in the presence of a sinful face. Had he not lowered his gaze just then, he might have been truly frightened.

  Because Elias was watching him.

  Watching those lips, curved into a smile because of him, with such hunger it couldn’t help but be unsettling. In those deep black eyes reflected something truly animal. As if he were about to shed his human guise and pounce—sink his teeth into those lips, tear them from his face, devour them… But when Felix looked up again, he was met with the brightest smile.

  “Father Felix, I’ve got a little gift for you!” Elias leaned over his bag, rummaging inside.

  “I hope it’s nothing bad.”

  “Oh no, not at all!” He stood up, holding a dark glass bottle. “Just some very good red wine!”

  Felix was silent for a few seconds. His fingers clenched reflexively, but his rosary was in the office, and he couldn’t calm himself. Holding back his anger, Felix dug his nails into his own palm, disturbing the healing wound.

  “Elias, what is this?” He almost winced slightly, closing his eyes and turning his face away. “Put it away. Don’t tempt yourself—or me. The sin of gluttony is one of the gravest sins.”

  “Is it?” Elias studied the bottle thoughtfully, rocking it between his fingers. “I thought the gravest sin was betraying God. So you refuse the blood of Jesus, God’s gift, for the sake of your pride?”

  “No—”

  “You’re not addicted to alcohol. How is this gluttony?” Elias interrupted and playfully slid closer on the pew, forcing Felix to shift. “Come on. Don’t refuse me. Just try it! And if you don’t get addicted, you’ll prove your righteousness. No downsides for you.”

  Felix pressed his nails into his palm even harder, lips tight. He hated this trait of his—his love for beautiful things. His wife used to take advantage of it when she was younger. She would simply look at him with her large blue eyes, pleading, and Felix would agree to anything. And now Elias’s beautiful face worked just as flawlessly. Felix didn’t want to give in—but he nodded anyway, accepting the rules of the game.

  “Alright. Only because you’re asking.”

  “You’re sometimes so obedient,” Elias purred as he opened the bottle.

  There were no cups nearby—by accident or design—and Elias took the first swig, drinking deeply twice. With a noisy exhale, he pulled away, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and handed the bottle to the priest. Felix wiped the rim with his sleeve before bringing it to his mouth. His thin lips—still soft, though touched by age—closed around the neck of the bottle. His Adam’s apple bobbed at the first swallow as a bitter taste filled his mouth. Unfamiliar and unpleasant, his throat burned—but he couldn’t stop that quickly. The next few swallows were bolder, much to Elias’s delight. After the sixth, Felix lowered the bottle and turned away. He had never touched alcohol before, aside from a few drops of three-day-old wine, and he already felt the dizziness creeping in.

  “Woooow!” Elias clapped his hands. “Looks like your wife was wrong calling you boring! Turns out you can do very, very fun things.”

  “I was young once too,” Felix lied. “And what do you mean? What else did she say?”

  “I won’t tell,” Elias smiled slyly, tilting his head. “What if you believe me?”

  Felix smiled back, and it became noticeable how his ears and neck flushed under the influence of alcohol. It was even a little endearing—like giving a small child a forbidden, grown-up toy. Gradually the bitterness faded from his tongue, and the heat in his throat spread through his body, relaxing every cell. Elias watched him with undisguised pleasure, then leaned back against the pew and pulled the black elastic from his hair. The curls fell over his shoulders in a dark cascade, covering his strong neck and catching on his earrings.

  Felix didn’t even notice when his attention sharpened. How his gaze slid along the loose strands, the exposed tip of an ear, the straight nose like a mountain slope, the closed eyes. Despite being the embodiment of strength and masculinity, Elias’s eyelashes were long and soft, like a butterfly’s wing—and it was impossible not to notice. One wanted to touch them with fingertips, to see whether they would flutter away from an intrusive hand…

  “You’re beautiful,” Bauer said suddenly, surprising them both.

  “And you’re drunk,” Huber smiled back.

  They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes—Elias with his eyes closed, body fully open, and Felix growing drunker by the second, his face glowing with bliss. Thoughts tangled, vision blurred, and even the fourth of the mortal sins was hard to recall.

  “Why did you decide to serve God, Padre?” Elias suddenly broke the silence.

  “I didn’t decide. God simply set me on the right path.”

  “Oh, come on. Did you see a burning bush and convert?”

  “No. I’ve always believed.” Felix lazily turned toward him and propped his heavy head on his fist. “What else was I supposed to do?”

  “Anything,” Huber shrugged. “You must have dreams.”

  “I dream of getting into Heaven.”

  “That’s a dream for idiots. And you’re not an idiot. What did you want to be as a child?”

  Felix froze, suddenly feeling something in his chest tighten, scratch, and bloom into emptiness. Drunk, he couldn’t control his emotions at all and immediately grew sad, lowering his gaze. It landed on Elias’s palm, crossed by a thick vein.

  “I don’t know. No one?”

  “Liar.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to hear about your desires, not your habits.”

  “Once, I wanted to be a father. Not a saint. Just an ordinary one.”

  “And now you don’t?”

  “Molly can’t carry a child.”

  “Then divorce her and marry someone who can,” Elias said, amused. “You’re making a problem out of nothing.”

  “I don’t want to,” Felix frowned. “Molly is a good woman, and I swore before God to be with her.”

  “Well, now you’re not only with her,” Elias smirked, leaning back and closing his eyes. “How did you come to faith?”

  “I didn’t,” Felix replied after a moment. He couldn’t find another answer—he truly had never imagined a life without faith. “I’ve always believed, always went to church, attended a Christian school. Then I studied to be a priest and stayed here.”

  “You’re so boring.”

  “That’s how I am.”

  They sat in silence again. Elias rested after a long day of working with his hands, paying no attention to what was happening beside him. Felix, on the contrary, did. Suddenly his senses sharpened, inner barriers losing their importance—not all, but many. He had almost forgotten this trait of his: curiosity.

  And so, after a couple of minutes, Elias raised his brows in surprise and opened his eyes, looking down—at where Felix’s fingers touched his hand, boldly and uncharacteristically poking at the swollen vein on the back of his palm. Felix seemed amused by watching the vessel constrict beneath the skin, then swell again. Like a child, despite being twice his age. Only now it wasn’t amusing—it was endearing. One wanted to grab his flushed cheeks and bite his curious nose until the metallic taste of blood filled the mouth and erased the taste of alcohol.

  “Padre, give me a chance,” Elias began playfully, gently pulling his hand away. “Go on a date with me.”

  “Why are you saying this?” Felix smiled, running a hand over his face as if wiping away sweat. “Are you repeating what you told Molly? Do you think it’ll work on me too?”

  “No, I didn’t say that to Molly,” a blatant lie. “I like you. And I want to see your beautiful smile again.”

  “What nonsense…” Felix almost laughed, turning his eyes aside. “I’m a man—and an old one at that.”

  “That doesn’t make you unattractive.”

  “You’re the only one who thinks so.”

  “Am I not enough for you?”

  “I don’t know.” Felix dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his aching eyes. “Don’t ask me.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “You already said that.”

  “No, I didn’t. You imagined it,” Elias smiled slyly, studying him closely. “What are you wearing under the cassock?”