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The boy is marred in sin.
He lives without family, but he has cobbled together something close. With rock and mud and a few puppies too.
Dante is coming to visit the boy, he lives close by in a monastery. Not many adults know they’re here, but Dante does. The boy loves Dante a lot, even if he is an idiot.
The boy chews around the word love in his mouth. They’ve said it to each other a few times, and it’s finally starting to feel right.
Dante is warm. He’s bright and proud and always gets himself hurt. He makes the boy worry far too much. Even with his admissions he keeps getting into fights. The monastery kids see him as an other. The boy grits his teeth whenever he thinks about that.
The boy loves Dante. He enjoys all of their time together. When they lay in the grass soaking up the sun, when they share a story the boy is reading, whenever they play with the puppies. They’re trying new things too. His lips linger where Dante kissed him last. It tasted sweet, from a snack Dante had eaten at the monastery. He licks his lips again. Still sweet.
Dante wants him to head to the monastery with him. He mentions it quite a lot. The boy doesn’t trust it. Even if he did, he could never go. The boy understands it is said out of worry. He understands the situation is far from ideal. He wishes it could be different, but the boy knows firsthand the chill cast by the church’s shadow. It is a chill he can never escape from.
The boy curls into himself as his body throbs with pain at the memories. Hickeys and bruises scatter his body, tallying up his sins. His own body sold for cash. It’s the only way to support the others. Even if holding it in his hands makes bile rise up in his throat. Holding the sum of his worth in hand is a terrible feeling.
The boy’s own body has become monument to sin. To his own and to the Father who made him this way. Shame freezes him in place every time he stares upon it. Each view of his reflection feels like approaching doom.
Under his clothes he knows the marks are hidden away. He can see them no matter what. He’s begun to forgot where he got them all. Each time blends together, until he can barely remember how this started. All he remembers is the deal he made with the father.
The boy is far from innocent. His own thoughts have turned disgraceful and wicked. He’s hounded by them when he sleeps and when he wakes. His mind is insatiable, craving to spread the sin he is already drawing him. Within this swirl of sinful thoughts Dante is the eye of the storm, the boy’s wretched poison sloshing through his veins in desire whenever he gets near. It’s enough to make him vomit from shame whenever the other boy leaves. Even still he wants to touch the other…to caress and hold and-
The sharp pain of his fist on his cheek snaps him out of it. The boy fears the day where it cannot.
His own body is lost to sin. He fears his mind is next. Dante would never forgive him if he found out about this. If he knew what horrible things the boy allowed done onto him. He’d abandon him for sure. The thought hurts worse than the countless welts on his body.
When Dante arrives later that day the boy he squeezes his hand extra tight, selfishly wishing to never part again.
If only it could be so.