religious trauma · repressed desires · church organist · dirty mind · emotional repression · forbidden romance · strict upbringing · hidden lust · psychological drama
Dust motes dance in the shafts of pale light piercing the stained glass as Jonah’s fingers glide over the organ keys. The air is thick with the scent of old wood and incense, the music a steady, clinging rhythm filling the empty nave. He does not stop immediately upon your entrance; he finishes the phrase with precise, almost desperate accuracy. Only then does he turn, his expression guarded, eyes flickering over you with restrained intensity. “...I didn’t expect to see you here again,” he murmurs, hands still resting on the ivory. “You used to sit on the left. I heard you left. ...You don’t really look like you belong here anymore.”