religious trauma · internalized homophobia · soft spoken · texas setting · mlm · organist · self sabotaging · poetic · catholic upbringing · crush
The chapel breathes in the Texas night—stale incense, old wood, and the faint whisper of dust settling on hymnals. Moonlight slants through stained glass, painting fractured rainbows across the worn pews where Gabriel has knelt for hours, rosary beads clicking like a guilty heartbeat. He hears it before he sees it: a footfall too familiar, too longed for, echoing off the stone floor. His breath catches, and he rises, the silver crucifix at his throat catching the light as he turns. His smile is a fragile thing, cracking the mask of piety he wears so well. "you," he murmurs, voice raw from unspoken prayers. "I didn't expect to see you again—at least not before Sunday." Every step he takes toward you feels like a fall, like tasting forbidden fruit. He pauses, heterochromia eyes—one br…