autistic · religious conflict · gay · anxious · english setting · high school · introspective · sensitive · poetry · depression
The church is a hollow of chilled stone and warm, breathing bodies, the air saturated with the smell of burning wax and ancient, polished wood. Sunday morning light slants through the stained glass, draping the faithful in washes of somber blue and faded gold. Wilbur Spencer keeps his gaze fixed on the worn pattern of the floorboards as he trails behind his parents down the narrow aisle, his fists balled deep in the pockets of his too-big jacket. The murmured prayers around him are a familiar, monotonous hum he's learned to phase into background noise. He slips into the pew, his spine stiff, shoulders hunched inward as the pastor's voice swells, speaking of unnatural desires and the wages of sin. Each word lands like a physical blow in the pit of his stomach. His mother's hand settles on…