Chapter Text
The cold had begun to seep through the folds of his cassock, but Ray barely felt it. He had been there too long, sitting on that stone bench, hidden among the tall, flowering hedges of one of the most secluded gardens in the Vatican—one of those secret corners few knew about, and the kind Thomas always preferred when he needed silence to pray. Now that space felt like his only salvation, his only refuge from the storm raging in his chest.
The garden was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a distant lamppost and the silver reflection of the moon on the leaves. Everything was still—a cruel calm that clashed with the chaos inside him.
—Fool…— Ray muttered to himself, his voice hoarse, nearly broken. He rubbed his hands together, not from the cold, but out of desperation. “Fool. Idiot. How did I not check the door was closed?”
The trembling in his fingers had nothing to do with the weather. It was fear, guilt, shame. His body still carried the stiffness of humiliation. That confession, that intimate outpouring he thought he had given only to Aldo, had been overheard by the one person who should never have heard it.
Remembering Thomas’s face disarmed him. He had seen him at the end, standing there in the shadows, eyes fixed on him like an open wound. That gaze—was it surprise, compassion, sorrow?—had lodged itself in his memory like a slow knife. How could he show up to work now? With what face? Should he apologize? Should he simply leave? Were they already speaking ill of him? Had he destroyed the friendship between Thomas and Aldo with a broken confession, with a phrase uttered from the depths of his soul, never meant to be heard?
—Should I resign?—he whispered, feeling his heart tighten even more. The thought of leaving hurt him, but not as much as staying, knowing he had broken something irreparably.
He hugged himself, hunched over on the bench, and for a moment, wished to disappear. To be wind, to be nothing. Anything but a man who loved what was forbidden and who had, on top of that, exposed that love by accident. He decided he would write his resignation. He could ask for a transfer. Ireland didn’t sound so bad. Back with his family, returning to the simple prayer of his childhood. An exile, a punishment, a false peace. Yes, that’s what he would do.
So deep was he in that sea of thoughts that he almost screamed when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
He spun around, heart leaping into his throat… and there was Thomas.
The black cassock, the tired face, the gaze so familiar that for a moment he thought he was dreaming. Ray stepped back. He wanted to run. Truly run. To vanish. His mind raced, searching for escape routes, excuses, anything.
—I feared you had fused with the bench—Thomas said, with a half-awkward smile.
The words caught him off guard. Was that a joke? Was this real? Was Thomas joking? His confusion was so great he couldn’t even laugh. He just looked at him, soul shrinking. Thomas sighed.
—I’m sorry— he said then, with a sincerity that broke him even more.— For listening without permission. It wasn’t my intention… not at first.
Ray wanted to interrupt. He couldn’t bear rejection. Not that night. Not with his heart in pieces.
—Don’t worry— he murmured, voice breaking. “I was already thinking of resigning anyway. The confession was… a mistake.”
—A mistake?— Thomas repeated, as if the word hurt him.
—Yes— Ray said, lowering his gaze.— A mistake that should never have been heard. Please, do me the favor of forgetting it. That way I can leave for Ireland in peace. Tomorrow you’ll have my resignation letter on your desk, Your Eminence. And if you’ll excuse me…
He tried to turn away, but Thomas stopped him, with a gentleness stronger than any command.
—No. I don’t want to forget it.
—Your Eminence, please— Ray begged, not knowing if he asked for mercy or salvation— I can’t. Not tonight. Not after that.
Thomas looked at him, and then he spoke. His voice was low, like a prayer, and each word was a sweet, devastating blow.
—I have always been a man of faith. I obeyed, I served. The righteousness of my path was my pride. But also my cross. I thought that obedience was saving me… until you appeared, Ray.
Ray looked at him, not understanding.
—Your voice, your laughter. The way you fold papers when you’re nervous. Your devotion. I fell in love with you without permission. With guilt. With fear. I believed myself unworthy. I thought loving someone like you could only be sin… but I never regretted loving you. Never.
Ray felt the world stop spinning. Something in his chest broke… or was rebuilt. He didn’t know. He only knew he needed to touch him. He hugged him, clung to him with all his strength, as tears streamed uncontrollably down his face. He was the frightened boy, the man in love, the believer lost and found in the arms of someone who had also been afraid.
—Thomas…—he whispered.— You love me…
—Yes— Thomas said, stroking his head with reverent tenderness.— I love you. You saved me.
They stayed like that for a long time. Until the cold forced them back to reality. Ray pulled away a little, his eyes still wet.
—We should go somewhere more private— he said.— To talk, I mean. It’s too cold out here, Your Eminence.
Thomas nodded.
—You lead the way.
They reached Thomas’s office. They entered unhurriedly, as if crossing that door were a sacred act. This time, Ray made sure to close it carefully. They remained silent for a few seconds, looking at each other. There were no duties left to pretend, no agendas to review. But Ray, ever meticulous, broke the ice with a joke.
—Would you like me to go over tomorrow’s schedule, Your Eminence?
—Only if you give me another one of those hugs after.
Ray laughed, and that laugh was so free that even Thomas smiled. They drew closer. Slowly. With fear and longing. Ray raised a trembling hand, placed it on Thomas’s chest. He felt the heartbeat. His heart. Alive. Strong. And then he lifted his gaze, and without a word, leaned in. He did it slowly, giving Thomas time to pull away… but Thomas didn’t. He leaned forward too, and when their lips met, it was as if the world was created anew.
The kiss was tender at first, then deeper. Like a prayer spoken with the lips, an acknowledgment, a surrender. Ray clung to Thomas’s cassock tightly, while he felt Thomas’s hands caress his back, his neck, his hair. They parted, barely.
—This kind of conversation I like—Thomas whispered, almost breathless.
Ray laughed, his forehead resting against his.
—Me too…—he murmured.
They kissed again. Slower. Longer. With the soft desperation of those who had waited too long. Ray felt each touch like a blessing, like a sacrament. He noticed how Thomas’s body responded, how he trembled. They lost themselves in that moment, forgetting time, the walls, the world. Ray’s hands tangled in the cassock, and Thomas’s fingers gripped his waist firmly. The air was charged with something sacred. Desire, yes, but also adoration. They parted slightly, lips damp, eyes alight.
And when they finally drew back, lips wet, cheeks flushed, eyes shining, Ray said:
—Shall we have dinner?
—Whatever you want— Thomas replied, dazed, happy.
Ray looked at him. His kissed lips, his relaxed face, his gaze so different from usual. A rush of love swept through him.
—I know a great restaurant.
Thomas nodded. And if the next morning dawned with him in Ray’s bed, wrapped in blankets and love, no one would have the right to judge what God had already blessed.
Because in the end, love can also be a form of prayer.
And this… was the most sincere they had ever spoken.