Mercy (A gay gothic angel romance)

by Ian Haramaki

He couldn’t be Father Sokolov, always just Ilya. Even risking his life to save everyone hadn’t been enough. They had wanted him to die, hoping to get somebody new, somebody better. The people of Velak would rather be ravaged by a monster than have him exist.

Ilya wasn’t unpleasant company, but he was good at isolating himself and was incredibly neurotic. He was highly particular, the smallest thing out of place setting him on edge. Ilya complained when he smoked, complained even louder when he drank, even when it was a single beer. If he smelled anything stronger he’d crow about how he couldn’t be anywhere near him. He figured religious types were bound to be picky and judgemental, but Ilya was ridiculous.

But he knew one thing: no matter what she’d experienced, this woman was rotten, and anybody who felt the same as her? Equally rotten. That they rightfully condemned her and her behavior while sharing the same feelings about their current priest? That they all did her work for her in making his life miserable? It was unconscionable.

Danya placed his cigarette in his ashtray and shrugged. “Well, I figured down here would be a better place for it when I finished. It’s a radio I found in my room. Looked busted but not too bad, and I wanted to try fixing it for you…” Heat swam up Ilya’s neck with such immediacy he threatened to burst into flames. He swore it was because his body was adjusting to the temperature differences between here and the church. Nothing untoward whatsoever.

He’d spent his life being told he was a waste of space, that he didn’t matter. He repulsed everybody around him, rejecting him without ever knowing him. It was a life of isolation, and suddenly Danya was here in his space. Danya clearly cared for him. He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the implications of what they were doing.

“I know how wicked this town has been to you, how terrible that witch next door is to you. But you deserve to be happy, my boy. You should tell the people you care about that you want them around. If you’re holding back, let it go. We only have so much time until the Great Mother brings us home. Let your friend know you want him to stay.”

Sundays were for the Sun, of course. It was the day for weekly ceremony, celebrating the Eclipse, the union of Mother Sun and Father Moon.

The only thing in his life brighter than Danya was the Sun Herself. He was like sunbeams after a rainstorm, determined to break through all the gloom and reach him. Ilya knew he was being stubborn and ridiculous with their relationship. Danya was patient, but he could hold out forever. Ilya knew it was self-sabotage to hope he could deny Danya for long enough he’d move on, but he wasn’t worthy. If Danya had been blessed by the Sun, he’d never be worthy. And yet.

“Why are you crying, Ilyushka?” “Because you’re nice to me,” Ilya croaked, lip quivering as he tried to find his words, “And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

All Ilya dreamed about was Danya touching him. Feeling his admiration, those warm, brown-skinned hands running across his body, feeling every inch. Ilya wanted to do the same, to kiss every sparkling freckle on Danya’s face, to wrap his hands in that gorgeous red hair, taste the sweat on his skin. He wanted to meld together with this man, to give him his very soul. Ilya was in love with Danya.

“There’s somebody I’m very fond of, but he hates himself. He’s so cruel to himself and it kills me.” There was so much pain in Danya’s voice as he spoke. More guilt thrashed around inside of Ilya; his palms ached from the intensity of it. Danya continued, “He’s been beaten down his whole life, so I understand why he’s like this, but he won’t let anybody be kind to him. He won’t let me be kind to him. He looks confused every time it happens, doesn’t understand why I ever would be… Why doesn’t he understand?” Ilya swallowed and tried to gather his thoughts. This was it then. “Perhaps kindness scares him. Perhaps it’s been used against him so many times so that people can hurt him more.”

“He won’t let me love him, Father,” Danya croaked. “I want to love him. I know he wants it too. He must want it too, but every time I get close he pushes me away. He shuts himself off every time we’re even a little closer. I don’t understand anymore.”

“His love for me, whether he’ll admit to it or not, has helped me be myself again. I was a monster, he had every right to kill me and free the world from my evil, but he didn’t. There was so much love in his heart that his first instinct was to heal me, make me a man again… And now he’s made me an angel again. I would’ve never returned to myself if not for him.

“I want to give him everything he deserves, all that I am. He’s my whole world, Father, and I love him more than I can stand sometimes. I want my wings to come back and I want to fly him away from this wretched town full of wretched people and take him somewhere he can be himself. I want to make him happy.”

“Ilya, I’m begging you. I love you. I want to make you happy. Please stop punishing yourself because some heartless people have said you’re not worthy of affection.”

More like Danya enjoyed making Ilya desecrate his altar every week. “I asked my mom and she said it’s fine” is what he’d said. What a bold, terrible lie.