Leviticus 20:13
Prologue
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ryan snapped. “Quit being so damn homophobic, Brendon. It’s really starting to piss me off. I’m sooo sorry if my hand accidentally touched yours. Get the fuck over it.”
Brendon stood there, biting his bottom lip and looking like he was trying not to cry. “I . . .”
“You what?” Ryan’s eyes were narrowed.
“My parents found out I’m gay when I was fourteen.” Brendon blurted out. “They think I’m cured. My mom took me to the church and I went through religious counseling and prayed, like, a dozen times a day in front of them for God to cleanse me of my sins. They think I’m cured. I . . . I kind of thought I was, too. Or hoped at least.”
Ryan’s face was a mixture between confusion and disgust. “Being gay’s not a sin. I can’t believe they’d try to fucking cure you.”
“It is a sin.” Brendon insisted. “They were just trying to save my soul.”
“Whatever.” Ryan said, rolling his eyes. “I guess I’m totally going to hell then. I mean, I’ve kissed five guys and I touched your gay Mormon hand.”
Brendon flinched.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Ryan said, sighing. He reached out for Brendon’s hands and the younger boy took them, shaking. Ryan pulled him onto the bed. “Being gay isn’t a sin, Brendon. God wouldn’t make you gay just to punish you.”
“He’s testing my faith.” Brendon whispered. “He wants to make sure I can resist temptation.”
“But . . .” Ryan’s mind searched for words. Theological discussions were not his strong point. “You’re a good person, Bren. Being gay doesn’t change that.”
“’For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.’”
“Quit being stupid.” Ryan snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with you being gay. You can’t fucking control it. It’s not your fault. It’s your parents’ and that stupid fucking minister guy who told you it was wrong. They lied to you.”
“The Bible says—“
“—that we shouldn’t eat shellfish and wear clothes of two different fabrics? Yeah, I know. Your shirt’s probably fuckin’ polyester and cotton. I don’t see you praying for that.”
And as much as he didn’t want to, Brendon started to cry. He lowered his head as the sobs started to choke him, wiping at his streaming eyes. He only cried harder when Ryan wrapped his arms around him, slowly bringing his arms around the older boy. He was whispering against Ryan’s chest. “. . . lead us from temptation and deliver us from evil . . .”
“Quit praying.”
“. . . forgive my sins and blasphemy . . .”
“Quit praying.” Ryan said, a bit more forceful this time.
“. . . lead me from darkness and bring me into your—“
“Stop fucking praying!” Ryan screamed, pulling away from Brendon. He grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him.
There were a few more minutes of Brendon sobbing before his cries became quieter and finally he was hiccuping and wiping at his tear-soaked cheeks. “I-I’m sorry.” he mumbled. “I . . . I just . . . I believe this stuff, Ry, even if you don’t.”
Ryan sighed heavily. “I know.” He pulled Brendon into a hug. “I just wish you didn’t.”
Brendon stood there, biting his bottom lip and looking like he was trying not to cry. “I . . .”
“You what?” Ryan’s eyes were narrowed.
“My parents found out I’m gay when I was fourteen.” Brendon blurted out. “They think I’m cured. My mom took me to the church and I went through religious counseling and prayed, like, a dozen times a day in front of them for God to cleanse me of my sins. They think I’m cured. I . . . I kind of thought I was, too. Or hoped at least.”
Ryan’s face was a mixture between confusion and disgust. “Being gay’s not a sin. I can’t believe they’d try to fucking cure you.”
“It is a sin.” Brendon insisted. “They were just trying to save my soul.”
“Whatever.” Ryan said, rolling his eyes. “I guess I’m totally going to hell then. I mean, I’ve kissed five guys and I touched your gay Mormon hand.”
Brendon flinched.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Ryan said, sighing. He reached out for Brendon’s hands and the younger boy took them, shaking. Ryan pulled him onto the bed. “Being gay isn’t a sin, Brendon. God wouldn’t make you gay just to punish you.”
“He’s testing my faith.” Brendon whispered. “He wants to make sure I can resist temptation.”
“But . . .” Ryan’s mind searched for words. Theological discussions were not his strong point. “You’re a good person, Bren. Being gay doesn’t change that.”
“’For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.’”
“Quit being stupid.” Ryan snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with you being gay. You can’t fucking control it. It’s not your fault. It’s your parents’ and that stupid fucking minister guy who told you it was wrong. They lied to you.”
“The Bible says—“
“—that we shouldn’t eat shellfish and wear clothes of two different fabrics? Yeah, I know. Your shirt’s probably fuckin’ polyester and cotton. I don’t see you praying for that.”
And as much as he didn’t want to, Brendon started to cry. He lowered his head as the sobs started to choke him, wiping at his streaming eyes. He only cried harder when Ryan wrapped his arms around him, slowly bringing his arms around the older boy. He was whispering against Ryan’s chest. “. . . lead us from temptation and deliver us from evil . . .”
“Quit praying.”
“. . . forgive my sins and blasphemy . . .”
“Quit praying.” Ryan said, a bit more forceful this time.
“. . . lead me from darkness and bring me into your—“
“Stop fucking praying!” Ryan screamed, pulling away from Brendon. He grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him.
There were a few more minutes of Brendon sobbing before his cries became quieter and finally he was hiccuping and wiping at his tear-soaked cheeks. “I-I’m sorry.” he mumbled. “I . . . I just . . . I believe this stuff, Ry, even if you don’t.”
Ryan sighed heavily. “I know.” He pulled Brendon into a hug. “I just wish you didn’t.”