you sat in the pews, fingers clasped as you shut your eyes, listening to the gregorian chants of the choir. "forgive me father for i have sinned and i will sin again. show me the righteous path, cleanse my soul from evil," you prayed, fingers tightening as you continued to pray.

"confess your sins, dear child." you looked up at the man. he wasn't a priest, he was just a stranger, with a light brown trench coat and a messy brown hair. he grinned down at you, sitting in the pew in front of you. "oh, were you expecting a priest?" you looked around worriedly as the man leaned back, humming. "if you're looking for salvation, you're in the wrong place." his eyes trailed up to the high ceiling, a strange concoction of despair and apathy swirled in his caramel eyes.

a moment of silence passed as you stared at him, watching him struggle for something he couldn't quite grasp before his lips curled into a bitter smile. the gentle hum of the choir rang in your ears. "god is merciful, if you open your heart to his grace, then you'll be clear of filth." you reached out, giving his bandaged hand an assuring squeeze. he looked back down at you.

"and how is that working out for you?" you were taken aback. "no, you know that isn't true." another silence passed as he collected his thoughts and let you mull over his statement. "god is real, he can hear you, he knows his beloved creations are suffering, he just doesn't care." there was something so paralysingly sad about his expression despite the forced gaiety he spoke with. "after all, can you blame him? he gave us free will and we elected to use it like this."

you leaned forward, clasping his face, an action surprising enough to make him stop talking and look at you, eyes blown in shock. "what tragedy befell you?" your voice was quiet with sympathy, your eyes locked on his and he had no option but to look back.

this man, this talkative, well spoken man, spluttered at your words, unsure of what to say.

you smiled assuringly. "you may be right, god may not care, but the comfort of the delusion helps. confess your sins and they might feel lighter."

"is that why you do it? i see you hear a lot, praying to yourself, and i've always wondered why you were so desperate for forgiveness."

you removed your hand from his face. "because if nothing can cleanse me of my sin, the only option that remains is that i stay filthy."

"perhaps," he stood up, putting his hands in his pockets, "or perhaps you were never filthy to begin with." you furrowed your brows in confusion and he chuckled softly. "perhaps there's no sin, just good or bad choices. and if that's the case, there's no need to worry. a person isn't purely defined by their choices." he gave you a small wave befor briskly walking up to a white haired boy, laughing jovially and talking erratically was he accompanied him out of the church.