The day after, the man came again.

His entry was soft, calm, purposeful. Once again, he stood inside the doors, waiting for me to ask him to step inside. When I did, he came to the confessional, sat down, the screen separating us.

"Do you wish to speak?" I asked softly.

"I just wanted to say..." His voice was steady now; he was not crying. "Since I told you... I feel much better."

"You sound better", I said. "I'm happy for you."

"It doesn't mean I'm not addicted. But it means I can be a bit happy."

"Don't feel any pressure from my side. Whatever you need, I'll provide it."

I heard the man suck in his breath through his teeth, and I suddenly realised what I had said. I blushed.

"Well... What do you want?" he asked. 

"This is about you", I said. "I'm the priest."

"Yes, but first of all, I desire to know what you want. Second, this is not a religion thing anymore."

I couldn't help but smirk. But I wanted to take his desires seriously.

"I would like to get to know you better. About your life. Small things, you know. Favourite colour. Favourite food. Favourite childhood memory. How come you chose medicine."

"My favourite colour is orange", he began, his voice dark and soft. "I love salmon. My favourite childhood memory is all of the Christmases me and my brother went to the carnival in the city, eating candied grapes and going on the Ferris wheel together. And I chose medicine because of him. Because of my little brother. I wanted to help other children to keep their siblings, so they could have happy memories just like me."

His voice cracked; I understood he was crying, but this time because he was touched.

"Thank you for sharing", I said.

"What about you?" he asked.

I told him my favourite colour was green, that I loved nachos, and that my favourite memory was the early winter mornings when I had breakfast before school while it was snowing outside. 

And it went on like that.

He kept coming after each confession. Every time, he would tell me a little bit more about himself, and I would tell him a little bit about me. Snippets at first, like our favourite breakfasts (American pancakes with butter and syrup for him, oatmeal with blueberries for me), but also deeper things like politics and economy. I was relieved to find he had sound political views, and, somehow, I was also relieved he was critical against the church. I told him I considered stopping the confessions, and he was very supportive. He said he could come visit me in the confessional anyway. I thanked him, told him for telling me that. All in all, we got to know each other over the course of a few weeks, bit by bit. Both of us were honest about how we felt, each time. He would be bad, or less bad, but never good, I noticed.

"How come?" I asked once.

I could hear the small smile in his voice as he answered.

"I'm only good when I've injected."

I shivered. 

And I was suddenly filled with a desire to tear the screen between us part, throw myself over him, hold him tight against my chest and protect him, against everything bad that could ever happen to him.

And I had noticed something else... Something else that worried me deeply. For every time he came to me, he seemed to be more and more abstinent. 

In the beginning, he'd been almost normal, but the last few weeks had brought with them a rapid progression of a behaviour I understood was abstinence. He spoke through gritted teeth. I could hear him plucking his clothes and skin. And he seemed much more distraught, much more distant.

"I'm so scared I'll lose you", I confessed. "Before I even know who you are."

"And before I know who you are.

I was quiet, and the man was quiet as we contemplated our... friendship. We knew each other's favourite colour, but didn't know each other's names. Neither of us ever asked, as if the other's name was something sacred that could never be touched.

"My name and age is no secret", I told him. "Neither are my looks. You are always welcome to a worship service."

"I don't worship your God", he mocked with warmth in his voice.

"No", I said softly. "But you can worship me."

The tension between us after I had said that was electrical, a lightning bold going from him to me to connect us once and for all. 

The day of the next confession, I felt ease in my heart.

I felt ease in my heart because I knew I would meet him.

So this is what it feels like.

The excitement I felt over-shadowed any guilt I felt towards God, any fright I felt regarding the man's addiction. I was filled with a warm sensation that everything would be okay, that God would help me make everything okay.

I went running again, finding it a perfect way to ease my mind. I took a shower. I made a simple potato salad to eat. And I waited.

But somehow, I had managed to forget the rest of my life.

I hadn't noticed that I hadn't heard from Tobirama or Izuna in a while. I hadn't noticed that I had been terrible at checking up on them myself. I hadn't noticed that I had been a terrible brother, and a terrible friend.

If I hadn't been so self-cantered, maybe I would have noticed earlier that something was wrong. 

If I hadn't been so blinded by my own desires, maybe I would have been able to help. 

If I hadn't been so terrible, maybe I would have been able to prevent a lot of pain.

After I had finished my salad and done the dishes, I went out and bought coffee and brought it in. I sat in a bench front of the main altar with my coffee and a book, allowing myself to love life just for a moment. I prayed to God, prayed that he would keep the man safe, and give him strength. I couldn't remember last time I had felt so whole, last time I had felt so easy at heart, so much at ease.

But of course, God would punish me for my egoism. He would never let anything like that go unnoticed, especially when it came to his sworn servants, which was what I had become when I accepted my role in the biggest cathedral in the country.

The door to the cathedral burst open.

And I immediately knew something was wrong.

I stood up and turned around. One per of me was certain it was the man. That I would finally see his face.

But it wasn't.

In the doorway stood my little brother, his skin even more ashen than usual. I realised I hadn't seen him in a few weeks, and he looked awfully thin. His eyes were red and puffy; he had clearly been crying.

He staggered towards me as I stood frozen in place, deep in shock.

When he came closer, I noticed he was no longer wearing his wedding band.

"Tobirama..."

"I can't take it anymore", he whispered.

Then, he sunk down on the ground and started screaming.