ALTAR BOY : HOLY IN THEIR EYES SINFUL IN HIS.

The church smelled like incense and old wood. Clinton wipes sweat off from his forehead with the back of his sleeve, adjusting the white collar that felt two sizes too tight. Sunday service has ended half hour ago but the pews where still filled with aunties gossiping and children chasing each other with hymn books. "pastor's son, lock up after you are done,"his father's voice echoed from that morning ."And don't touch anything. God is watching you. God was always watching in this town. That's why Clinton's hands shook when he heard the drums. Thump. Thump. Thump -Thump -Thump. It wasn't the choir drum. Those were soft, obedient , practiced on Wednesdays. This was raw . loud .Defiant . Coming from the storage room behind the altar. The door was locked.Supposed to be locked. Clinton pushed it opened anywhere. David sat on an overturned crate, drumsticks flying between his fingers like they were born there.His white singlet was soaked through, clinging to tattoos that disappeared under his skin.Hair messy.eyes closed .lips moving to a song Clinton didn't know but felt it in his chest. David didn't open his eyes. "you're late", he said. Clinton swallowed. "The church is closed". David's eyes snap opened.Dark. Amused and dangerous. "So lock it". The drumbeat didn't stop.It got faster as if David's heartbeat was inside the wood. Clinton stepped inside. the smell of sweat and rain hit him first .Then the heat from David's body. "you are not supposed to be here", Clinton said but his voice was softer now. David grinned, slow and crooked."Neither are you, pastor's son". The title made Clinton flinch.He'd heard it his entire life .A crown. A cage. "you played like you hate something", Clinton whispered. "Yeah," David said. I hate that I have to hide it. Clinton's eyes flicker to the door.If anyone saw him in here with David- the bad boy who dropped out of school , who smoked behind the market, who has the police file thick as the bible. He would be disowned. David saw the fear. "Scared?" David asked while standing up.He was taller than Clinton .broader. Clinton didn't answer. Instead he reached out and touch the drum skin.it was warm. "Teach me", he said before he could even stop himself. David's eyebrows raised."You?,the altar boy." Clinton nodded .I want to know what it feels like to not be good all the time. For a second, David just stared .Then he placed a drumstick in Clinton's palm.Clinton's finger trembled around it. "Don't blame me when God strikes u down ",David murmmured, leaning close.So close Clinton could smell smoke and sweat and something else . something sweet. Clinton heart murmmured more louder and heavier than the drums . "let him strike", Clinton whispered back. "Am tired of being good". "One , two , three". Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump The sound echoed through the empty and quiet church door clicked shut . Locked. No one was coming to save them now.