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tortoise-n33ds-purpose · 9 months ago

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The Gospel According to Saint John (Douay-Rheims Version with annotations by Bishop Richard Challoner)

Chapter 6

Christ feeds five thousand with five loaves. He walks upon the sea and discourses of the bread of life.

1 After these things Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, which is that of Tiberias. 2 And a great multitude followed him, because they saw the miracles which he did on them that were diseased. 3 Jesus therefore went up into a mountain, and there he sat with his disciples. 4 Now the pasch, the festival day of the Jews, was near at hand. 5 When Jesus therefore had lifted up his eyes, and seen that a very great multitude cometh to him, he said to Philip: Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?

6 And this he said to try him; for he himself knew what he would do. 7 Philip answered him: Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one may take a little. 8 One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, saith to him: 9 There is a boy here that hath five barley loaves, and two fishes; but what are these among so many? 10 Then Jesus said: Make the men sit down. Now there was much grass in the place. The men therefore sat down, in number about five thousand.

11 And Jesus took the loaves: and when he had given thanks, he distributed to them that were set down. In like manner also of the fishes, as much as they would. 12 And when they were filled, he said to his disciples: Gather up the fragments that remain, lest they be lost. 13 They gathered up therefore, and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above to them that had eaten. 14 Now those men, when they had seen what a miracle Jesus had done, said: This is of a truth the prophet, that is to come into the world. 15 Jesus therefore, when he knew that they would come to take him by force, and make him king, fled again into the mountain himself alone.

16 And when evening was come, his disciples went down to the sea. 17 And when they had gone up into a ship, they went over the sea to Capharnaum; and it was now dark, and Jesus was not come unto them. 18 And the sea arose, by reason of a great wind that blew. 19 When they had rowed therefore about five and twenty or thirty furlongs, they see Jesus walking upon the sea, and drawing nigh to the ship, and they were afraid. 20 But he saith to them: It is I; be not afraid.

21 They were willing therefore to take him into the ship; and presently the ship was at the land to which they were going. 22 The next day, the multitude that stood on the other side of the sea, saw that there was no other ship there but one, and that Jesus had not entered into the ship with his disciples, but that his disciples were gone away alone. 23 But other ships came in from Tiberias; nigh unto the place where they had eaten the bread, the Lord giving thanks. 24 When therefore the multitude saw that Jesus was not there, nor his disciples, they took shipping, and came to Capharnaum, seeking for Jesus. 25 And when they had found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him: Rabbi, when camest thou hither?

26 Jesus answered them, and said: Amen, amen I say to you, you seek me, not because you have seen miracles, but because you did eat of the loaves, and were filled. 27 Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that which endureth unto life everlasting, which the Son of man will give you. For him hath God, the Father, sealed. 28 They said therefore unto him: What shall we do, that we may work the works of God? 29 Jesus answered, and said to them: This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he hath sent. 30 They said therefore to him: What sign therefore dost thou shew, that we may see, and may believe thee? What dost thou work?

31 Our fathers did eat manna in the desert, as it is written: He gave them bread from heaven to eat. 32 Then Jesus said to them: Amen, amen I say to you; Moses gave you not bread from heaven, but my Father giveth you the true bread from heaven. 33 For the bread of God is that which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life to the world. 34 They said therefore unto him: Lord, give us always this bread. 35 And Jesus said to them: I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall not hunger: and he that believeth in me shall never thirst.

36 But I said unto you, that you also have seen me, and you believe not. 37 All that the Father giveth to me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me, I will not cast out. 38 Because I came down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him that sent me. 39 Now this is the will of the Father who sent me: that of all that he hath given me, I should lose nothing; but should raise it up again in the last day. 40 And this is the will of my Father that sent me: that every one who seeth the Son, and believeth in him, may have life everlasting, and I will raise him up in the last day.

41 The Jews therefore murmured at him, because he had said: I am the living bread which came down from heaven. 42 And they said: Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How then saith he, I came down from heaven? 43 Jesus therefore answered, and said to them: Murmur not among yourselves. 44 No man can come to me, except the Father, who hath sent me, draw him; and I will raise him up in the last day. 45 It is written in the prophets: And they shall all be taught of God. Every one that hath heard of the Father, and hath learned, cometh to me.

[44] "Draw him": Not by compulsion, nor by laying the free will under any necessity, but by the strong and sweet motions of his heavenly grace.

46 Not that any man hath seen the Father; but he who is of God, he hath seen the Father. 47 Amen, amen I say unto you: He that believeth in me, hath everlasting life. 48 I am the bread of life. 49 Your fathers did eat manna in the desert, and are dead. 50 This is the bread which cometh down from heaven; that if any man eat of it, he may not die.

51 I am the living bread which came down from heaven. 52 If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give, is my flesh, for the life of the world. 53 The Jews therefore strove among themselves, saying: How can this man give us his flesh to eat? 54 Then Jesus said to them: Amen, amen I say unto you: Except you eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you. 55 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath everlasting life: and I will raise him up in the last day.

[54] "Eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood": To receive the body and blood of Christ, is a divine precept, insinuated in this text; which the faithful fulfil, though they receive but in one kind; because in one kind they receive both body and blood, which cannot be separated from each other. Hence, life eternal is here promised to the worthy receiving, though but in one kind. Ver. 52. If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give, is my flesh for the life of the world. Ver. 58. He that eateth me, the same also shall live by me. Ver. 59. He that eateth this bread, shall live for ever.

56 For my flesh is meat indeed: and my blood is drink indeed. 57 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, abideth in me, and I in him. 58 As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father; so he that eateth me, the same also shall live by me. 59 This is the bread that came down from heaven. Not as your fathers did eat manna, and are dead. He that eateth this bread, shall live for ever. 60 These things he said, teaching in the synagogue, in Capharnaum.

61 Many therefore of his disciples, hearing it, said: This saying is hard, and who can hear it? 62 But Jesus, knowing in himself, that his disciples murmured at this, said to them: Doth this scandalize you? 63 If then you shall see the Son of man ascend up where he was before? 64 It is the spirit that quickeneth: the flesh profiteth nothing. The words that I have spoken to you, are spirit and life. 65 But there are some of you that believe not. For Jesus knew from the beginning, who they were that did not believe, and who he was, that would betray him.

[63] "If then you shall see": Christ by mentioning his ascension, by this instance of his power and divinity, would confirm the truth of what he had before asserted; and at the same time correct their gross apprehension of eating his flesh, and drinking his blood, in a vulgar and carnal manner, by letting them know he should take his whole body living with him to heaven; and consequently not suffer it to be as they supposed, divided, mangled, and consumed upon earth.

[64] "The flesh profiteth nothing": Dead flesh separated from the spirit, in the gross manner they supposed they were to eat his flesh, would profit nothing. Neither doth man's flesh, that is to say, man's natural and carnal apprehension, (which refuses to be subject to the spirit, and words of Christ,) profit any thing. But it would be the height of blasphemy, to say the living flesh of Christ (which we receive in the blessed sacrament, with his spirit, that is, with his soul and divinity) profiteth nothing. For if Christ's flesh had profited us nothing, he would never have taken flesh for us, nor died in the flesh for us.

[64] "Are spirit and life": By proposing to you a heavenly sacrament, in which you shall receive, in a wonderful manner, spirit, grace, and life, in its very fountain.

66 And he said: Therefore did I say to you, that no man can come to me, unless it be given him by my Father. 67 After this many of his disciples went back; and walked no more with him. 68 Then Jesus said to the twelve: Will you also go away? 69 And Simon Peter answered him: Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life. 70 And we have believed and have known, that thou art the Christ, the Son of God.

71 Jesus answered them: Have not I chosen you twelve; and one of you is a devil? 72 Now he meant Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon: for this same was about to betray him, whereas he was one of the twelve.

The time when Jesus asked the disciples if they will leave Him and then Peter is like, "where would we go" lives rent free in my head and everytime I think about leaving the faith this verse keeps me here

#jesus christ #saint peter #simon peter #holy eucharist #bread of life #transubstantiation #douay rheims bible #holy scripture #holy bible #catholic #faith #catholic church

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stylesispunk · 4 months ago

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Blind faith | part ii

priest! Joel miller x night club dancer!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter |

summary: Priest Joel feels a strong need to get to know you better and help you, soon he would end up finding out more of you than he thought.

wc: 8,4k (i think)

warnings: age gap (joel is in his late 40s and reader last 20s), angst, fluff, mutual pining, women being misogynist towards reader, forbidden relationship. All topics will be addressed with all the respect.

a/n: The picture of him smoking was for a scene when reader finds him smoking, hidden behind the church but i forgot to write it I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter, I've had a thousand of intrusive thoughts and no time to think. I hope you like this one and how is being built. Reblogs and comments are really appreciated. Happy reading! 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

In the warm sunny spring of May when the night met the dark and lights reflected on the streets bustled with kids playing and families enjoyed meals. Joel was thinking about you. The cold had been replaced by the warmth irradiating from your smiled when you passed by, the way you spoke to him.

The cold had left him on May 3rd, the night you walked into town with the kind of presence that made people take a second look without knowing why. Since then, things had shifted in ways Joel hadn’t expected.

He felt it now, watching the world outside from the steps of the church. The night was warm, carrying the scent of fresh bread from the bakery down the street. Laughter echoed as children played in the dim glow of streetlights, their voices mixing with the low murmur of families gathered at restaurants.

But Joel wasn’t thinking about any of them. He was thinking about you.

Again, and again.

He caught himself doing that more than he should. Thinking about the way your smile softened the sharp edges of this town. The way you spoke to him—teasing, light, but never unkind. You had a way of making silence feel like something shared instead of something empty.

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let his mind wander to you the way it did. Shouldn’t let himself anticipate the moment he’d see you again, even if it was just in passing.

But it was too late for that, wasn’t it?

Because two weeks had passed, and somewhere along the way, he had stopped feeling cold.

Joel stepped out of the Langdons’ house, nodding his thanks as Mrs. Langdon insisted, as always, that he take some leftovers home. He tucked the small bundle of bread and stew under his arm, offering her husband a firm handshake before stepping out into the warm May night.

Every Friday was the same—dinner at the Langdons'. Their children had all gone off to college, and the quiet of their home had settled into something heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was duty or habit that kept him coming back, but he knew what loneliness looked like, and he could never turn away from it.

The streets were lively tonight. Laughter spilled from open windows, the scent of grilled meat from the food stalls blending with the floral perfume of spring. Joel walked the familiar path home, nodding at those who greeted him. He offered quiet blessings to the older folks who still stopped to ask for them, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as he always did.

Then he reached The Paradise.

Joel never lingered near that place. The club sat at the edge of town like it had been dropped there by mistake, neon lights flickering against the darkened street. Tonight, it was more crowded than he’d ever seen. People lined up outside, men and women laughing, their faces half-lit by the pink glow of the sign above the door.

He tried not to judge. He really tried. But that place—it didn’t belong here. Not in a town where everything else was measured and quiet, where folks prided themselves on tradition. And yet, it stood, thriving in the shadows of the life he knew.

Joel kept walking, pushing it from his mind.

Then he thought about you.

You hadn’t come by the church in three days. He told himself it wasn’t strange. You were new in town, surely busy settling in. Maybe you had no reason to stop by.

But the thought sat heavy in his chest. Where were you now? Were you sleeping well? Joel shook his head. No. It wasn’t his place to wonder. It wasn’t his place to care.

And yet, as he turned onto his street, the question lingered in his head.

At Sunday, Joel stood in the pulpit, his voice echoing through the church with measure in his words. The warmth sunlight filtered through the glass windows, painting soft color along the wooden benches where people sat on. It was a beautiful morning, the church was full of families gathering, elders sitting in their usual spot, and children sitting beside their parents.

His preaching was about peace, about opening their hearts to love, forgiveness, to the unexpected kindness the world could offer to us when we pay attention.

"And sometimes," Joel preached, his gaze sweeping over the congregation, and people "beautiful things come when we least expect them. When we stop fighting, when we stop closing ourselves off… we find grace in the most unlikely places, like sunlight bathing our faces in a cold a day."

He had meant it as a general message, something for people to take home, to reflect on. But the moment the words left his lips; his breath came in short.

The moment you walked in.

The church doors let in a slant of golden morning light, and in the middle of it, there you were. It was almost cruel, the way you looked in that moment, how you fitted to his own words, like the light itself had been waiting to land on your skin. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening against the pulpit.

You scanned the room, looking for a seat, completely unaware of the way his entire body had gone still. When you finally settled in a pew at the back, he forced himself to swallow, to look away, to breathe.

The sight of you, bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun, framed by the high arch of the

Joel took a slow breath.

Joel had led countless sermons before, stood in front of his congregation so many times he could do it with his eyes closed. But now? Now, every word felt like it was meant for you.

“Beautiful things,” he said, his voice quieter now, rougher, “they come when you least expect them. They show up in places you never thought to look. And sometimes… sometimes, they scare us. Because letting them in means changing something in ourselves.”

Your eyes met his. Joel’s grip on the pulpit tightened.

You held his gaze, unmoving, unblinking, like you knew, like you could hear what he wasn’t saying.

He exhaled slowly.

“And when they come,” he murmured, the weight of you pressing against his chest from across the room, “it’s up to us whether we let them stay.”

The room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of people’s steps, the quiet shifting of bodies in the pews. But Joel only saw you.

Your lips parted slightly, your fingers clutching at the hem of your dress, and the air between you felt charged, thick with something unsaid. His heart slammed against his ribs, and he knew, he knew, you understood what he meant.

He forced himself to finish the sermon, though the words blurred together, though his mouth felt dry. When it was over, he lingered longer than usual, shaking hands, nodding along to pleasantries, but his mind was elsewhere. It was on you.

Who was there, standing by the door, waiting.

He gathered all his courage, to go and find you outside, standing near the side of the church, your arms wrapped around yourself, as if bracing against the warmth of the sun. You didn’t look at him right away, but when you did, your expression was kind.

“That was a nice sermon,” you murmured when he stood, I front of you.

Joel huffed out something like a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You think so?”

You nodded, but your gaze was unreadable, cutting through him in a way that made his stomach tighten. “I think you were talking about me.”

He swallowed. “Maybe.”

You let out a breath, slow and measured, before stepping closer, close enough that he could see the gold flecks in your eyes, close enough that he caught the faintest hint of something sweet on your skin.

“Thank you, for trying to be kind and spread it” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Joel searched your face, his jaw tightening, like he was fighting something within himself. The way you looked at him, it made him uneasy, like you could see right through him. Like you could see the way he was holding himself back.

He exhaled sharply, glancing around to make sure no one was lingering before lowering his voice. “Do you wanna talk?”

Your brows lifted slightly, like you hadn’t expected it.

“Talk?” you repeated, almost testing the word, rolling it over your tongue.

Joel shifted on his feet. “Yeah. If you want.”

You hesitated, but only for a moment before nodding, laughing a bit “I actually came here to talk to you. I’m just nervous about people on here.”

“Why?” He asked

“I don’t belong here and I can feel it.”

“You belong where I am as long as you need” He reassured, looking at you with the kindness you were craving for weeks.

“Thank you, father.” you replied, smiling shyly at him.

“Do you want to come inside?”

You nodded.

Joel signaled towards the door, letting you step inside first. The church was quiet now, emptied of its congregation, save for the lingering scent of incense and the dim glow of candles flickering near the altar.

You walked slowly down the aisle, your footsteps echoing in the vast space. The glass windows painted soft colors onto the worn pews that you hadn’t noticed before, casting patterns of blues and golds across the floor.

Joel watched as you moved, your fingers ghosting over the smooth wood of the benches, your gaze lifting toward the high ceiling. There was something in your expression, something lost, something looking for an answer.

“Have you ever prayed before?” he asked, his voice quiet in the stillness.

You turned slightly, your eyes meeting his. “I haven’t. Not in a long time, at least.”

He nodded, stepping closer, his presence warm, grounding. “You don’t have to do it now if you don’t want to.”

You exhaled softly, looking away. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

Joel tilted his head. “Then don’t say anything.”

You swallowed, pressing your lips together, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto a pew, your hands clasped in your lap. Joel sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth but not touching.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

“Are you gonna tell me why you ended up here?” He asked.

You stiffed slightly, “I can’t tell you that.”

Joel studied you for a moment, his gaze steady but unreadable. He didn’t push; didn’t press for answers you weren’t ready to give. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, leaning back slightly against the pew.

"Alright," he murmured. "I won’t ask."

You turned your head toward him, surprised by his easy acceptance. You had been waiting for more questions, for suspicion, for doubt. Instead, you were met with something else entirely, understanding.

"You’re not curious?" you asked, voice quieter now.

Joel’s fingers drummed lightly against his knee before he sighed. "‘Course I am. But if you ain’t ready, you ain’t ready."

You swallowed hard, glancing down at your hands. No one had ever let you keep your secrets without demanding something in return.

For a moment, the only sound in the church was the faint crackle of the candles burning near the altar.

Then, hesitantly, you spoke. "It’s not that I don’t want to tell you."

Joel turned his head slightly, waiting.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. "It’s just… if I say it out loud, it makes it real and I don’t want you to be tangled in my mess, you don’t deserve it."

Joel’s jaw clenched, something flickering in his expression. His voice was lower when he finally answered, rough around the edges.

"It’s already real, darling."

Your breath caught. It has been a really long time since someone had called you “Darling” and the way the nickname had come out his lips made it feel softer, more real.

You turned to face him fully now, heart pounding just a little too hard in your chest. "Father…"

He held your gaze, and for the first time since you had met, he looked like he was fighting something strong, something he wasn’t sure he should want.

And then, just as quickly as the moment came, he looked away.

"You are not gonna tell me, ”He murmured. "Just know that if you ever do… I’ll listen."

Your throat tightened, the warmth in your chest warring with the fear still tangled around your ribs.

"Okay, thank you" you whispered.

And for now, that was enough.

Joel hesitated only for a second before he reached out, offering you his hand.

You stared at it, his rough, calloused fingers, inviting you to hold it. For a moment, you didn’t move. Then, slowly, you placed your hand in his.

Warm. Solid. Protective.

Your fingers curled slightly around his, and Joel squeezed, just once, gentle and grounding, like he was telling you that he meant what he said. That he’d listen, that he’d be there.

The weight in your chest didn’t feel so heavy anymore. You felt light as a feather, and safe.

But then, the sound of the church doors creaking open shattered the moment.

Joel let go of your hand instantly, straightening, his expression shifting into something unreadable as footsteps echoed down the aisle.

A woman dressed in a modest blue dress, dark hair pinned neatly back, and the look in her eyes as she saw you sent a chill down your spine.

Her gaze flicked between you and Joel before she spoke, her voice tight. "Father Miller."

You recognized her. You’d seen her in town before, always watching, always whispering with the others when you passed.

Joel stiffened beside you. "Miss Elizabeth."

She barely acknowledged him before turning her sharp gaze to you. "You should go; I want to talk to the father privately. " she said flatly.

Something hot curled in your stomach, shame and sadness hitting at once.

"I was just leaving," you bit out, standing. You didn’t look at Joel as you stepped past him, willing your face to stay unreadable, unwilling to let this woman see how easily she could cut you down.

But just as you reached the door, you heard her voice again.

"You shouldn’t let her stay around you, Father," Evelyn said, her tone full of quiet disapproval. "She’s a bad influence."

Your breath hitched. You pushed the church doors open, stepping into the cool evening air. Your breath was unsteady, your pulse thrumming with anger, with hurt. You shouldn’t have let it get to you. You knew what people thought, what they whispered when they saw you. But hearing it out loud, hearing it in his presence, it stung more than you wanted to admit.

You didn’t know why, but what the priest thought about you was important.

Inside the church, Evelyn watched you go, her lips pressed into a thin line before she turned back to Joel.

Joel exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. "That so?" he pressed.

Evelyn nodded, stepping closer. "We all see it. You see it too. She doesn’t belong here. She is sin."

Joel’s fingers curled against the wooden pew. His shoulders were tense, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he considered his next words.

"Think that’s for me to decide," he said, his voice steady, but there was anger beneath it. “You cannot come to a church and preach bad things about someone. That’s sin.”

Evelyn scoffed, unimpressed. "I only hope you don’t regret it."

“What?”

“When she ruined the reputation, you hold on this place.” She warned.

Joel didn’t answer. He just watched the space you had left, sitting as a void on his heart.

“I have no reputation to keep on. I’m simply a priest, I offer help and guidance to people, so if you came here to spread bad words on someone, I would kindly ask you to leave.”

Evelyn’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m only looking out for you, Father. And for this town.”

Joel’s jaw tensed, his patience wearing thin. “You look out for yourself, Evelyn. I’ll look after the people who need it.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “People talk, Joel. They see the way you look at her.”

His chest tightened. “Then they should mind their own business.”

Evelyn’s mouth parted slightly, as if she wasn’t expecting him to be so blunt. But she recovered quickly, straightening her spine. “Suit yourself,” she muttered before turning on her heel and striding out of the church.

The heavy doors groaned as they shut behind her, leaving Joel in silence. But he didn’t feel peaceful. He felt rage.

His fists curled against his sides, his pulse still thrumming from the conversation, from the way Evelyn had spat those words like they were undeniable truths. Like he didn’t know what was best for himself.

And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to know it.

Joel exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face, cursing. He couldn’t let you to carry the whispers alone.

Later, at night you were nursing a cup of tea, trying to erase the memories and the twisting feeling inside your stomach. The truth was that you weren’t used to this, to be point out all the time or to receive glance and stares as if you were a witch waiting to be eliminated.

Without even wanting, your mind drifted to the priest, Joel. To his kindness, to his scent, or the warmth touch of his hands fitting yours. You smiled a bit at the memory, not even knowing why it was so special.

You noticed Carmen adjusting her dress in the small mirror by the door, smoothing the fabric over her hips before reaching for her earrings. The dim light of the house cast shadows on the walls, the air full with the scent of her perfume.

“You know,” she mused, glancing at you with a smirk, “ever since you got here, the club’s been busier.”

You looked up from where you sat on the worn-out couch, your arms wrapped around your knees. “What do you mean?”

Carmen chuckled, slipping her earrings on. “Men are curious creatures. They see something new, something mysterious, and they can’t help themselves.” She gave you a knowing look. “Some of them come just hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t like that idea at all “I don’t—”

“I’m not saying you did anything.” She waved a hand. “You barely speak to them, barely even look at them. And that’s what makes them even more interested.”

You swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s not a thing I feel proud of.”

Carmen shrugged, grabbing her shawl. “It’s business. And business is good.” She studied you for a moment before softening. “Look, I know you don’t love this place, but you have a way of drawing people in, chiquita.”

You exhaled, rubbing at your arms. “That’s not what I want.”

Carmen sighed, walking over and perching on the arm of the couch beside you. “Then what do you want?”

You hesitated. If you had been asked that question a few weeks ago, the answer would have been simple. You wanted to dance. You wanted to teach. You wanted a quiet, normal life, away from the danger.

Now? Now, you didn’t know.

Carmen must have seen the struggle on your face because she reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to stay here forever, you know.”

You blinked up at her. “Then why does it feel like I do?”

She sighed, squeezing your shoulder before standing up. “Because you haven’t figured out where else you want to be.”

You sat there, watching her drape her shawl over her shoulders, watching as she gave herself one last glance in the mirror before heading toward the door.

“I’ll be back late,” she called over her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have a date!” She told, opening the door, and then she was gone.

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing against your chest. You sat there for a long moment before finally pushing yourself up, grabbing your coat, and stepping out into the fresh night.

You needed air. You needed to think. You need to dismiss the longing feeling settled on your chest.

And before you even realized where your feet had carried you, you were standing at the street corner. You caressed your arms to keep yourself warm form the chilly cold air of the night, as you walked to the public telephone stood at the corner of the street, its metal surface cool against your fingers as you picked up the receiver and fed in the coins with shaking hands.

The dial tone buzzed in your ear, and then—

"Hola?"

Your chest tightened with sadness at the familiar voice. “Mateo,” you breathed.

"Hermana.” (sister) Relief laced his voice. “¿Dónde has estado? ¿Estás bien? (Where have you been? Are you okay?)

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Lo sé..Yo…” (I know…I-) You hesitated, your eyes darting around the empty street. “¿Cómo están las cosas? ¿Cómo está mi mamá y mi papá? (How are things going? How are mom and dad?)

There was silence on the other end, then a heavy sigh. "Preguntando por ti cada día. Están preocupados.” (They ask for you every day. They’re worried about you)

Guilt curled in your stomach. “Estoy bien, te lo juro.” (I swear I’m fine)

"¿Segura?” (Are you sure?) Mateo’s voice was softer now, filled with something you didn’t want to name. "Suenas diferente.” (You sounds different)

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a moment. “Es obvio que lo estoy, mateo.” (That’s obvious, Mateo) Your grip on the phone tightened. “No puedo ir a casa, ¿Cómo crees que me siento?” (I can’t go back home, How do you think that makes me feel?)

Because you had nothing to return to. Because the life you had before was gone.

Mateo sighed "¿Estás Segura que estás bien?" (Are you sure you’re okay?)

“¿Siguen buscándome?” you asked. (Are they still looking for me?)

Silence stretched between you both, thick with things left unsaid. “Vinieron a casa hace unos días” (They came home a few days ago)

Your throat tightened. “¿Encontraron algo?” (Did the find something?)

“No” he replied, “No hay rastro de ti.” (No, there´s no trace of you)

You hesitated before whispering, “Te extraño.” (I miss you)

"Yo también, hermana” (I miss you too, sister)

The line went dead. You stood there for a moment, the receiver still pressed to your ear, as if you could will his voice back. You hang up the phone with force.

“Damn it!”

Joel had been walking back from the church, his mind tangled in thoughts he didn't want to face. The night air was cool against his skin, the quiet hum of the town settling into its usual lull. He didn’t expect to see you.

At least not like this.

He slowed when he caught sight of you by the public telephone, shoulders hunched, one hand still gripping the receiver like you wanted to crush it. Even from a distance, he could tell something was wrong.

Then you hung up the phone, hard, the sound of plastic smacking against metal sharp in the empty street.

“Damn it,” you hissed again, under your breath, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes.

Joel hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. “You alright?”

You startled slightly, turning to look at him, eyes glassy, lips parted as if you wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

Joel took in the sight of you—the way your face was drawn tight, the way your hands trembled at your sides. Something twisted deep in his chest.

“Hey,” he said, softer this time, “what happened?”

You shook your head quickly, taking a step back as if trying to put space between you and the concern in his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Joel’s gaze flickered to the telephone, “Don’t look like nothing.”

You wiped at your eyes, like that could erase the evidence of your tears. “I just—” You swallowed hard, glancing away. “I was talking to my brother.”

Joel frowned, watching the way your jaw tightened, the way your fingers clenched at your sides.

“Do you have a brother?”

You let out a hollow laugh, nodding your head. “Yes,” You exhaled sharply, wrapping your arms around yourself. “He just reminds me how much I miss him and I can’t go back.”

Joel felt something in his chest pull at that.

He took a step closer to you, closing the space between you.

“You are not alone,” he said quietly.

You blinked up at him, your expression unreadable. “I’m pretty much I am”

Joel exhaled, then, without thinking, without second-guessing, he reached out for you.

His fingers brushed over your elbow first, just the faintest touch, before he slid his hand down, wrapping around yours.

You didn’t pull away.

Instead, your fingers tightened around his, just enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, the way you were holding onto him like you weren’t sure if you should—but you needed to.

And maybe he needed to, too.

“Come on” he murmured. “Let’s get you something warm.”

For a moment, you just looked at him in awe, then, slowly, you nodded.

Joel didn’t let go of your hand as he led you away from the phone booth, his grip firm but gentle, like he wasn’t about to let you disappear into the night.

The town was quiet this late, the streets empty except for the occasional glow of a porch light. The fresh night air bit at your skin, but Joel’s warmth beside you made it bearable.

His house wasn’t far. A modest place, tucked behind a small white picket fence, next to the church, the porch light flickering softly. He pushed open the front door, stepping aside to let you in first.

Inside, it smelled like vanilla and something faintly familiar, leather, soap, a trace of coffee lingering in the air. It was tidy but lived-in, books stacked on a side table, a jacket slung over a chair. The kind of place that felt like it had roots.

Joel shut the door behind you, locking it out of habit.

“You sit,” he murmured, nodding toward the couch. “I’ll make you some tea.”

You hesitated for a second before sinking onto the couch, your hands still curled into fists in your lap. You felt exposed. Like if he asked the right question, everything would spill out.

Joel disappeared into the kitchen, and you listened to the quiet clatter of cups, the whistle of the kettle warming up. It was strangely intimate, this moment. Like you belonged here. Like he wanted you here.

He returned after a moment, two mugs in his hands. He passed one to you before lowering himself onto the couch beside you, close but not too close.

“Hope chamomile’s alright,” he said. “Don’t got much else. I have to buy groceries.”

You wrapped your hands around the warmth of the cup, staring down into the steam. “Chamomile’s good.”

Joel hummed, watching you. You could feel his gaze on you, like he was waiting for you to say something.

Instead, you lifted the cup and took a sip. The warmth spread through your chest, soothing the tightness that had been there all night.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?” His voice was gentle, but there was an edge of something else. Something protective.

You exhaled, staring down into your tea. And then, in the quiet of Joel’s home, in the safety of his presence, you whispered—

“I don’t feel like it yet” you said.

Joel didn’t push, just nodded, leaning back against the couch with his own mug in hand. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt steady. Like you didn’t have to fill it with words just to be understood.

The tea warmed your hands, and for the first time in what felt like days, you didn’t feel like you had to keep your guard up.

Joel watched you for a moment, then exhaled softly. “Alright,” he said. “If you change your mind, there’s food in the kitchen.”

You nodded, taking another slow sip.

“You can stay as long as you need,” he added. His voice was softer now, carrying something else beneath it. Something unspoken.

You swallowed. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Joel let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “You’re not.”

Your chest tightened at that. At the quiet conviction in his voice. You glanced at him, finding his gaze already on you, steady and unwavering. You opened your mouth, then closed it, unsure of what you even wanted to say.

Instead, you just nodded again, gripping your mug a little tighter.

Joel didn’t push. He just sat there, sipping his tea, letting the night settle around you both.

Joel took another slow sip of his tea before setting the cup down on the table. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.

“What was it like? When you were a kid?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “Figured it might be nice to talk about something else.”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the warm mug, but then you sighed, letting your shoulders relax just a little.

“I used to climb trees,” you admitted after a moment. “There was this big one near our house. My brother and I would spend hours up there, making up stories, pretending we were somewhere else.” A soft smile tugged at your lips, the memory warming something deep inside you. “My mom used to scold me for coming home with dirt all over my clothes.”

Joel chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Bet you gave her hell.”

You laughed softly. “I did.”

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “And your best memory?”

You thought about it, searching through years of moments before settling on one. “Oh, I remember my dad took me to the ocean once. Just him and me. It was the first time I ever saw it. I remember how endless it felt, how small I was standing next to it.” You swallowed, fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “It was the first time I really felt there was a world beyond my home.”

Joel nodded, like he understood that feeling more than you realized.

“What about you?” you asked. “What was your childhood like?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Simple, I guess. Spent most of it in Texas, running around with my brother. We’d get into all kinds of trouble, nothing too bad, but enough to keep our mom on edge.” A fond look crossed his face. “She worked hard. Did her best to raise us right.”

You tilted your head. “And when did you decide to become a priest?”

Joel exhaled slowly, like he’d been expecting the question but still needed a moment to gather his thoughts. “Took me a long time,” he admitted. “Wasn’t always on this path. But after losing some people I cared about… I guess I needed something to hold onto. Something to believe in.”

You studied him, the flickering candlelight on his center table casting soft shadows over his face. There was something heavy in his voice, a weight he carried that you didn’t dare press into.

You hummed softly, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Sounds like you were looking for some peace.”

Joel glanced at you; his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. I guess I was.”

A comfortable silence settled between you. The warmth of the tea, the dim glow of the room, the safety around Joel’s presence was all too much, too soothing for you. It didn’t take you so much time for your eyelids grew heavier, and before you realized it, your head had dipped onto his shoulder.

Your face was softened in the dim glow of the room, free of the tension that had been clinging to you all night. Your breathing was steady, your lips slightly parted, your lashes resting gently against your cheeks.

Joel swallowed hard. His heart felt heavy with something towards you.

He shouldn’t be looking at you like this. Shouldn’t be feeling the warmth of you against him like it was something sacred, something meant for him. But he couldn’t stop.

Carefully, he shifted, reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. He hesitated, watching the way a strand of hair had fallen over your face, the way your fingers twitched slightly in sleep. Then, with a slow movement, he pulled the blanket over you, tucking it carefully around your shoulders.

Still, he didn’t move away. His eyes traced your features, the soft curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fluttered briefly like you were dreaming. He wondered what kind of dreams you had. If they were peaceful. If they ever brought you the comfort you seemed to be searching for.

Joel exhaled, a long, quiet breath. He knew he should get up. Should put some distance between you. But instead, he stayed and his exhaustion eventually crept in. The steady rhythm of your breathing beside him pulled him under like a tide.

His head tilted slightly, his body instinctively leaning toward yours. His shoulder pressed more firmly against you, the weight of you grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it was deep. Joel didn’t dream of regret, or of things lost.

Instead, he dreamed of warmth. Of something soft, something that smelled faintly sweet. Something that, for the first time in forever, didn’t feel so far out of reach.

The morning came too soon, with light filtering softly through the curtains, making you stir first, shifting slightly, only to realize you were pressed against someone.

Joel.

His arms were wrapped around you, one draped loosely over your waist, the other resting near your shoulder. His breathing was deep and steady, his body relaxed in a way you’d never seen before.

Your heart pounded as you stayed still, unsure of what to do. But the moment stretched too long, and eventually, Joel shifted, a low hum escaping his throat as he woke.

His grip on you tightened instinctively before realization dawned. His breath hitched. Slowly, he pulled back, his arms withdrawing as if burned. His eyes met yours, still heavy with sleep but now filled with something else, something hesitant and vulnerable.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough, laced with something softer beneath.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Morning.”

Neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the warmth that still clung to your skin, of the way Joel was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure if he should apologize or pull you closer or even touch fire.

“I should get going,” you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended.

Joel’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just studied you, like he was trying to memorize something. Then, finally, he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, you should.”

You sat up slowly, letting the blanket slip from your shoulders. The absence of his warmth made the morning chill settle deeper into your bones.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, still watching you. “You—uh—need me to walk you back?”

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine.”

But neither of you moved.

Joel’s fingers tapped against his knee, restless. “Did you sleep, okay?”

You nodded, offering the smallest of smiles. “Yeah. Better than I have in a while.”

Something flickered in his expression, something almost like relief. He exhaled through his nose, then stood, running a hand through his hair. “Good.”

You forced yourself to move, to put distance between you both before you did something reckless. Like staying. Like telling him how safe you felt with him around.

You reached the door, hesitating with your hand on the knob. You glanced back at him, at the way he was still standing there, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You offered a quiet, “See you around, father.”

“Joel” he said, “Just call me by my name.”

You froze for a moment, your hand still on the door, the weight of his words sinking into you. Just call me by my name.

It was simple, but it felt like a shift, like something important was happening without either of you fully understanding it.

You nodded slowly, the softest of smiles curving your lips. “Okay. See you around, Joel.”

His gaze softened, just a little, but you could see the conflict in his eyes, the same conflict that had been there since the first day you'd met. It was like he was trying to find a way to make things simpler, even though neither of you were sure how.

You opened the door, stepping out into the morning, but for a moment, you stood there, just outside, with your back to him. The silence between you stretched, and in the stillness, you almost expected him to call out to you.

But he didn’t.

You swallowed and took a step away, then another. Each step felt heavier than the last. You didn’t want to go. But you knew you had to.

And Joel? How could he even stop thinking about you when you had turned this town technicolor after ages of scarlet rusting maroon. How he could even stop thinking about the way your eyes wrinkled when you smiled, how they shone under the lights, or how you felt against his chest?

You had turned his life upside down the moment he saw you there, sleeping the church pew. You had settled a warm feeling on his chest, stuck there strangling his heart in a way he feared. He hadn’t felt like this before your orbit crashed into his.

Joel sat quietly in the church, his hands clasped in his lap, his gaze fixed on the altar. He couldn’t help but think about you, how you had walked out of his house that morning, and how your absence already felt like a quiet ache in the pit of his chest.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft murmur of voices coming from the entrance. A group of ladies from the town had entered, their soft footsteps echoing in the vast space. They gathered near the back, speaking in low tones. Joel, still lost in his thoughts, didn’t immediately notice them approaching.

One of the women, Evelyn, caught his attention first. Her eyes were sharp, her smile polite but lacking warmth. She was one of the more outspoken people in the town—always quick to comment on matters she found troubling.

“Father Joel,” she called out, her voice cutting through the quiet.

He turned toward them, nodding in greeting. “Good morning, Evelyn. Ladies, How are you today?”

Evelyn gave a tight smile, but there was something in her eyes that made Joel wary. She wasn’t here for a casual conversation.

“We’re doing well, Father. Just came to see you,” she said, her gaze flickering briefly to the side before returning to him. “I heard something troubling... about you spending time with that girl.” Her tone was deliberate, like she wanted to plant a seed of doubt.

Joel’s stomach tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“The new girl in town,” Evelyn continued, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “You know, the one who came in from out of nowhere. We’ve all seen the way she’s been acting, and we’re concerned, Father. You’ve always been such a pillar in this community... we don’t want to see you caught up in anything... inappropriate.”

The words hit him like a cold gust of wind, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he stared at her, his jaw clenched. “She’s a member of this town now,” he said, his voice firm, but controlled. “She’s just as much a part of this community as anyone else, and she deserves kindness and support, just like everyone else.”

Evelyn’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, her voice laced with venom. “Of course, Father. But kindness and support don’t always mean turning a blind eye to things that don’t belong. We just want to make sure you're not... getting too close to someone who might cause trouble for you.”

The group of women exchanged glances, their murmurs growing louder now, but Joel didn’t care. He could feel the sting of their judgment, but he wasn’t about to let it change him. Not today. Not after everything he’d felt in the past few days.

“What do you mean?” He asked, looking at them.

“Do you know the reason why there are so many people going to that club? The paradise?” Evely asked, testing the waters. “It’s her! She dances there, she is seducing men and perhaps women too, who knows?”

Joel's body stiffened at the words, a cold wave of anger sweeping through him, but he kept his face neutral, not allowing them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply their accusations cut. The audacity of the women to come into his sacred space, spreading lies about you.

"That’s a serious accusation," he said, his voice dangerously calm, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at Evelyn. "And it's based on nothing but rumors and gossip."

Evelyn smirked, clearly pleased by the effect her words had. "Rumors? You know as well as we do that the truth isn’t always so clean. She came here from nowhere, and now look—more men are visiting the club than ever before. It's obvious. You might be blind to it, Father, but we're not."

Joel took a deep breath, willing himself to remain composed, but inside, he was seething. He could feel the lies curling around his chest, suffocating him. How dare they accuse you like that, especially when they had no idea what you were going through? He had seen you at your lowest, and not once had he seen any evidence of the things they claimed.

"What you’re saying is based on assumptions," Joel replied evenly. "You don’t know her. You don’t know what she’s been through. And as for what happens in the club, it’s not for any of you to judge." He took a step forward, his voice rising slightly, but still under control. "I will not stand here and listen to these baseless accusations. You know nothing of her, and you certainly know nothing about me."

The women were silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Evelyn’s smile slipped, but she quickly recovered, trying to keep control of the conversation. "We’re just worried, Father. We want what’s best for you. We care about you."

Joel didn’t respond immediately. He couldn’t bring himself to care about their concern when they were so willing to tear down someone he had come to care for. Instead, he stood his ground, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” he said finally, his voice firm. “And I don’t need you to make decisions about who I spend time with. I will not be part of any of this. If you want to continue to talk about people behind their backs, you can do it without me.”

Without waiting for another word, he turned and walked away from them, his footsteps echoing through the church. He didn't look back as he left, the sense of their eyes on his back weighing heavily, but he refused to let it break him.

He didn’t want to believe it.

But the thought lingered on his head the whole day.

So, when the night came and it felt darker than usual, Joel walked through the quiet streets. He had changed into a worn-out jacket and a baseball cap, trying to blend into the shadows, to not be seen. He couldn’t bear the idea of anyone recognizing him, not in a place like this. The rumors had been eating at him all day, and he couldn’t ignore the need to see for himself, to find the truth.

His footsteps were almost silent as he approached the entrance of The Paradise. The neon lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the sidewalk, and the sound of muffled bass and chatter seeped through the walls. As he stepped inside, the dimness hit him first, the low, seductive hum of the music, the scent of alcohol and smoke lingering in the air. The people inside were lost in their own worlds, laughing, shouting, and watching the stage with eager anticipation.

He stood still for a moment, taking in the scene. His heart pounded in his chest, and he swallowed hard. The place was everything he had imagined, and yet it felt so foreign to him. He never thought he would set foot in a club like this, let alone come to watch you perform.

The house lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd. The host’s voice echoed through the speakers presenting the next dancer.

Joel’s breath caught in his throat as the music shifted, slow and sultry. He watched as the spotlight flickered, landing on the stage just in time for you to emerge from the shadows. The crowd erupted into applause, but to Joel, it felt like the world had stopped.

You appeared, standing in the center of the stage, your silhouette framed by the soft red glow of the lights. You were wearing a red lace outfit, the fabric clinging to your body in all the right places. For a moment, Joel couldn’t breathe. The way you moved, the way you owned the space, graceful, mesmerizing, and completely unbothered by the eyes that followed your every step.

The applause from the crowd blurred into background noise as Joel’s gaze locked on you. Every motion you made was fluid, confident, hypnotic. His eyes traced the curve of your body as you moved with a sensuality that made his heart race, his mind spinning. There was something about the way you held yourself, the way you seemed so comfortable in your own skin, that had him entranced.

This was different from the woman he had get to know. This was you, unapologetically owning the stage, every movement a story, every sway of your hips a command. He had never seen you like this before.

Joel’s body tensed as he watched, his heart beating faster than he could keep up with. He tried to remind himself that this wasn’t you, this was just the person you had created, the role you were playing.

The music pulsed through you, guiding your movements as you danced. The crowd's cheers and whistles blended into the background, but all you could focus on was the rhythm of your body and the heat in the air. Every step, every sway was a release, a moment to escape. You had become this character, this untouchable, confident woman who commanded the stage. It was easy to disappear into it.

But then, amidst the sea of faces, your eyes found his.

Joel’s presence felt like a sudden pull, a gravity you hadn’t prepared for. You froze, your body stilling mid-motion as your gaze locked with his. His dark eyes, usually so calm and guarded, were wide with something raw, something you couldn't quite name. The moment seemed to stretch, as if the world around you had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in a charged uncomfortable silence.

For a split second, everything around you was muffled, the music, the applause, the cheering, none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was the look on his face, the way he stood there, frozen, watching you. And the shock in your chest came crashing in, like a wave pulling you under.

Your heart skipped, the rhythm of your dance faltering. Your breath hitched as you felt your skin flush, your mind racing. You hadn’t expected him to be here, not like this. You hadn’t expected him to be watching you, not with that look on his face. And yet, there he was, standing in the darkened corner, his eyes wide, his body rigid, as if he had been caught in a moment he hadn’t anticipated.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. It was as though your body had forgotten how to do anything but stare back at him.

Joel didn’t look away. His eyes didn’t flicker. There was no mask of indifference this time. The look he gave you was so intense, so filled with something, disappointment, perhaps. It made your heart race and your legs feel weak. It was like you had broken through some invisible barrier between you, and for a moment, you weren’t the dancer on stage, you weren’t the woman who hid behind this person. You were just…you. And he could see it.

You blinked, your breath catching. And then, before you could stop yourself, you took a step back, your mind fighting against the weight of the moment. The music swirled around you again, but you couldn’t focus on it anymore. You felt like you were suffocating under the weight of his gaze.

Forcing yourself to continue, you tried to pick up the rhythm, but the fluidity of your movements had disappeared. The grace, the confidence, it was all gone. All that was left was the shock of that moment, the stunned recognition that maybe, just maybe, you had let him in. And he had seen more than you had ever intended.

The music seemed to echo louder now, a backdrop to the chaos in your head. You couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, burning through your every motion.

The song neared its end, and as you finished the routine, you stood still for a moment, your eyes once again locking with his across the room. The crowd erupted in applause, but you didn’t hear it. All you heard was the rapid beat of your own heart and the thoughts racing in your mind.

His heart raced as he turned and walked quickly toward the exit, avoiding the curious glances of the people around him. He pushed the door open to the night air, stepping out into the dimly lit street, his thoughts in a chaotic spiral.

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