"Just clasp your hands together like this.." You watch as Archer demonstrates prayer— you've never prayed before. You thought it was something silly— to thank and ask for forgiveness from something that doesn't exist.

But when Archer did it, it didn't look silly. When he clasped his hands and closed his eyes, the wind would pick up to lightly ruffle his hair, and the seeping dusty sunlight would land gently on his eyelashes.

Archer made prayer look beautiful.

You would often prick up your ears and try to catch his murmurs. But you could never make them out— his soft words and gentle tone, only meant for the god he believes in. His words are not for you to hear.

But you often wish it was.

You wonder how you two even got along— cramped in this small supply closet. You needed a quiet place to rest in school and he needed a quiet place to pray during breaks.

His murmured prayers would often sound like soft noise— lulling you to sleep on this small, makeshift bed. And you never judged him for his devotion either— you think he felt safe to talk about his beliefs with you.

One time, your eyes fluttered open and caught him tracing your face. You thought the moment meant something— especially when he unclasped the necklace around his neck and wrapped it around yours. The cross hanging loosely beside your heart.

Now he kneels before you, his hands on yours— clasping them together.

"I'll teach you." He says, and your heart pounds in anticipation.

He looks at you gently, almost eager. Before closing his eyes. When he leaned towards you, you couldn't help it— you thought it meant something.

You kiss him.

And he melts.

Perhaps if you were a woman, loving you wouldn't be a sin.

Perhaps then, he wouldn't have pulled away, looking as horrified as he did— wiping at his lips in shock.

Perhaps in religion, there is no such thing as a non-believer. There are only either devotees or sinners.

And for tainting one of god's angels—

You are a sinner.