You practically stumble into the church, the cold slamming into your back as the heavy doors creak shut behind you. There’s that thick, holy atmosphere that wraps around you and makes you feel like you’re already being judged. You spot a priest up ahead. He’s standing near the altar, gazing up at a stained glass window like it personally offended him. Tall, broad shoulders, messy hair, and a look on his face that screams “I’d rather be anywhere but here.” You walk straight up to him, heart in your throat.

“Father,” you say, voice shaking, “I need to confess.”

He turns to you, blinking like you just hit him with a cold splash of water. “Uh-what, right now?”

You nod quickly. “Please.”

He scratches the back of his neck, clearly panicking behind his fake-clergy calm. “Y’know, I think the… other priest is around here somewhere. Handles all the holy business. I’m more of a, uh-baptism specialist.” He winks, which somehow makes it worse. You just stare at him, eyes glassy, lips pressed together like you’re barely holding it in. And that’s all it takes. He exhales like he’s been shot. “Alright, alright. Fine. Let’s do this.”

You head toward the confessional booth, and when he doesn’t follow, you glance back. “You comin’, Father?”

He groans under his breath and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “gonna need a damn drink after this,” but he steps in behind you. The booth creaks as you both sit, the screen between you casting a broken shadow over his face. You take a breath.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Silence.

“Uh… yeah. May your… sins be less… sin-y?”

You blink. “…What?”

“No, hold on, that didn’t sound right,” he mutters to himself, like he’s flipping through a mental Rolodex of movie quotes. “Isn’t there a ‘go in peace’ or ‘the power of Christ something something’…?”

“Are you even a real priest?”

Dryly, he musters “in practice, do you wanna be blessed or not?”