qsychopomp
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He repeats it a few times, scratches his neck, slaps himself again, and then falls into his bed. He groans at the way it bothers his bruised ribs, but he lays there in the pain, letting it cleanse him from his thoughts earlier.
Here, in the haze of his pain, he is whole, normal, pure. He is repenting, paying his dues, accepting his punishment. He doesn’t need his pa for that, he can do it himself, make sure he’s not some dirty gay.
Gary hasn’t believed in God in a very long time; in fact, he’s certain there isn’t one. But there has to be some truths in the world, and this has to be one of them.
Gary Barkovitch is normal. And if he isn’t, he’ll break himself until his bones set right.
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OR - All Gary Barkovitch's life, he has been the starving mutt wandering the edge of the street light, baring his teeth at any approaching person. Maybe, now in Maine, he can learn to lower his hackles and let people in.Series
- Part 1 of aijad-verse