The stale, old-fashioned scent of the cool air inside the Catholic church irritated Junho’s nose. He had never understood what was so special about these rotting buildings or why believers thought they could get closer to that certain god here rather than anywhere else in the world. But it didn’t matter – Junho let himself go along with it. He loved Siwoo dearly and saw that this was truly important to him. He considered it impossible for anyone to convince him of religion’s credibility or that it would somehow make him feel better in his own skin, but if this was what his love wanted, so be it; let’s just get it over with, he thought.

As they entered the empty, almost lifeless space, Siwoo immediately stepped toward the small stone basin near the entrance, dipped his fingers into it, kneeled, and then made the sign of the cross. Junho had to look away to avoid feeling unbearably awkward. He was just about to quietly sit down in one of the back pews when he noticed Siwoo watching his movements with wide eyes.

Junho looked back at him in confusion. "What?"

"You can’t just walk into the Lord’s house like that," Siwoo said to him, standing up straight.

Junho blinked incredulously a few times, but when he realized his partner wasn’t joking, he hesitantly stepped closer to the holy water font. As he dipped his fingers into the liquid, he wondered how people could be so blind as to believe that if a priest mumbled a few words over tap water, it somehow transformed into magical holy water. Intelligent people like Siwoo, how could they…? He shook his head, chasing away the unpleasant thoughts. Quickly, he kneeled and made the sign of the cross, mimicking what he had just seen his lover do. When he stood up, Siwoo smiled at him warmly, and Junho returned the gesture.

Finally, they sat down in one of the last pews of the silent church. For a while, they gazed at the towering, gilded altar before them, the colourful paintings hanging on the walls, and the rays of the setting late-afternoon sun filtering through the stained-glass windows. When Junho grew tired of staring at the eerie, cold objects around them, he turned to Siwoo with a questioning look. He waited for Siwoo to speak, but the other didn’t move an inch. Junho raised an eyebrow.

"Well?"

Siwoo looked at him in surprise. "Well, what?"

"You said you wanted to tell me about the Lord," Junho reminded him, but he was beginning to feel more and more out of place. This whole situation was so foreign, so strange…

"Don’t you feel it?" Siwoo asked, startled.

"Feel what?"

"The presence of God."

At that, Siwoo scanned the room with satisfaction, nodding almost in approval at each motionless statue. Junho couldn’t hold it in – he laughed. Siwoo couldn’t possibly be serious, could he? He couldn’t be this deluded… But Siwoo didn’t laugh. On the contrary, he looked at him with anger.

"What exactly are you laughing at?" he asked, his tone much sharper than it should have been.

Junho’s face darkened in an instant. "Siwoo, you’re joking, right? What are you even talking about? This place is filled with statues and images of a crucified, dying man, and people here claim that some store-brand wine and wafers are his body and blood just because a priest shoves them into their mouths. If there is a god, even he must be laughing at this nonsense."

His partner stared at him for a long time without blinking. The silence was unsettling. Eventually, Siwoo rubbed his temples with agonizing slowness before speaking in a repressed tone.

"Junho," he began deliberately, "do you even know what you’re talking about? You understand nothing about any of this. How dare you say such things?"

"How dare I?" Junho repeated, feeling his eyebrows raising. They had bickered over small things before, and he was usually the one to brush them off, but this was different. He exhaled sharply, ready to argue, but then simply shook his head. This wasn’t worth it. Without another word, he stood up and started walking out.

"Where are you going?" Siwoo called after him.

"Away," he snapped. "Let me know when you’re done with this childish behaviour."

"Childish?" Siwoo scoffed, making Junho halt instantly. "I’m the childish one? You’re rejecting something simply because you don’t understand it. I thought you were smarter than that..."

"Oh, fuck off," Junho gritted his teeth. This was too much. He turned back immediately, stopping just in front of Siwoo, who stared up at him with an arrogant expression, arms crossed expectantly. "Siwoo, you act like you’re smarter than everyone else, so how can you believe in this nonsense? We die, and then what? Nothing! That’s it! That’s what you refuse to understand. Actually – " he hesitated, his voice shaking slightly, "actually, I don’t even care what you believe in. Believe whatever you want, but don’t try to force it on me. That’s it."

He didn’t want to argue. He really, really didn’t want to argue, and he already regretted even speaking. He hoped Siwoo would realize how pointless this was, but instead, Siwoo let out a terrifying grin. Junho’s heart nearly stopped. There was something in Siwoo’s gaze he had never seen before – the icy fire burning in his irises froze Junho to his core.

"You’re a fucking idiot, Junho," Siwoo uttered, his voice carrying the same forced calm he had used earlier when dealing with two annoying guys. He stood up and stepped forward until he had backed Junho into a corner.

As Junho felt the cold wall of the church press against his back through his winter coat, he swallowed hard. He was scared. He couldn’t believe it, but at that moment, he was truly terrified of Siwoo.

"Why would I be an idiot?" he whispered, trying to meet his partner’s ice-cold stare, but he felt his knees tremble.

"You throw around nihilistic phrases without even knowing what nihilism is." Siwoo spat the words. "You just parrot society’s brainless nonsense because, like most people, your petty mind can’t grasp anything beyond this earthly existence. Do you really think this…" he gestured around the church, "is all there is? You’re afraid of what you don’t know, afraid of what you can’t even imagine. Admit it!" His voice didn’t rise, but it was unwavering, powerful.

Junho shook his head, sorrowful. "You’re the one who’s afraid. You’re afraid of death. You’re afraid that nothing comes after," he whispered weakly.

Siwoo didn’t respond. Instead, he suddenly slammed his fist into the church wall so hard that it echoed through the building. Junho flinched violently and, out of pure reflex, kicked Siwoo in the stomach. The boy looked at him in stunned disbelief before realization dawned, and then his face contorted with rage. He grabbed Junho’s delicate shoulders and slammed him against the wall so hard it seemed his bones might shatter. In desperation, Junho clawed at Siwoo’s face, but it was useless – his grip was unrelenting. If anything, the sight of his own bleeding skin seemed to make him even angrier. He was like a rabid animal, Junho thought, and within seconds, he felt Siwoo’s fist crash into his face with brutal force. His body collapsed immediately, and he began choking on the blood filling his mouth. He was dizzy, painfully dizzy, seeing stars.

As Siwoo finally let go, Junho crumpled to the floor, knocking over a small marble statue of the Virgin Mary. The statue shattered upon impact, and Junho watched in horror as Mary’s porcelain head rolled away, splitting in two against a pew.

Tears filled his eyes as he looked up at Siwoo, pleading. The other boy was rigid, shaking with tension, already raising his fist for another strike… until Junho, sobbing, threw his arms around Siwoo’s legs.

"Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry… Please," he begged, his blood-soaked lips trembling.

He braced for another hit, another kick, another burst of rage. But when it never came, he shakily looked up.

Siwoo was crying. Silent, trembling, devastated.