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Vincent had seen the way Thomas moved. It wasn’t quite a limp, but with an invisible weight and a slight trepidation with every step he took. Thomas would card his hands through Vincent’s hair, cupping the tired wrinkles of his cheeks, a flicker of a smile flashing across his face.
But when Vincent would reach back to return the favor, he was met with an instinctive flinch. Immediately, Thomas would look up at him in shame, forcing himself to relax and muttering an apology under his breath. Vincent only needed this one incident to know that touching Thomas was off limits. It was only until Thomas requested and allowed the contact himself that Vincent could indulge.
Vincent was a patient man. He could wait however long Thomas needed, and would have no problem doing so. It was one of the many ways they had expressed their silent love towards one another. Patience, forgiveness, wholehearted devotion. And Vincent would wait forever if he had to, until one day he found himself at a standstill, unable to do anything but to break that promise himself.
Thomas stood over the bathroom sink, arms gripping the edges of the porcelain basin and as he shook all over. His arms, never shown and always covered, trembled like a leaf. Unlike Vincent, Thomas never wore any short clothing. Where Vincent would frequently roll his sleeves to bury the dead and wash vegetables with children, Thomas would occupy himself with less menial work. This time however, Vincent noticed how Thomas’ face scrunched up in pain, so much so he was sweating, and with the way his arms were about to collapse, Vincent knew he had to step in and support him.
Vincent approached Thomas and watched his expression closely, waiting for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he swept him into his arms gently, lightly taking Thomas’ arms with his hands and stopped when he was met with a hiss of pain.
“Thomas, tell me what is wrong.”
Vincent looked into his eyes in earnest, waiting attentively for anything Thomas felt comfortable with giving him in that moment. Thomas only shivered harder, but steeled himself for just a minute. Vincent’s heart ached terribly at the sight, he knew how hard Thomas was keeping himself together for Vincent, he knew that when he suffered, the hardest thing was to entrust his pain with someone else. Vincent treasured this gesture greatly and never took it for granted. On the rare occasion that Thomas did share his suffering, Vincent felt like kneeling before him with relief.
Without another word, Thomas took a breath. He pinched his sleeve between his fingers and lifted, revealing a shocking array of textures and shades that slashed all across his wrist and forearm. Thomas’ thumb rested between the groove of one of his scars, and Vincent could only imagine the story that came with each one. Some resembled a raised terrain, whereas others cut a deep cavern that hugged the veins beneath his skin just so. It wasn’t hard to predict the reason they came to exist.
“Has this been causing you pain, Thomas?”
He nodded.
“Is it the phantom pain, or the part of you that comes with it?”
Thomas processed those words for a moment, then nodded slightly. It was both.
Vincent wanted nothing more than to reach out and trace the scars himself, to map out its history and listen to the stories Thomas had secured in his heart, but he knew better than to lay a hand on him at this moment. Vincent tore his gaze away from his arm and looked up to catch Thomas’ gaze, one that darted away just as quickly. Vincent felt his heart melt.
“There is no need to be ashamed, Thomas. You are resilient as ever, capable and kind, the exact reasons why God has brought me to you.” A faint flush blossomed across Thomas’ ears and cheeks, his mouth flickered for a moment, but he was at a loss for words. Vincent had to suppress the urge to hold him.
“What would you like me to do for you now?”
Thomas fidgeted a bit before answering, “Actually I’ve been thinking…”
He launched into an explanation about how his body has been in great pain for as long as he could remember, and that these flareups only worsened with age. It seemed Thomas wanted to divulge more, but stopped himself halfway. Vincent knew Thomas was in a vulnerable position and didn’t want to push him any further, so he carefully listened to the things Thomas wanted to share with him, and moved on to address more urgent matters.
“I have some adhesive cream that will help with the itching and scarring, would you be alright if I were to apply it for you, to lessen the discomfort?”
“No it’s alright, I can apply it myself–-”
“You are shaking, dear. It is of no effort on my part, and it would be a great comfort to tend to your pain, as well as to spend time with you, no matter the circumstances.” Vincent’s face softened like the crescent moon, speaking that last sentence. He truly means it with all his heart.
Thomas could do nothing but surrender to the sincerity Vincent so often embraces him with. It is as if every interaction with this man was an expedition to a foreign nebula. It was exhilarating, strange, all encompassing, nerve wracking and incomprehensible all at once. How could such an angelic being come to love a worthless bastard like himself?
Shakily, Thomas agreed, “Alright, okay.”
Vincent gave him a small, private smile before stepping away and walking out the room to fetch some healing cream. It was the same smile he had reserved for just the two of them, a smile he often expressed in shared glances across the room, in hushed whispers within the church, in hallways when they had unexpectedly caught each other.
And just like that, one casual, ordinary and effortless action was enough to snap Thomas out of whatever catatonic state he had been in for the entire day. The wistful curve of Vincent’s lips, his soft expression and patient gaze even when Thomas failed to share his feelings with this man, when he failed to give him an explanation he so very much deserved, all of it had subconsciously eased his anxieties until he was able to release them all in one breath. Thomas leaned against the bathroom wall, his knees buckling as he sank towards the floor, closing his eyes as a bout of dizziness and lethargy suddenly crawled throughout his body.
He laid like that for a short while until a shadow fell over him, and he squinted up to meet an innocent gaze peering down at him affectionately. With languid movements, Vincent laid the bottles he had brought on the floor before joining him on the ground and leaning forward. Unhurriedly, Vincent uncapped the ointment and dabbed it in a swab of cotton, before gently rolling Thomas’ sleeve up and softly patting a swab across his angry skin.
To Vincent, due to his lifetime of experience in war-torn countries, he could recognize that these wounds were years old and not recent. He looked up and watched Thomas, entranced by the way the other man followed Vincent’s gentle caresses; his face tranquil, conflicted, trusting and guilty all at once.
Vincent paused, wondering how to word his next thoughts. Thomas beat him to it.
“The last one was about a year ago I believe. It waxes and wanes, in my adolescence it was at its worst, now I barely have the strength to bring myself to act.”
Vincent lifted the swab away, silently admiring the way Thomas’ abraised skin glimmered in the light.
“And what about now, do you feel it is easier, or more difficult with the lack of strength?”
Thomas dragged his eyes in a monumental effort to meet his gaze, his eyes a deep pool of sadness and unsaid burdens. This was a man that has long grown tired of torturing himself. He prays for any kind of absolution.
“I don’t really know anymore.”
Vincent’s expression softens in understanding. He lowers his gaze to their hands, asking silently if he could hold them. Thomas nods yes. Vincent takes their hands together, brings them to his lips, and murmurs a soft prayer into them.
It is this genuine, forgiving gesture that clenches something within Thomas. Suddenly he wants to embrace Vincent with all his strength. All his life Thomas could never stop doubting, hating and belittling himself. His existence could only be defined as a before and after Vincent, whose innocence has taught him that hate and love coincided with each other.
He knew idolatry was a sin, but who could resist the temptation to worship Vincent everyday of their life? Thomas knew this was wrong, and the more he admired and idolized Vincent, the more estranged their relationship grew. Thomas would internalize every fault he had committed and compare it to Vincent. If Vincent were here he would handle this with ease, if I were Vincent this person would have found absolution already, but here I am speechless and incapable.
“Vincent, my God.” Thomas would think, but like God, Vincent seemed to know his thoughts without even having to verbalize them. It was wrong, not only to God but to Vincent, who would only feel more isolated from the few people he holds close to his heart. It is this worship and praise that further isolated him from the people he wished to help. Vincent knew how to take care of others, but no one was there to know how to look after him, to put him to bed, to eat properly, to discuss his struggles with prayer.
Thomas could only balk at his own behavior, defeat and guilt set in his eyes. He could only take and take from this angel of a man. Helplessly, devotedly, like a disease.
“You look different when I am bandaging you.”
Thomas was startled out of his self loathing like a half-drowned man. He had nowhere to look but Vincent, and narrowly suppressed the urge to cry.
“I consider it a miracle that you remain by my side, Vincent. I wish to change that.”
A frown set in Vincent’s brow, “Why would you deem that necessary, Thomas? You are not a burden for me to carry. I exist to be in service for you, just as you would not hesitate to be in service of me.”
“But that is where we are different, Vincent. I am someone who can’t help but demand that of you constantly, I take and cannot possibly imagine giving the same back to you.” He took Vincent's hands in his and gripped their fingers tightly, knowing that this man could not lie to him. “Tell me, do you really feel that we are equals?”
Thomas knew this was going down a slippery slope, but he couldn’t help himself. As if possessed, he felt that sinful disease in his heart consume him. It demanded any sort of reconciliation and forgiveness, even if he was not worthy of it.
“Thomas,” Vincent’s tone was firm yet delicate, “You and I are more alike than you know. I see myself in all of you, so much so that it frightens me.”
Suddenly he moved to grip Thomas’ arms, the action alerting them both.
“I doubt myself with God and my actions all the time. My worries parallel yours, the guilt I feel resembles what you feel, when I speak with you I feel there is someone I can genuinely relate to. You remind me that I am not so alone when navigating the oceans of faith. Your presence brings clarity to my thoughts and actions, just as mine does for you.”
Vincent’s hands never let go of Thomas’ arms. Although firm, his grip was never suffocating or reprimanding, and the warmth from his palms did more to ease his pain than any balm ever could.
“It is true you have a tendency to uphold me with excessive grace, but I would be a hypocrite to say that I do not appreciate it. Any praise from you means more to me than you will ever know. In this ever-changing world you are the most absolute and natural thing that has ever occurred to me.”
Thomas paused for a moment, “God would deem us sinners, then.”
“We were born into it, Thomas.”
Vincent would not lie, but in this moment, seeing Thomas so cornered—helpless and reliant on him—made his heart skip a beat. This was something he will have to confess at the confessional as well, he thinks.
“We can strive all we want to be like the Lord, to resemble him in all his teachings, but that is the difference between God and humanity. God is an ideal, a concept we must constantly reiterate and challenge ourselves to reach. It is within humanity where you may admire and strive to be just like someone else, if not better. This is the connection every child of God craves and cannot live without. It is true that God is a necessity. However, without true human relationships we cannot implement the teachings God has bestowed upon us, we cannot converse with God in a humble and sincere manner, it would only be deceiving ourselves. We need each other to share our troubles in sin and prayer, to lift one another and support each other. God is in the environment and every living being, but most importantly, his true message can only be found beating alongside those you hold dear.”
Thomas grew silent, his fingers fidgeting with each other. He seemed to be simultaneously processing all that Vincent had told him and focusing on some other thought entirely. The more the silence grew the more agitated Thomas became. Soon, Vincent deemed that the tension was beginning to eat at Thomas and that he would have to intervene. So he began,
“What is it, Thomas?”
“I am sorry, I agree with you Vincent, in many ways we share the same notions, but I cannot find any of those similarities within me. I cannot say the same for myself, I lack the very foundations for that connection and humility. I am pathetic, selfish and depressive. God teaches us that without knowing ourselves, without a firm sense of self, you cannot lend your strength and empathy to others. I deeply despise myself and struggle to see why you would ever spare any attention for me. Maybe I will always be this way, but I cannot afford to accept your generosity. I have taken more than I should, so much so that I see it corrupting you and I. What we are is a sin, and I am the temptation. We have to stop this, Vincent. You and I both know that all lies eventually come to light under God’s gaze. It is dangerous and it is poisoning you. Why can’t you see this? I am a disease to you, Vincent! Reject me for Christ’s sake!”
Thomas began his words quietly and slowly until they eventually lost control. He spoke so quickly it was hard to understand what he was saying. At the last note, with his words echoing across the room, Thomas felt a dissociation within himself. The sentences he had strung were unfamiliar and unrecognizable. He felt away from his body, and what would normally be a tidal wave of immense shame and guilt never reached him because of this disconnect. He stared emptily at the bridge of Vincent’s nose, unable to bring himself to meet his eyes. If he did he would surely return to his body and suffocate.
At this, Vincent let go of his hands, and the loss of contact unwillingly and immediately rushed Thomas’s soul back into his body. A devastating shock rippled through him, but before Thomas could despair any further, a familiar warmth settled down at his side, their thighs and shoulders flushed together.
Of course, Vincent of all people would view aggression and only take it as a sign of a bond growing closer.
Vincent said nothing, he allowed the warmth between them to settle Thomas’s nerves, a brief respite as Thomas took every breath like a choked man, his blood pressure settling and his heart pumping steadily once more. It’s okay, his body told him. It is okay because you are with him, and together you are whole.
Vincent looked towards the abandoned medicine bottles and wrappings that laid by their feet. A memory occurred to him.
“When I was younger I was often a well behaved child. But on the rare occasion I had my lapses in hope and faith. In those moments I would become utterly inconsolable. Believe it or not I would fight my family as though they were my captives, and my parents wouldn’t know what to do.”
Thomas was brought back to his body for a moment. This information thoroughly shocked him. He could never imagine Vincent like that, but he figured in order to be such an endlessly patient man, he had to have some first hand experience in anger and deep suffering. Besides, Vincent was a person just like anyone else. Shame crept up to his throat and Thomas couldn't bring himself to respond. Vincent seemed to catch this and knowingly knocked his foot against the other. There is no need to reply, he seemed to say. Just listen.
“There was an incident so bad once that they had to take me to the hospital. They were desperate and I was afraid. I never had a good experience with healthcare professionals. When the nurse came in I was immediately fearful, but she only bandaged my wounds and left. We will have to wait for the next social worker she told us. As we were waiting my father was with me. I snuck a glance at his expression and it startled me. Despite the visible hurt in his eyes, his features remained calm and forgiving. It was an unreal contrast, one that I will never forget. And it prompted me to ask him, ‘Am I a burden to you and mama?’. My father replied, ‘Your hurt is our hurt, but I believe your struggle against us has externalized your problems and given it a focus. You are no longer eating yourself alive and for that I am glad.’”
Thomas meets his eyes, and an unspoken understanding is communicated between them. He wants to say, are you not tired of constantly enduring? Are you not lonely? Do you not collapse from the fear and exhaustion of uncertainty? He wants to help take care of Vincent and fight alongside him, all while being unable to do the same for himself.
Vincent looks back at him, “There are billions in this world, and we must learn to love each of them, including ourselves.”
Thomas swallows. Vincent has this beautiful way of bringing the grace of the world to you, and through that he personally allows others to find their voice. It is because of this that eventually, Thomas finds the words he was meant to say all this time. He spoke hurriedly, afraid of letting any negative thoughts slip by.
“My family was different, I was the only Catholic between my brother and parents. They never approved of me and we grew estranged later on. Eventually I had begun to develop an adversity to touch, and I had difficulty forming relationships. I found God in search of salvation from this guilt and weakness. I wanted to be rid of it, everything that defined me and my past self, I wanted to be reborn by God’s guidance. It was through this thinking that I fell into a spiral. Even as my faith strengthened everyday, even as I saw myself growing closer to someone worthy of recognition, my body began to fail me, and I soon wanted to be rid of that too. So I began to…”
He vaguely gestured to his arms.
“It did not help, and from there the insurmountable amount of guilt I had hidden from God and my consciousness began to surface. I betrayed God, I had trouble with prayer, forgiveness and acceptance. Even as I became a priest and then a Cardinal, I always believed I was an imposter, a demon in the church that could only be exorcized if not shunned. And I did once, I asked for an exorcism, and nothing came from it. I only continued to feel incorrigible…That was until I met you.”
Thomas turned to look at Vincent, whose gaze was nothing but patient and attentive.
“You taught me so much, I learned through the humanitarian work I did with you that I was capable of change, that I was not unsalvageable and unforgivable.”
Vincent smiled affectionately, hearing this gave him relief.
“But this all began to change recently, when you saw our relationship for what it was, wasn’t it?”
Thomas nodded, “When we grew past the boundaries of good friends, when I felt that what we shared was a sin, and that distanced myself from you, I began to idolize you even more than I did from the start, and I felt more like that creature from the past once again, someone insatiable and unworthy.”
“And all of this has led us to… now, is that correct?.”
“Yes, I am afraid so.”
They looked at each other, sorrow, regret and understanding reflected in their eyes. Vincent wanted to reassure Thomas that he was perfectly capable of all things he wanted to be, that he was loved beyond reason. Thomas looked at him and desperately wished to be a constant presence at his side. The sincerity of this wish rattles him.
“We are somewhat messed up, aren’t we?”
Thomas choked out a laugh.
“It seems so. Our childhoods were riddled with despair.”
Vincent nodded, “Even with the support of my parents, I knew I was abnormal compared to others.”
“So did I, especially in the Curia.”
“They have the tendency to be like a high school for seniors, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, all of whom are dropouts.”
The two laughed silently with each other.
Vincent imagines what Thomas must have felt when hurting himself, as a child all the way until priesthood, and finds that as uncomfortable and painful as it was, especially as he relates to it personally, he has to confront that discomfort and bridge the distance between them. Any isolation and ignorance will only hold them back. Thomas imagines how it must be like to be Vincent, to be so understanding and empathic. He can only imagine how lonely it must be, to bear the weight of everyone’s burdens with God as his only company. Thomas knows that he will have to fight himself everyday in order to truly be there for Vincent, to make sure he is never alone.
“Can I hug you, Thomas?”
And despite all of Thomas’ undesirable traits, his undeserving person and his sins, despite everything he believes in himself, he discards those beliefs for a new religion.
Him and Vincent embrace tightly, and Thomas nearly cries. Love has never been so comforting.