"Please tag your sermons."

It was short. Something I wrote to a tumblr user of all things. The person had a nice blog, filled with things I liked. Skeleton memes were in thick supply onto my dash, but once in a while something non-skeleton-related popped up because of this blog. These things had to do with the church most of the time, so I wrote to the blog in an ask, on anon of course: "Please tag your sermons."

They replied with, "lol, why?"

What was I supposed to tell them? That it only felt like a month ago that he had become my translator? Was I supposed to tell them about the preacher's oldest son, the one that went to my school? And, what, how he had volunteered to be my translator so my uncultured teachers could understand me? When I was called on and signed for the teachers to stick it were the sun didn't shine, he'd answer for me instead, and always correctly, to keep me out of trouble. He was always so annoying - never stopped talking. Mirthful Messiah, how I miss his voice.

Was I supposed to say it only felt like weeks since his sermons about his beliefs and morals had stopped being a nuisance? He worried about me out of his own free will, and I wished I could protect him from the world. He was delicate, kind, uncorrupted.

How about that it felt like days since I had realized I was in love with him? That greaser fuck had been trying to flirt with him, and my rage grew as I sat through it. He didn't reply until the slime ball spoke against me. It was the first time I ever saw him snap at someone. It put out my rage like a poorly built fire in a storm and I realized I was crazy for him.

Maybe how it felt like days since we had eaten the strangest pizza ever together? It was cheese pizza topped with bits of crab. The concoction smelled nasty and tasted almost as bad. I snatched a larger piece of the foul seafood from his plate and stuck it in my mouth. He furrowed his eyebrows and called me rude. I told him to come and get it back. He stared at his lap until slowly, unsure of what he was doing, he leaned in and I pulled him into a kiss. He got his crab.

Am I inclined to tell them how it felt like hours since we had told his father we were dating? It had been a few months and the secret couldn't be kept any longer. His father wasn't surprised in the least. In fact, he thought we had been dating for much longer. It was nice to have his father's blessing instead of having to sneak around and hide all evidence from his family.

Why does it feel like minutes since he embarrassed me? I had convinced him to go to a concert with me, one for a band he secretly liked. Though he had always thought concerts where much to sketchy and "riddled with triggering things" for it to be "morally correct" for him to take part in them, he went with me. When I came to pick him up he wore a jacket with a T-shirt, which was very different from his usual sweater. I shrugged it off until we got to the concert, where he opened up his jacket and shocked me. I had gotten him a novelty gift some time ago for the sole purpose of embarrassing him. It was a T-shirt that said in skeleton type "Bone Me Like You Own Me". Guess what he was wearing as he clung to my arm at the concert? Yes, that exact shirt. His reasoning was, "I do not believe that anyone in in this facility would be triggered by such a saying."

How can it feel like just seconds ago he was moaning my name? He was so beautiful pinned to my bed. His legs were spread wide with me in-between, thrusting. His breathing was stuttered and shaky as he cried out for more, spouting blasphemies of all origins. My name was amongst them and how amazing it sounded! He was so vulnerable and he had chosen to share it with me. His celibacy was tossed away of his own accord because he wanted to be with me. He loved me and I love him. I never wanted to be separated from him, never miss a single moment of his life. I made a vow to myself to never let go of him.

I feel as if when I blinked I was transported from my utopia to a world where nothing was right. When the accident happened, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I remember having to run to the hospital since my car's radiator was destroyed a week prior. When I got to the hospital, his father explained what had happened. His father's words hit me like hot stones - first I was struck, then the wounds sizzled. The car crash had left him in a coma.

It has been one month since then, but it feels like decades. I go to see him in the hospital every other day, but I haven't set foot near his father's church since. His father doesn't blame me. He can't even sleep in his own home without hoping to be woken up by his oldest son going through his morning routine. His father and the youngest of the house have lived in the church to stay away from the morning let-down that has replaced the routine.

I just keep remembering the few years we spent together, my heart ripping in pain, my breath going still, my being going cold. All things of worship, all preaching, every sermon reminds me of him, making me sob grossly.

"They make me remember some unsettling things." I wrote instead as my reply. So simplified, yet it could hold so much meaning. I pressed send, and that's when it finally happened.

His father called.

"Kurloz, get to the hospital! Kankri's awake!"

Hey! This is the author speaking! I'm happier then you can believe possible that you read this little bobble here! Thank you so very much! If I get good feed back I might make a multiple chapter fic based off this one shot!

Special thanks to my bud Rika for being a wicked editor! Find her at So-very-clever at tumblr.

All reviews will be cherished and I hope you all have a wonderful evening!