Gabriel Harkin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asoncalledgabriel) wrote2018-12-21 10:36 pm
asoncalledgabriel) wrote2018-12-21 10:36 pm
Tidings of Comfort and Joy [Dec 24]
Gabriel is still surprised that Anthony is coming. He'd felt like an idiot for asking him, but he also has his reasons: he knows Anthony is drawn to the aesthetic of the Church, even if he's rejected it in its entirely. And the music was good last year, and he has no reason to imagine that it won't be this year.
The service is the closest thing to a Catholic midnight mass that he's found, and the year before it was surprisingly faithful to traditions that Gabriel is familiar with.
He stands outside the church, hands tucked into the pockets of his black pea coat. It's the nicer of the two winter coats he owns. He's cleaned up for this particular mass: a button down, a tie, his nicest sweater. He'd thought, briefly, of a suit, but it didn't feel right when he'd been getting ready.
He ignores the little flutter he feels at the thought of going into the church. His relationship with his religion remains complicated, but he is finding some relief in exploring the way others have approached spirituality.
The service is the closest thing to a Catholic midnight mass that he's found, and the year before it was surprisingly faithful to traditions that Gabriel is familiar with.
He stands outside the church, hands tucked into the pockets of his black pea coat. It's the nicer of the two winter coats he owns. He's cleaned up for this particular mass: a button down, a tie, his nicest sweater. He'd thought, briefly, of a suit, but it didn't feel right when he'd been getting ready.
He ignores the little flutter he feels at the thought of going into the church. His relationship with his religion remains complicated, but he is finding some relief in exploring the way others have approached spirituality.
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Gabriel shrugs and finally takes a drink from his glass, lingering over it for a moment. He feels like laughing, but he also thinks he'd sound hysterical so he tries to rein in that particular urge.
"Christ," he says with a faint smile. "Sorry, I-- had no intention of getting particularly confessional. I haven't had nearly enough to drink."
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He takes a sip of his drink, thoughtfully silent for a moment. “After all that, I am surprised that you hung on to the church at all.” It is one of those things Anthony still can’t understand about Gabriel. How did he still see something in God and the rest after all that?
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"I still find something beautiful and hopeful in it. And if I can bring myself to believe that God loves me and made no mistake in me, then at least I have that, even if I've no one else."
Maybe it sounds dramatic now, but there had been a time when Gabriel felt so desperately alone in his secrets and in his perceived sins, even in Darrow. Thinking that he might have God's love when he has no one else's is a comfort.
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“Well,” he says quietly, “thank you for bringing me along.” He knows it took a certain kind of courage for Gabriel to ask Anthony into this part of his life. Even if it doesn’t mean the same thing to him, he is honored, in his own very quiet way, that Gabriel has invited him in.
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Gabriel looks down again, but his smile lingers, at least. "I know all the harm it can do. I've read history, and I've seen zealots. My own mother, sometimes. But-- Blake saw beauty in it, somewhere. And I don't want to let go of that. So... thank you for not thinking it some silly exercise."
And even if Anthony did, he certainly hadn't said anything.
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For now he leaves it be.
He gives a shrug and waves his hand. “I would be a poor art historian if I dismissed religion entirely. Make of that what you will.” He offers a wry smile, knowing that there is a contradiction between his beliefs and his passions. How can an atheist remain so attached to art of a decidedly religious bent? Even Anthony doesn’t have an entirely satisfying answer for himself.
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It's something, anyway. He's heard enough people - Protestants in particular - mock and dismiss the pageantry of the Catholic church and it's saints and martyrs, as if they had no saints of their own.
He does wonder if Anthony looks for something in art that he feels he's lost in his own life. Gabriel can't quite bring himself to ask it out loud, not in a bar anyway. Maybe when he's mastered some French, he'll try.
"Besides, I have to imagine Saint Sebastian would make any queer look twice."
Christ, he remembers having unholy thoughts after studying saints in art.
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But this isn’t the time to intellectualize the significance of Christianity on the world, not directly after Christmas midnight mass. Anthony is self-aware enough to stop himself before he does it aloud.
He actually laughs. “I suppose that’s the real reason I spent so much time in the Louvre as a boy.” He smirks, looking conspiratorial.
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He laughs and shakes his head at the memory. It wasn't fair that a dying saint should look so-- that way. He sits up a bit more, feeling better, and nearly finishes his drink.
"And I did promise you, once upon a time, that you might get to hear me sing someday. Hopefully this is a much better impression than seeing me drunk in a bar would've been."
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He downs the last of his drink. “You did promise that. Quite respectable of you, Gabriel Harkin."
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"Respectable, is it? I don't think I've been respectable in months," he quips, looking terribly amused. "I'll have to find some shred of it before classes start, I suppose."
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"Only for the loss of it in private spaces." Gabriel can't quite smother his smile, so he stops trying. "Christ, I'll have to muster the dignity of a saint for that."
There is part of him that worries about his ability to concentrate with Anthony at the front of a classroom, but he thinks he can manage. He is, at least, genuinely interested in trying another language. That he is learning it from Anthony might just guarantee that he doesn't fall asleep or day dream.