Grieving for Night

The night felt colder on his skin, leaving gooseflesh with its touch, as he stepped in careful line with the pavement. He made sure never to leave the streetlights, never to stare too openly into the dark.

After Father Oleander’s death, Blush felt his world shift in ways he couldn’t control and even alone, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had become a priest to celebrate the demons like his caretaker, to help succubuns and all others with their vices: to give up shame. Now, he was stuck in spiraling thoughts of why anyone would hurt the members of the Church.

Why had they taken all of these lives to even begin with? The streets of the burrows have always been painted in red, but those were droplets: now it poured in like flood. No one was safe.

Blush couldn’t help himself, with guilt he wished it had been someone less important than Father Oleander. Maybe even himself, a simple priest in comparison and a man that death would never have changed everything in a night. He may not have always agreed with Oleander’s methods, there was no one the priest trusted with the Church more. Mercy would take control, there was no doubt, but their actions suggested so much more, especially when they dipped into collection when they thought no one noticed.

He gripped the can of pepper spray in his hand, his eyes squeezing shut as he stopped under the glow of a storefront’s lights. This was too much; this would always be too much until the murderer had been caught. “Fuck.”

His eyes watered, but not a single tear would fall. His faith was shaken, between envious succubuns and cherubuns, how much more will he have to fight with himself over? How much time has to pass for this pain in his chest to leave him? If the man that praised the demons the highest lost his life, what did that mean for the rest of them?

“Fuck!” He yelled into an empty night, his hand pulling at his hair with a painful grip. “I hated him, didn’t I? I hated that carefree attitude and that lecherous smile.” He laughed a hollow sound, “So why does it hurt? I barely knew him.”

But wasn’t it Oleander’s sermon that convinced him to become a priest? When he felt lost, sitting in the pews that awfully rainy day, listening to a succubun that would change his life. Had that powerful voice not found him, had it not started that longing to help others that struggled like him. Would he have ever become a priest?

He shook his head, muttering to himself, “Now is not the time, Blush, all you’re doing is sticking to the light with a tiny can of pepper spray. What are you doing? Patron will be worried.”

He needed better self-defense than this, he couldn’t protect himself with so little and it was almost insane of him to walk alone like this. Why did grief make him foolish?

Blush flinched when he heard a rustling in a nearby alley, his heart beating against his chest. He didn’t think, before he took off running.
Maybe it was just a curious imp or a drunk succubun, but he couldn’t take the chance, not when he had a lot more life to live. Not when his beloved Patron was sickly and needed someone to hold him at night.

His tears finally broke free. “What the hell am I doing?!” How could he be so reckless? He wasn’t alone in this world; he couldn’t dare risk his life because he was sad. “My Patron, forgive me.” He wept in broken sobs as his hooves skittered against the concrete, he didn’t want the love of his life to grief for him.
When he got home, Blush would make plans. He would walk home with one of his friends from now on, he would carry a better weapon, he would never give anyone any reason to worry over him.

Eventually he slowed twenty feet from his apartment building, his chest heaving as he panted. Everything felt so real when he was afraid, not even the sight of his neighbors talking on the terrace above him was a comfort. Their words are a mixture of work and the recent disappearances.

He just wanted to go inside and hide under his blankets until Patron was home from the bar, no he just wanted to kiss his boyfriend’s skin until everything bad disappeared from his sight. He didn’t know what might happen next, but he needed to get himself back under control.

And when he goes to the Church tomorrow, as he stands in the spotlight and hides his fears from his parishioners, he will remain the priest they trust in times of hardship. He will protect himself for the ones he loved.

He has no choice.