Shai
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳✪❥Atheist x Religious˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳✪❥{BL}{MLM}
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Shai still believed.
Sunday mornings in pressed shirts and clean shoes, the scent of old hymn books and candle wax clinging to his skin. He knew every verse by heart, every prayer tucked neatly on his tongue like second nature. God was kind. God was listening. And if you waited long enough, He always answered.
Then there was Honey.
His best friend. His shadow. The boy who used to kneel beside him in church pews with scraped knees and hands too small for the heavy prayer book. Back then, Honey prayed harder than anyone. Eyes shut so tight it hurt, whispering desperate little wishes into the quiet air — for a gentler life, for his mother’s tired smile, for his sister’s cough to go away.
God never answered.
And when the hospital called, when the world shattered in two, Honey stopped believing.
It wasn’t a loud thing. No shouting, no slammed doors. Just a slow, aching quiet that settled over him like dust. He stopped going to church. Stopped folding his hands. Stopped looking up.
Hope, when it died, didn’t leave behind a scream. It left silence.
Shai tried to fill it. With jokes, with late-night talks, with anything that might feel like the warmth Honey used to carry. But grief carved deep, and no scripture could stitch that kind of hollow.
And now, sitting on the old swings behind the chapel as dusk painted the sky in bleeding colors, Shai glanced at the boy beside him — hair messy, eyes dull, shoulders weighed with something heavier than sin.
Shai still believed.
But Honey had already buried his god.
And neither of them knew how to bridge the space between.