The Things He Couldn’t Pray Away

Marcus had always believed feelings could be controlled.

That was what his father taught him.

Discipline.

Obedience.

Control.

A Beaumont never acted on emotion.

A Beaumont never let feelings cloud judgment.

A Beaumont certainly never wanted things he wasn’t supposed to have.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about Xander?

The question followed him everywhere.

Into church services.

Into family dinners.

Into sleepless nights where the shadows on his bedroom ceiling seemed to stretch endlessly above him.

It had been four days since the chapel.

Four days since Xander sat beside him while he cried.

Four days since someone looked at him and didn’t expect perfection.

And Marcus missed him.

The realization settled heavily in his chest.

Missed him.

Not the conversations.

Not the company.

Him.

Xander.

His laugh.

His stubbornness.

The way he always looked directly into Marcus’s eyes when they talked, as if he actually cared about the answers.

Nobody looked at Marcus like that.

Most people saw Nathaniel Beaumont’s son.

The perfect church boy.

The future heir to the Beaumont name.

Nobody saw Marcus.

Except Xander.

And somehow that terrified him.

Because every day apart only made the feeling worse.

⸻

Dinner was silent.

Not peaceful.

Never peaceful.

The kind of silence that felt sharp enough to cut skin.

Marcus sat perfectly straight in his chair.

His father sat at the head of the table.

His mother sat quietly beside him.

Nobody spoke unless spoken to.

That was the rule.

Nathaniel folded his napkin carefully.

“Pastor Williams spoke highly of you today.”

Marcus immediately straightened.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You represented our family well.”

Relief briefly filled his chest.

Then came the second sentence.

It always came.

“Don’t disappoint me.”

Marcus lowered his eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

The relief disappeared instantly.

Nathaniel stood.

The conversation was over.

Marcus watched him leave.

His appetite vanished.

His mother quietly reached for her glass of water.

Her hands were shaking.

Just slightly.

Most people wouldn’t notice.

Marcus did.

He always noticed.

Because he knew exactly what caused it.

The fear.

The constant fear.

The fear that lived inside every room of this house.

The fear nobody talked about.

The fear his father created without even raising his voice.

Marcus looked down at his plate.

Suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

He needed air.

He needed out.

⸻

Later that night he escaped to his bedroom.

The largest room he’d ever had.

The loneliest too.

Expensive furniture.

Expensive decorations.

Expensive everything.

And none of it mattered.

Because no amount of money could make a house feel like home.

Marcus sat beside his window.

The stars were visible tonight.

Small pieces of light scattered across darkness.

His thoughts drifted somewhere dangerous.

To Xander.

Again.

Always Xander.

Marcus remembered the way he laughed.

The way he rolled his eyes.

The way he listened.

Really listened.

A smile appeared before Marcus could stop it.

Then he froze.

The smile disappeared.

His stomach twisted.

Because suddenly something clicked.

Something he had been avoiding.

Something he had been refusing to acknowledge.

He wasn’t just thinking about Xander.

He wasn’t just worried about him.

He wasn’t just grateful.

Marcus closed his eyes.

“Oh.”

The word barely escaped him.

His heartbeat sped up.

No.

No, no, no.

That wasn’t possible.

It couldn’t be.

Not him.

Not after everything he’d been taught.

Not after every sermon.

Every lecture.

Every warning.

But the truth was sitting right in front of him.

Unavoidable.

He thought about Xander when he woke up.

He thought about him before he slept.

He looked for him in crowds.

He wanted to hear his voice.

Wanted to sit beside him.

Wanted to tell him things he’d never told anyone else.

Wanted to see him smile.

Wanted to protect him.

Wanted—

Marcus pressed a hand over his face.

Because for the first time he understood.

This wasn’t friendship.

At least not only friendship.

And that realization terrified him more than anything.

⸻

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

Marcus immediately stood.

“Come in.”

His mother stepped inside.

For a moment neither spoke.

She looked tired.

More tired than usual.

Marcus hated how often he noticed that now.

She sat on the edge of his bed.

“You’ve been quiet.”

He almost laughed.

The entire house was quiet.

But somehow she always knew.

“I’m fine.”

A lie.

A terrible one.

His mother smiled sadly.

“You don’t have to do that with me.”

Marcus looked away.

The room felt smaller.

“What if I’m becoming someone Dad wouldn’t approve of?”

The words escaped before he could stop them.

His mother’s expression changed.

Not shock.

Not anger.

Something softer.

Something painful.

“Marcus.”

He stared at the floor.

“What if there’s something wrong with me?”

The silence stretched.

His chest tightened.

Then his mother reached over and squeezed his hand.

A small gesture.

A dangerous gesture in this house.

But warm.

So warm.

“Nothing is wrong with you.”

Marcus swallowed hard.

His eyes burned.

“How do you know?”

His mother looked like she wanted to say a thousand things.

Instead she whispered only one.

“Because I know you.”

The answer nearly broke him.

Because nobody ever said that.

Nobody ever claimed to know him.

Not really.

⸻

After she left, Marcus sat by the window again.

The stars hadn’t moved.

Neither had the ache in his chest.

But now it had a name.

Xander.

The realization felt frightening.

Yet strangely freeing.

Like finally admitting the truth after carrying it for miles.

Marcus cared about him.

Deeply.

More deeply than he should.

More deeply than was safe.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because his father could never know.

The church could never know.

The town could never know.

Everything would fall apart.

Yet despite all of that—

Despite the fear.

Despite the guilt.

Despite every warning he’d ever heard—

The thought of seeing Xander tomorrow made him smile.

A real smile.

The kind that reached his eyes.

For once Marcus didn’t try to stop it.

Maybe the world would hate what he felt.

Maybe his family would too.

But beneath the fear, beneath the expectations, beneath the impossible weight of being Nathaniel Beaumont’s son—

There was something else.

Hope.

Small.

Fragile.

Dangerous.

But alive.

Marcus stared at the stars and wondered if Xander was looking at them too.

And for the first time in his life, a prayer escaped his lips that had nothing to do with church.

“Please let me see him tomorrow.”

The night answered with silence.

But somehow Marcus smiled anyway

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