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The room was cold and nearly completely quiet, the two men sitting within too nervous to speak. They were Russian soldiers; one a sapper for Tobolsk Pehotniy Polk and the other a part of the Russkaja pravoslavnaja cerkov. Mikhail nervously fidgeted with his cross pendant, leg bouncing hard enough to make the bed they sat on creak. Mikro was seated next to him, nervously running a hand through his short, black hair.
“So..” Mikro nervously began, placing his hands in his lap to fidget with them. This was meant to be a late night confession, a quiet moment with a man of God. Mikro was never religious though, his parents had never bothered with that sort of thing. Mikhail turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“Hm?” His voice was rather quiet, typical of private moments like this. Mikro hesitated to continue, he didn’t want to make this more uncomfortable than it already was.
“What’s your opinion on the Blight? I know as a Chaplain you’re the closest to it so… I don’t know. I’ve never really heard you speak about how you feel about it during all these months.” Mikro eventually muttered, continuing to fidget with his hands.
Mikhail sucked in a sharp breath at the question, unsure of how to answer. He didn’t want to lie to Mikro, but there were some things he did not want to burden the man with. Conversations like this were hard, being alone was hard. Would he mess this up again, let himself indulge in sin? No, no. He would just answer a simple question and leave, probably calm his nerves with a cigar. Abstinence was the best way to avoid sin, he refused to let himself be tempted. Mikro looked so nice in this lighting, though. That soft face, sturdy body in a uniform that perfectly accented every detail. He shook the thought off, he shouldn’t think that way. This was a confession, not a genuine moment alone to let himself fall into the sapper’s arms once more.
“It's horrifying,” He began, voice trembling. “Damned souls coming back to bring down more men with them. I’ve heard some men believe it's Armageddon, but I doubt that’s the case. There is a lot of weight on my shoulders, Mikro.” He hung his head a bit, sighing deeply as he turned away from the larger man. Mikro simply nodded along to what was being said, not entirely sure of how to reply. He’d feel awful if he just went silent though, he was the one who asked the question.
“Must be hard as a Chaplain, yeah? Just having to take care of the troop and any infected soldiers we get.” Mikro asked quietly, staring at Mikhail as he spoke.
Mikhail only nodded in reply, too nervous that he’d say far too much. Mikro didn’t know how to continue the conversation from here, he could clearly see how tense the man was. He enjoyed talking to Mikhail, but he was terribly secretive at times. In a moment of impulse, Mikro gently reached out a hand to rest it on Mikhail’s shoulder. Mikhail jumped slightly from the touch but didn’t fight it, he just sat there silently. Mikro rubbed his shoulder a bit, smiling softly as he did so. Mikhail returned the smile briefly before glancing away once more, staring down at his lap. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for being here, for their relationship. To the rest of the troop, they were just good friends. A bit clingy, but only just friends. Urs, their surgeon, was the only person that knew the true nature of their relationship. He was a constant thorn in their sides; always threatening to out them but never following through. After all, who was he to accuse a much needed sapper and a Chaplain, a man of God, of being queer? Mikhail hadn't felt very holy lately, if he had to tell the truth. Homosexuality, what an interesting thing. The sin of loving. He felt a bit nauseous thinking about his guilt, knowing that just moments before he had been admiring this sapper’s face like he was something just as holy as the word of God he was raised to follow.
“Being a Chaplain has always been difficult. Just.. a lot of guilt. Not just with this Blight, but everything. You know how I feel about it, it's just..” Mikhail’s voice trailed off as he sighed, shoulders drooping as he spoke. Mikro hesitated for a moment before pulling his hand away, fidgeting once more.
“I can understand that. I know our relationship isn’t exactly.. eh, holy.” Mikro shrugged. He never was a holy man, he had very little knowledge on the rules of Mikhail’s faith. He never understood it, frankly. What kind of all loving God would hate people for, well, loving? But he knew how it gnawed at Mikhail. He saw those little glances, he could hear the tension in his voice.
“I know it’s not. I feel terrible about it. It is not your fault, I simply.. I don’t know. I don’t want you to feel like it's your fault, because it's not. If anything, it's on me for.. indulging, like this...” Mikhail’s voice trailed off, clenching his fists as he exhaled sharply.
Mikro nodded understandingly, he understood the guilt that Mikhail went through for their supposed sin. The church always looked down upon homosexual relationships, both of them were risking their lives just to love. They had been together for a long time now, and Mikhail still struggled so deeply. It made his heart ache to recall all those times where Mikhail wept into his arms, or distanced himself out of a fear of sin. He sighed shakily, pushing away the painful memories of intimate nights treated like nothing in the morning that came after. He understood Mikhail’s fear and guilt, but it was hurting him too. He loved this man so much, but it was becoming extremely difficult to cope with the strain of the relationship.
“I.. understand what it's like. The guilt of our relationship, I understand that with everything its-” Mikro shakily began, gripping the fabric of his pants tightly.
“No.” Mikhail's voice was cold and harsh as he cut Mikro off. It felt like a knife digging into Mikro’s already aching heart, his tone so harsh and flat. “You don't- No, you could never understand how this truly feels.”
Mikro felt his stomach drop. What the hell did he mean by that? He felt his throat start to sting with unwanted tears, he refused to let himself cry over this. He didn’t want to prove himself to be any less of a man than Mikhail clearly already viewed him as. Mikhail had never spoken to him that way before. He understood he wasn’t a real man, but by God he was trying. What was Mikhail trying to imply with that statement? Mikro wasn’t stupid, he understood the guilt that came with being queer. Did Mikhail not understand that he too felt it? The gnawing feeling in his gut, the nauseating guilt that came with letting himself be so intimate with another man? He sucked in a deep breath, struggling to find the proper words.
“...Is that seriously how you see it? How you see me ?” Mikro’s voice was shaky as he barely choked back his tears. He looked at Mikhail with a sense of disgust and betrayal, the stinging in his throat even worse now.
“Mikro, wait- No, I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Mikhail quickly attempted to explain himself, waving his hands around as he spoke. He had meant that Mikro wouldn’t understand the guilt, the religious aspect of the shame and guilt of sin. He had not meant to imply that Mikro was not truly a man, that Mikro wouldn’t be able to understand the general guilt of being gay as he wasn’t born a man.
“Just.. Just stop.” Mikro’s voice was quiet and small, tears starting to drip down his cheeks. “Just stop , Mikhail. I’ve heard enough.” He stood up quickly, not even bothering to properly gather his things before exiting the room and slamming the door behind him.
He walked away as quickly as possible, choking back sobs as he tried to find someplace to be alone. He wanted nobody to speak with him, he wanted nobody to even realize he existed right now. He was sick, he felt so sick. Was that really what Mikhail thought of him? He hated himself for his own stupidity, he never should’ve let someone get so close. To expose such an intimate secret was nothing but stupid. He found a quiet room and entered, shutting the door firmly behind him and slumping against it. He wept, wept for the man he thought he was. The one person he trusted with his most intimate secret didn’t even see him as a man anymore; the man he let explore every inch of his skin, kiss every part of his body, worship every part that defined him as “girl”. A name meaning a new beginning, and the man he trusted most still saw him as nothing more than his past self.
. . .
Mikhail stared blankly at the door, eyes wide with horror as he realized the gravity of his misspoken words. He hadn’t meant it like that, no, God no. Mikro just wouldn’t understand his religious guilt, the gravity of feeling like he was sinning. He hadn’t meant it like that, no, no, no. He wanted to follow Mikro, but his guilt rendered him unable to do more than just stare at that door. Had he just ruined it all? He wanted to sob, but no tears came out. Was there something wrong with him, why wasn’t he crying, why wasn’t he doing more to fix this? He felt his chest tighten with dread, the crushing grasp of anxiety clutching his lungs. He could barely even breathe as his mind raced, he had no clue what he was meant to do. He shakily brought his hands to his face after a while, pressing his palms against his eyes as he struggled to get himself to breathe. He ruined it, he ruined it. One stupid sentence and he just destroyed it all, the one good thing he let himself have. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t mean what he said. He sighed deeply, body shaking as he did so. Could they recover from this? Would Mikro ever forgive him? Please, God, let Mikro forgive him for this. He could try and explain, but he didn’t know if Mikro would even believe him anymore. He simply sat there, paralyzed with dread and anxiety. Lord, punish him for what he did.