Summer Haze [BL]

Chapter 12 - Monks

Winter Lawrence was strange. Everyone said he was strange, but he was strange to me in a different way. I understood why people feared him, but why was he so nice to me? There must be something he needed from me.

A week passed, and he didn't do much that made me want to stay away from him due to fear. Instead, he would chase after me with every given chance.

No matter where I was, Winter would be there. So instead of fearing him purely from intimidation, I feared him because I didn't know where he would appear next.

Following the principal's instructions, Winter helped with the senior's art classes while also assisting the librarian from time to time.

It was 4:00 in the afternoon, and after our teacher's meeting ended, Winter waited for me outside the office.

I was still hesitant on whether to go with him or not, but since he would only go to the dinner if I was there, I had no other option.

While we walked to the carpark, Winter kept humming the same familiar melody. It sounded like Return to Me by Martin, but it wasn't. I heard this tune before, but where? The more I focused on his humming, the more a disturbing force drove through my head.

I got into his car. "What song is that? It sounds quite nice."

"It's just something I heard while I was a child. I think my father used to sing it to me all the time, so it's been stuck in my head for a long time."

The atmosphere between us died down, though I was unsure why things had become so awkward.

All I knew was that I shouldn't ever forget the song he was singing.

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Sunlight filtered in silently through the car window. From time to time, a gentle breeze blew in, and the seagulls cries occasionally interrupted the radio playing in the background. The car had an autumn-morning scent. Driving on the highway, it had been a long time since I went to the beach.

Further into the distance and past the trees, there was a small patch of sparkling ocean, a mere fragment of the enormous Pacific, and a small church. The shore and slopes around dyed themselves in setting colours, minute gradations of yellow and red, with an intrusion of green from the clumps of evergreens.

The church bells rang loudly, and the elders, monks, and church members all started heading into another area. The monks dressed in black attire, walking in a straight line while the others followed.

The beauty of the world, the love for humanity. The more one loved humanity, the realisation of the flaws made one less love man in general. The more they did their little actions of talking or coughing—even waving their hand around when they laughed—the more you engaged in chatter with someone, the more disturbed you became.

Then, what was a man who was clean of sin and irritability? Someone who was loved by everyone. Were they the ones blessed by God? Someone who was blessed by the figure beyond these walls of this little world was none other than the monks of the Church.

These selections of people were the ones closest to that light beyond the walls, living in seclusion. Yet, the more the Elders and monks isolated themselves from the people of the walls, the more they recognised they were not better than others, but worse.

They monks were responsible to all men, for all human sins, for all individuals. They were the reason freedom didn't exist. Yet, every one of us were responsible for all men and everything on earth, not merely the general sinfulness of creation, but also for the creation of every individual man.