The vows under my breath are worth more than chains

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Vox and Valentino first met in the living world. It was the American 1950s, back when the Civil Rights Movement was booming and those who didn't like social change ironically turned to society's newest trend: television. It was a decade where parents and churches condemned rock n' roll and lovers eloped to drive-in movies. It was a time of invention, of innovation, and one man in particular saw his opportunity and ran with it.

Twenty-eight-year-old Voxel Letterman had always labeled himself a righteous man of God. He carried a Bible in his left chest pocket, prayed before dinners, and preached at his city church in Tulsa, Oklahoma. However, following the rapidly expanding television industry, his popularity in the community, and aided by his charisma and charm, he somehow landed a spot on the big screen. In a matter of months, he graduated from a city preacher to a region-wide televangelist. Every Sunday he performed his sermons before an audience of hundreds of thousands, and every day he acted under God's command.

Within months, the cash started flowing in. Donations from hundreds of churchgoers and thousands of viewers filled the bank. Vox saw dollar signs each time the cameras started rolling, and every contract he signed for commercials and fundraisers meant a paycheck with his name on it. Because, of course, why shouldn't one of God's most faithful followers live in comfort? Vox had a son on the way, and a darling wife, Tabitha, who just so happened to prefer only the finest of wines. They deserved the luxury, to hop on cruises and private jets, didn't they? Donating to charities was just a bonus. Vox had everything he wanted, everything he could ever need.

Then, he met Valentino Flores.

One winter, Vox was on a "missionary" trip to Central America, stopping by to "help lower-class neighborhoods build playgrounds." In reality, he just wanted to escape the snow. The press didn't have to know that, however, and so Vox spent his days on the beach with his loving wife and lazed away his nights at a nearby bar while she slept in their hotel room. He met Valentino on the third night, watching with an unsettling interest as the man with steely hazel eyes, a feathered jacket, and two women at his side played a long round of blackjack. Valentino watched his cards closely through red-lensed sunglasses, and in between slow puffs of his cigar. Every now and then one of the women would laugh, and he would either kiss their cheek or let them run their fingers through what was left of his thinly shaved blond hair. Vox couldn't believe the wickedness of it all.

After the game, Valentino looked up at Vox for the first time and grinned coolly before taking strides toward the preacher. Vox clutched his drink tighter, holding it to his chest as his breaths stifled.

"If you keep undressing me with your eyes, guapo, I'll have to give in," Valentino laughed. "What's your name?"

For the first time in years, Vox stuttered. "E-excuse me?"

That made Valentino bellow harder. "Oh, you can't act all shy now. Not after the way you've been eyeing me all night."

"I'm married," Vox blurted out, waving his hands in front of him as though building a wall of air between himself and this stranger. It was then that he realized he left his wedding ring back in the hotel room, tucked next to the bar soap on the bathroom sink. He certainly wasn't helping his case.

"And?"

And? Vox scoffed, disgusted. How could a man so vehemently denounce God's words, ignoring the teachings and turning his back on the Testaments? Vox took a step back, but he was already pressed against the wall. Valentino took this as his cue, towering forward and placing his arms on either side of Vox. He was so close Vox could smell the tobacco on his breath. When Valentino opened his mouth, a golden tooth shined.

"Didn't I ask for your name, sweetheart?" Valentino asked.

And, for some odd, sinful reason, Vox gave it to him. Voxel Letterman. My name is Voxel Letterman. He found out the man's name was Valentino Flores shortly after. He despised knowing that.

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