Fics like or finding God in your sock drawer

Aldo has never really been one to think much about penance. “We honor God in a multitude of ways,” he’d told Thomas once. “I agree that discomfort is useful. We learn to turn away from our sins and commit to do better. I don't understand what mutilating yourself in His name is meant to accomplish. We were not put in this world to suffer, Thomas." Thomas had been quiet for a long time. "It is a different thing, though," he'd said finally. "You will agree on that much at least. Self-harm is a sin. Self-flagellation has a place in doctrine." Aldo had winced. "Next thing you'll tell me is you've joined Opus Dei. You don’t think confession is enough? Prayer?” “I think mortification of the flesh has its place,” he’d said absently, eyes faraway. “Does it serve a purpose, though, apart from hurting you? Does senseless pain really bring you any closer to Him?” Thomas had barely flinched. Aldo had felt possessed by the urge to grab his jaw and direct him forward, look at me, look! “We must repent, Aldo,” he’d said simply. "By whatever means necessary." He’s always thought Thomas did enough repentance as it was for the two of them. He thinks he understands better now.

Fics like or finding God in your sock drawer

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