Kyrie Eleison

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Kyrie Eleison

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Father Albright gave them the talk twice a year: once for the new boys in June, after the final auditions had taken place, and once sitting beside the chapel's ceiling-high Christmas tree before the winter pageant.

"There are a lot of people out there tonight who aren't from our neighborhood," he said, keeping his platonic hands folded respectfully in his lap. "Remember the rules, gentlemen. Never let anyone touch you. Under no circumstances should you go anywhere with someone you don't know, and if you ever feel uncomfortable, come find me or an adult you trust. Don't be afraid to tell people to leave you alone. Your safety is paramount to this church."

Tibby Wallace had been singing with St. Cecilia's choir for three years. Two days before his eleventh birthday, Everett Morgan--a sweet-eyed soloist with a voice like a bell--had disappeared into the night with a Father's hand over his mouth. They'd never heard from either of them again. Since then, the older choristers had been bursting with horror stories about monsters with clerical collars, and the men of the church made it a point not to so much as breathe the same air as a boy without a chaperone present. After his speech, Father Albright made the choir leave the room first. Only when he turned to lock the door behind them did Evan Carson have time to grab Tibby's sleeves and pull him behind a pillar.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered. He had black hair and blue eyes, the kind of blue that seemed to sing in the darkness. He drew Tibby's hands into his own. "Um--is this allowed?"

"I consent," said Tibby. That was the word that Father Albright had taught them--consent. "Merry Christmas, Evan."

Evan grinned. He was ten months Tibby's senior, fourteen glorious years old, and when he changed out of his choir robes after Wednesday night rehearsals, a beautiful three inches of skin showed above the tight line of his jeans. They stood on opposite sides of the risers during practice, treble and tenor. They sneaked glances at each other over their hymn books the whole time.

"We leave in nine days," said Evan. "Are you excited?"

"Yeah," said Tibby. The trip had been in the works for months now. They were going to sing during some humanitarian movement in Madrid. Tibby didn't know anything about Spain or youth activism, but it meant a week sharing a hotel abroad with Evan on New Year's Eve--that was enough for him. "Who are you rooming with? The twins?"

"No, I think they're going to be with Reilly. I'm sharing a room with Jakob and Zander. You?"

"Clem and Harper."

"You blonds like to stick together just to tease the rest of us?" said Evan, smiling.

Tibby blushed. He was just parting his lips to reply when Father Albright rounded the corner again, noticed their proximity, and flashed them both a rare frown.

"Mr. Wallace, Mr. Carson," he said. "Everyone in the pageant is waiting on the last two angels."

"Sorry," said Evan. He gave Tibby's hand one final squeeze, nodded to Father Albright, and pushed past him to race down the corridor after the rest of the choir. His laughter echoed down the hall. The beginning organ notes slipped from the open door, festive and reverent.

Tibby closed his eyes to retain Evan's scent. He'd know it anywhere; candles and gingerbread and sweet shampoo. He was getting more and more used to that sharp pang of longing he got in his stomach whenever Evan walked away. But what did it mean? Could something that stung so badly possibly be good? Tibby opened his eyes to find Father Albright still watching him, his face gentle and knowing. Tibby felt a wave of shame wash over him. He had been present for all of the sermons about the evils of loving the wrong people. He knew men couldn't love boys. Boys couldn't love boys.

"Could I go to hell for it?" Tibby asked softly. "Is it a sin?"

Father Albright seemed to struggle between answers for a moment, but when he finally relaxed into a smile, there was no tension in his voice. "Right now, it just means that you have a big heart," he said. "You are a gift from God, every part of you. All of you boys are. Don't let anyone tell you that you're not the most precious thing this world has to offer."

Tibby's vision blurred. The Christmas lights faded together into a soft rainbow. Love still felt like the sun to him, even in this dark winter. "Merry Christmas, Father."

"Merry Christmas, Tibby," said Father Albright. "Go have a good pageant."

Hurrying down the corridor to join his friends on the risers to sing, Tibby clutched his hymn book to his chest and smiled. Maybe the Bible had different ideas about who was supposed to make his pulse race. Maybe Adam was only meant for Eve. But Father Albright saw value in Tibby's clumsy heart, saw something beautiful, and that was enough for him. He bustled into the chapel in time for his first notes and went straight to the risers, where Evan Carson waited for him, grinning under the mistletoe.

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"Is everyone on board?" said Father Brenner. "Raise your hand if you aren't here!"

Madrid was frigid and beautiful. Jet-lagged from the flight and laden down with their luggage, the boys were yawning as they climbed onto the bus to go to their hotel. It was an out-of-the-way stop, almost in the middle of nowhere. The only other passengers waiting there were three surly American men wearing baseball caps--the Giants, the Dodgers, and the Rangers. They grumbled on the sidewalk as they waited for Father Albright to finish a headcount. Only after all nine boys were accounted for did he board the bus after them, moving to the back to help Father Brenner load the luggage into the overhead compartments.

"Take your seats quickly so the gentlemen behind you can get off their feet," he said.

Zander sighed and slumped into the seat nearest the right window, and Evan and Noah took the left, rushing to clear the aisle. Tibby lingered by the driver, nibbling at one fingernail. Clem and Harper flowed past him, their hair glowing in the sunlight, followed shortly by Reilly, Jakob, and then Nathan Rosenthal--who spared Tibby a knowing glance that made his stomach fill with butterflies. Probably tuning into that inscrutable twin channel, Noah Rosenthal suddenly stood up next to Evan.

"Oh, sorry, Tibs," he said. "Did you want to sit here?"

Tibby waved his hands. "No, that's okay!"

"Are you sure?"

"Really, no, I don't mind."

"For God's sake, Noah, just move over here," said Zander, swinging his bag off of the seat. "If he sits next to me, all I'm going to hear for the next hour is Evan this, Evan that, ohmygod look at how cute Evan is when he's sleeping!"

Noah laughed and retrieved his backpack from between his feet, scooting to sit beside Zander. Together, the two of them looked like a study in opposites--Noah with his bright, innocent eyes, Zander wearing gunmetal Ray Bans and lime green Converse. One of them looked like a choirboy, the other anything but. Their only similarity was the sudden deviousness in their smiles.

"He's all yours now, Tibby-Wibby," said Noah.

"Hope you have a nice ride," Zander added, with a cheeky little wave.

Tibby glared at them, knowing that his blush had already spread to the rest of his face. Then, moving gingerly so as not to disturb Evan, he slipped into the newly vacated seat. Evan had already dozed off against the window with one hand cupping his chin. The pane behind him backlit the dark tendrils of his hair, making the tips glow the color of honey. He stirred and rolled over when he felt Tibby sit down. His beautiful eyes were half-lidded with fatigue, but he still went to the effort to treat Tibby to a wide, sleepy grin.

"Well, hi there," he said.

"Hi," said Tibby softly. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah, but you're totally worth waking up for."

Their feelings toward each other were obvious and unspoken, but they were getting closer and closer to realizing them every day. Two years had passed since their first rehearsal together. That amounted to a hundred timid nods in the chapel, a thousand longing looks from across the choir stalls, a few dozen brief conversations after practice. They had only just started speaking directly to each other in November. Tibby smiled shyly at Evan, and nearly melted when Evan smiled back.

"Get a room!" Zander called from his seat, then dissolved into laughter as Noah shushed him and swatted him in the chest with his book.

The boys were finally settled, and the driver was already coasting down the nearly-empty street, despite the fact that the three American men had not yet gotten situated. They roamed the aisles, searching for free spots in the overhead compartments to stash their sizeable backpacks. The one in the Rangers cap had a long, thin bag slung over one arm, the type you'd use to carry golf clubs. He lingered by their seat. His eyes locked with Tibby's.

"Do you have room?" Evan asked him. "Want me to move my suitcase?"

"I'm sure I can find some place in the back to squeeze it in," said the Ranger. He stared at Tibby for a moment longer, then slowly continued down the bus, scanning the rows with hawk-like intensity. His heavy combat boots thudded with each step. Tibby turned to watch him stroll away and got a soft chill for no reason at all.

"Creepy much?" Noah whispered, leaning across the aisle.

"A little," agreed Tibby, chewing his lower lip. "I wonder if they're here for the demonstration."

"They look like they're from the military," said Evan.

It was true. Especially now, with all three of them 'patrolling' the aisle. Tibby watched them walk between the rows, moving slowly, with purpose--what were they looking for? There were plenty of free seats in the back. The bus driver continued down the winding road, gaining speed despite the increasingly rough terrain. He did not tell the men to sit down.

Father Albright was watching them, too. He had taken a seat beside Jakob near the middle of the bus and was marking the men's progress with careful eyes, his expression cagey and concentrated, as it always was when he was responsible for the boys' safety. He had been badly shaken when Everett Morgan had been kidnapped--had known the priest responsible, too. Since then, he had stopped ruffling their hair or giving out hugs or even clasping a casual hand to the boys' shoulders. The distance he maintained was resolute, unyielding. Fatherless since he was four, Tibby still ached for that paternal contact sometimes, but he was grateful that Father Albright refused to compromise his mantle as a trustworthy guardian. Especially in situations like these.

"Don't turn around," the driver barked suddenly, startling Tibby. They were the first words he'd spoken since they'd boarded the bus, and his voice was deep and forceful, as if under great strain. He had no hint of an accent. "Keep your eyes forward, boy--this is a government-ordered safety measure."

"Oh, sorry!" Tibby sat back in his seat. He searched the front of the bus for the rearview mirror so he could continue watching the rows behind him, and blinked in confusion. No mirror. Was that a Spanish thing?

"What's happening?" said Evan quietly.

There was a rustle from the back. Tibby almost turned around again instinctively, but the driver's now-authoritative presence held him in place. There was a soft murmur of conversation, then everyone fell dead silent.

"Something's wrong," Evan whispered.

Without moving, Tibby could only see Noah and Zander from his seat. Zander had lowered his headphones and was listening carefully to the sounds of the bus, his lips pursed with tension. Noah, nervous, was just leaning over to peek around his seat.

The man in the Dodgers cap lashed out without warning and seized a handful of Noah's dark hair, heaving him back against the window. Noah cried out; a sharp, startled cry that seemed to shatter the stillness of the bus. Father Albright leapt to his feet, shouting. Nathan hurtled forward and latched onto Dodgers' arm, fighting to liberate his twin. Tibby himself was just standing up to help when the Ranger caught him by the base of his neck and pressed him back into place, cramming onto the seat with them, so that Tibby's body was forced flush against Evan's. Suddenly, the noise in the bus was deafening.

"So we meet again," said the Ranger to Tibby.

"What the hell!" Evan yelled. His voice was almost lost in the clamor. "What's wrong with you? Let go of him!"

The Ranger responded by removing the gun from his belt and centering the barrel between Tibby's eyes.

"Sit down and shut up," he said calmly. "We are armed. We've got guns on all of your little friends, and that man of God back there. Next boy who whines gets his seat partner shot, and trust me, kid, we've got no qualms about fucking dead bodies."

Tibby merely squeezed his eyes shut and waited. Behind him, Evan's body had gone completely rigid, and they were being held so closely together that he couldn't even tell who was shaking anymore. Slowly, so slowly, the pressure on Tibby's neck abated. Then the Ranger let go. The ice in Tibby's limbs melted a layer at a time. He curled against Evan, shivering. Evan folded both arms protectively around his shoulders, his trembling lips grazing the curve of Tibby's cheek. Neither of them dared to speak again.

"How far is it to the next checkpoint?" the Ranger asked.

The bus driver removed a map from his front pocket, pinned it to the front window, and pointed. Even knowing nothing about geography, Tibby knew that the dark red line that delineated their route led nowhere near Spain. "We're going eighty. You figure out how much time that gives you."

"More than enough," said Dodger. He had arranged himself between Zander and Noah, one arm slung companionably around each boy. The pistol in his right hand rested casually against Zander's shoulder.

"Leave a few for me," said the driver. "One of the blonds, and the pretty thing by Father Holy in the back."

Father Brenner spoke up suddenly from his own seat. "Jakob."

"Jakob," repeated the driver, testing out the sound of it. "Lovely."

Brenner stretched languorously in his full garb, a gesture so strange, so utterly unpriest-like that Tibby felt something dark spread through his stomach. No. Not Father Brenner. He was newer to their church, but he had always had a ready smile and endless treasuries of trinkets; key-chains and miniature Rubik's cubes, plastic soldiers with tiny paper parachutes glued to their backs. When he stood up to stroll down the aisle, no one made a move to stop him. The man in the Giants cap, shifting through the golf club bag, pulled an automatic rifle free and passed it to Brenner.

"You bastard," Father Albright whispered, realization dawning in his voice. "You bastard! What have you done?"

"Come on, John, don't tell me you've never had fantasies about them." Brenner sat down and dragged Clementine Kesler into his lap, making him whimper. "Look at these eyes," Brenner urged, rubbing his large hands beneath Clem's shirt. "Look at these sweet, fuckable little bodies."

Father Albright flinched away, sickened. The Giant's gun at his temple was the only thing keeping him from leaping to his feet. "You're a monstrosity. God help you."

"God isn't here," said Brenner, laughing, and began pulling Clem's pants down over his slender hips.

This isn't happening, Tibby told himself, leaning back against his seat. Noah Rosenthal was shrieking beneath Dodger's heaving body, Nathan saying something shrill and barely comprehensible in protest. Evan was still holding him. Tibby didn't move as the Ranger reached between his legs, fondling him gently through his jeans. This isn't happening, Tibby--you're at home, getting ready to go to Madrid for a peace movement. Wake up. Please wake up.

"No!" Evan pleaded, grabbing the Ranger's wrist. "Don't touch him!"

"Quiet, love, I'll do you next," said the Ranger, shaking him away. He unzipped Tibby's pants to inch his fingers past the elastic waistband of his underpants, then palmed Tibby's flaccid length, making his whole body burn with shame. Tibby's throat had closed up, but Evan cried out for him, hurling himself forward again.

"No, stop! Get your fucking hands off of him!"

The Ranger slapped Evan across the face. It was a dizzying, solid backhand that echoed all the way up to the bus ceiling. Evan had to catch himself against the seat, reeling from the blow, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. His cheek was already beginning to bruise. No one had ever raised a hand to him. To any of them.

"Got a mouth on you, don't you, choirboy?" the Ranger purred, grabbing his chin. "You're going to learn how to use it, believe me. But for now, you just sit there and watch, or I'll blow your brains out and fuck your little friend raw. Your decision."

Trembling, Evan locked eyes with Tibby. His gaze was desperate for guidance. It was a look that said he would fight to the death for Tibby, if he so wished it--but Tibby knew the Ranger wasn't the only man with a gun here. There were the Giant and Father Brenner in the back to think about, and the hijacker wearing the Dodgers cap in the next seat over. Beside them, Dodger had forced Noah to his knees on the bus floor. He thrust his erect cock between Noah's full lips, fucking his mouth in deep, leisurely strokes. Noah's body heaved with silent sobs. Zander was cringing against the far window, the man's gun pressed to his temple.

There was nothing any of them could do yet. Nothing except try to stay alive.

Trying not to let his lips quiver, Tibby shook his head minutely at Evan. Evan grabbed one of his hands and pulled it between his own. They'd so rarely shared physical moments like this, and Tibby would've given the world if this one could've been under different circumstances.

"Good choice," said the Ranger, smiling.

The man began to stroke him.

Tears stung Tibby's eyes. He squeezed them shut and leaned back against the bus seat, struggling to keep his breathing steady as the man caressed him between the legs. The Ranger's hand was dry and callused. There was no pleasure in the friction--it only burned.

"Remember the caroling party last year?" Evan said desperately. The gun was resting between them, near their shoulders. He tilted his head past it so his lips were almost brushing Tibby's ear. "We met at Clem's house that night and drank apple cider. I could still sing the higher parts back then, but I took a lower one so I could stand across from you when we went out. We had a duet at the beginning of 'Angels We Have Heard on High.' I missed my cue at your mom's house because I was too busy staring at you."

Tibby remembered. It was hard to recall that memory now, with a stranger trying to coax a sexual response out of him, but Evan's voice was smooth and metronomic and reminded him of Christmas. Tibby clung frantically to the cadence of his words. He tried to think of mistletoe.

"Listen to the boy, if he turns you on," the Ranger encouraged, rubbing him faster. "I'm not letting you go until I get you off."

"Please, no," Tibby whimpered.

"I could fuck your ass instead. I could make your friend hold you down while I do you."

"I'd die first," Evan said, in a voice like steel. He nestled back next to Tibby, squeezing his hands harder and bringing them to his lips. He kissed Tibby's knuckles one at a time, making Tibby shiver. "I'm right here, Tibs--just concentrate on me. I'm right here. I'm never going to leave you."

Finally, shamefully, Tibby felt a soft stirring between his legs. Evan, he thought.

"Good boy," the Ranger whispered. "I'll finish you up fast."

With his rough, practiced hand, the Ranger increased his pace. Tibby looked everywhere but his own lap. The window. The seat beside him. Dodger had finished with Noah. He'd hauled him back to his feet and forced him to take a seat in his lap, pinning his arms in place so he could run a hand through his hair. Noah couldn't even move to wipe his mouth. The man's ejaculate was drying white on his lips and cheeks. He and Zander could no longer meet each other's eyes.

Tibby reached for him. "Noah--"

Noah, shuddering with sobs, made no response. He closed his eyes as Dodger kissed his neck. The man's silver teeth looked like razors.

"Look at me," Evan instructed, seizing Tibby's chin. "Tibby, look at me."

Tibby looked into Evan's blue eyes and had to choke back a cry almost immediately. The Ranger was jerking him off in quick, expert strokes. Staring at Evan's face had nearly pushed him over the edge--but that was wrong. It wasn't Evan's hand on him now. This was cheating.

"It's okay, let yourself go," Evan coaxed.

"No," Tibby sobbed. "I can't--I--"

"He won't stop until you do it! Just relax, Tibby--think of something else."

With convulsive effort, Tibby let go. He no longer had a choice. He felt that unwilling pleasure peak, a thrill that he felt in every fiber of his body. It was nothing like touching himself. He saw sparks behind his closed eyelids as the Ranger forced him to climax, and suddenly his hips were arching against the man's hand against his own volition, humiliatingly desperate. The cry that escaped his lips didn't even sound like him. It was so breathy, so sexual--and he'd let it slip in a moment of complete silence on the bus. If there'd been any questions as to what was being done to him, they were answered now.

Tears slid down Tibby's cheeks as he caught his breath, feeling sick with shame. Then Clem Kesler moaned from the backseat. Tibby held Evan's hands in a bruising grip as he came back down, shivery and sick and unable to stop the Ranger from tilting his chin up and tracing his lips with his tongue. There was no indignity in what was being done to them. The disgrace was their captors' and their captors' alone.

"Oh, sweet pea," the Ranger whispered between kisses, frighteningly tender. "You're too young to actually come, aren't you? I didn't realize. Beautiful little boy. We'll take great care of you."

The brakes screeched on dirt below them. In the sudden silence, Tibby could hear Father Albright whispering soft and empty platitudes, and his friends stirring behind him. The air in the bus was stagnant with the smell of sweat. Slowly, so slowly, Tibby pulled his pants back up over his hips and fastened his zipper. He could think of nothing else to do. Evan was stroking his hair.

"We're here," said the driver, standing up. "Get them to the van."

"You heard the man," Dodger boomed into the silence, giving Noah's ass a hearty slap. "Up and at 'em, boys."

The Ranger pulled Tibby off of the bus first, and Tibby hauled Evan with him, both of them refusing to let go of each other's hands. That gave them all time to linger by the steps to see who would be joining them in their unknown fate: Zander and Nathan Rosenthal. Noah, sobbing under Dodger's arm, Reilly at the Giant's gunpoint with dark, emotionless eyes. And Clem Kesler. Clem, lovely and golden in Father Brenner's possessive embrace, naked from the waist down with blood streaming down his beautiful thighs. That left Father Albright, Jakob, and Harper on the bus with the armed driver. Tibby glanced over his shoulder just once to see the man advancing on Jakob, his erection already liberated from his slacks.

"Oh, god," said Zander, very softly.

The waiting van was black and windowless. Three more armed men were waiting there to haul open the doors, and the cabin inside was cramped, sparsely lined with metal benches and chains. Dodger, the Ranger, and the Giant forced the boys inside one at a time. Still numb, Tibby was shuttled in last with minimal resistance, and the protective arms of his friends were little comfort as the doors were bolted shut behind them.

"Pray with me," Clem sobbed in the darkness. He was still bleeding between the legs--they could feel the stickiness of it on the van floor. "Pray with me, you guys, please."

So they prayed. Noah had to pause in the middle of it to throw up, and the loud rattle of the engine eventually drowned out their voices, but they prayed. They linked hands. It was the only way they could keep track of each other in the pitch black van, seven friends who thought they'd been going to a peace movement. Evan's palm was clammy and desperate against Tibby's. Tibby clung back, his body still shaking from the Ranger's touch, and prayed to a God he no longer trusted that they would survive the night.


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End of chapter one


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AN: Hi! Please feel free to drop me a review if you have time, so I know whether or not this is worth posting. Thank you for reading!