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liketheroad. Unrated, 4,000+ words, Patrick/Jonny. Possibly I liked this because it hit so incredibly close to home for me. It happens occasionally. There's some seriously heavy shit being discussed here: religious guilt, family issues, internalized and societal homophobia, being so closeted you have no support system. It's not happy-times fic, and while it ends with the UST firmly in place it's quietly hopeful. You go read; I'll just be over here in my corner, weeping.
Johnny was raised Mennonite, which seems about as bad as being Catholic, except there’s less of an emphasis on guilt and more of a focus on the moral value of hard work and unhappiness. His mom’s a lapsed Catholic, though, converting when she married Johnny’s dad, and she still sometimes cries about how little he’s home, so Johnny’s probably got his bases covered, guilt wise.
They’ve never really talked about their faiths, except for the occasional cryptic, drunken reference, but Patrick figures they both believe in something, even if it’s just enough to keep them apart.
***
They’ve acknowledged their feelings for one another, but only once. They were in Vancouver, and Canada had just beaten America for Olympic gold. To this day, Patrick doesn’t know why he chose to bring it up then, except that it was an emotional moment, so happy for Johnny and so sad for himself, and when they met in the handshake line, all he could think to say was, “What I feel for you isn’t wrong.”
Johnny blinked at him and said, “I never said it was.”
Patrick nodded, tugged once on Johnny’s chinstrap, and kept moving down the line.
They haven’t spoken about it since.
liketheroad. Unrated, 4,000+ words, Patrick/Jonny. Possibly I liked this because it hit so incredibly close to home for me. It happens occasionally. There's some seriously heavy shit being discussed here: religious guilt, family issues, internalized and societal homophobia, being so closeted you have no support system. It's not happy-times fic, and while it ends with the UST firmly in place it's quietly hopeful. You go read; I'll just be over here in my corner, weeping.Johnny was raised Mennonite, which seems about as bad as being Catholic, except there’s less of an emphasis on guilt and more of a focus on the moral value of hard work and unhappiness. His mom’s a lapsed Catholic, though, converting when she married Johnny’s dad, and she still sometimes cries about how little he’s home, so Johnny’s probably got his bases covered, guilt wise.
They’ve never really talked about their faiths, except for the occasional cryptic, drunken reference, but Patrick figures they both believe in something, even if it’s just enough to keep them apart.
***
They’ve acknowledged their feelings for one another, but only once. They were in Vancouver, and Canada had just beaten America for Olympic gold. To this day, Patrick doesn’t know why he chose to bring it up then, except that it was an emotional moment, so happy for Johnny and so sad for himself, and when they met in the handshake line, all he could think to say was, “What I feel for you isn’t wrong.”
Johnny blinked at him and said, “I never said it was.”
Patrick nodded, tugged once on Johnny’s chinstrap, and kept moving down the line.
They haven’t spoken about it since.
