(abz) epiphany
Sep. 28th, 2006 12:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
visionplaceTitle: Epiphany
Fandom: Altar Boyz
Characters: Matthew, Mark, Luke, Juan, Abraham
epiphany (n.) a comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization
Fandom: Altar Boyz
Characters: Matthew, Mark, Luke, Juan, Abraham
epiphany (n.) a comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization
Even from the back of the van, Mark could hear Luke insisting that he should be the one to drive and Abraham attempting to retain his patience, while Juan marveled at a sign boasting the best baby back ribs in New Jersey. He smiled to himself and sank further back into his seat, shifting in the seat belt so that the strap was behind him. He glanced at Matthew beside him from the corner of his eye. He was adamantly reading a dog-eared page of The Purpose-Driven Life, his eyebrows furrowed slightly and his lips moving soundlessly as he read. Mark turned his head away and his focus fell onto the racing white line on the road outside his window. The monotony of the moving lines and the stress of the day’s exertions took their toll, and he surrendered to his heavy eyelids.
It was not the jolt of the van doors slamming shut that woke him, but rather the swaying motion that resulted from Luke plowing into the side of the van. Mark’s eyes flew open to see Abe on the other side of the window with the gas pump in his hand, shaking his head as Luke picked himself up off the ground. He could hear the sound of Juan’s laughter coming from outside, and he grinned to himself, the kind that warmed his cheeks and made him forget that he had ever been without friends.
He settled back into his seat, unbuckling the seat belt that had been so tightly clamped across his lap. Glancing at the space next to him, the color drained from his cheeks slightly as he observed his band mate beside him, head nodding in sleep. Mark watched him in silence, the familiarity of his face such that he knew it by heart. The strong, leader façade that he had grown used to seeing on his friend’s face had vanished, Mark had watched it melt away on a stage in New York. And yet, this was how he remembered Matthew the most, in those few stolen moments. He saw the face that he had clamped eyes on that day in the street years ago, the face of God, he had foolishly thought then. Matthew had always been uncomfortable in his role as savior, but for Mark, it represented the defining moment in his life. Like Saint Paul on the road to Damascus, Matthew had been the bolt of lightening that struck the truth into him, spiritually and personally. He was the one to let Mark know that he was not alone.
Matthew’s shoulders shrugged slightly, and his eyes fluttered open. Mark was caught off guard and he smiled bashfully, brushing the hair out of his eyes with the tips of his fingers and looked away for a moment. A grin tugged at the corners of Matthew’s mouth, and he disguised it with a yawn, reaching out to gently ruffle Mark’s hair before scratching his chest and glancing out the window. Mark followed his gaze across the parking lot and into the convenience store. He could see the outlines of Juan and Abraham at the register and the top of Luke’s cap-covered head from behind an aisle of snack foods. Matthew pulled his cell phone out from the drink holder beside him and flipped it open. An iridescent blue light flooded the features of his face before he quickly shut the phone and the two of them were left alone in the shadowed darkness created by the overhang outside.
An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them, and Mark sighed softly and began to trace the patterned upholstery on the seat in front of him with his index finger. He was very much aware of the fact that Matthew had spoken very little since their show last night when Sony had insisted they return home to Ohio in a cheap rental van. Luke, Juan, and himself had welcomed the van with a laugh, while Abe and Matthew had shared a solemn look, one that Mark was unable to decipher. He was surprised to find that he was not at all shaken up from the night’s drama. He could recall how Abraham’s words had cleared a fog that had seemingly been blinding him from maintaining his true path, but he had to believe that that was what was supposed to happen. Everything happens for a reason. Isn’t that what people were always telling him? Matthew cleared his throat as if he would speak and Mark turned his head to look back at his friend’s troubled face and wondered if maybe it was not that simple.
Matthew’s eyes met Mark’s at last and his lips formed a small frown. “I’m... sorry—” he began to say. His voice was hushed and raspy. Mark cocked his head to the side, inquisitively arching his eyebrows, but said nothing. Internal struggle was a cruel circumstance that Mark understood too well. It had been his experience that many people in the world were going to hate you, whether for your beliefs or for who you are. But only the hatred for yourself and the retched imbalance it places upon your spiritual and emotional equilibrium is ten thousand times worse than any amount of harsh words or Nair. As Mark looked over at Matthew, he felt as if he could almost see the weight of his shame resting on his shoulders, and for a moment, Mark thought he saw a glimpse of his twelve-year-old self in his leader. The image both frightened him and encouraged him at the same time. Matthew’s eyes narrowed slightly and one brow raised as if he knew what his younger friend had been thinking.
“I’ve never been at a crossroads before… I have always known where I was going and never had to second guess it.” He paused for a very brief moment and his brows furrowed together. “My first real test of faith, and I have failed it miserably.” Mark sat there motionless as Matthew continued to speak, long, winded sentences that fell out of his mouth as if they had been teetering there on the tip of his tongue for days. He spoke of betraying his friends, but the tone in his voice suggested that he felt he had betrayed himself as well.
Mark felt a twinge of guilt for not feeling such passionate anger toward himself, or even at Matthew for what he had almost done. Perhaps it was because his solo deal confession that night had not come as a surprise, though an overheard phone conversation several weeks before had. But even then, it had seemed like the right thing to do. Because it was Matthew. Somehow that fact had made it all seem okay. He knew now that he was wrong. But looking into Matthew’s troubled eyes, he thought that maybe things really were far simpler than what his worried friend was clinging to. He chose his words carefully. "If it weren't for Judas, Christ would never have died for our sins, right? So in a certain way, Judas did the right thing, didn't he?"
Matthew blinked and then shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips. “That’s the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”
Mark grinned and sighed heavily. “You of all people should realize, Matthew, everything happens for a reason. Good or bad, it’s all part of God’s plan. My childhood was a living nightmare, but everyday I am grateful for those Episcopalian thugs. Without their torments and ridicule, you would never have been there to save me. Heaven knows where I would be without you.” He paused for a moment and cast his eyes toward the back of the seat in front of him, his cheeks blushing a rosy shade of pink. “I just meant that only out of darkness can there be light. And you may think that you have strayed from your path, but maybe you’ve really just hit a poorly illuminated section.”
Matthew did not say a word in response, but let a small smile inch onto his face. He bowed his head slightly and placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder, leaning forward as if he would whisper a secret into his ear, but instead pulled Mark into a tight embrace. It was Matthew who pulled away moments later, and when he did, Mark noticed that the familiarity he had always clung to in his eyes was gone. It was replaced by something different, almost as if his eyes had turned a lighter shade of brown, and he thought he could see something that resembled pride hidden inside. Matthew opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the opening of the van doors. Any moment that might have been shared between the two of them vanished, and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that Mark looked away as Matthew retracted his arms from their embrace.
Three bodies hopped inside and the ambience of the van changed dramatically. Juan dodged a bag of potato chips as it whizzed past his head, landing with a smack on the empty space that had formed between the two of them. Mark put on a smile for Luke, who had draped his body over the passenger’s seat like a blanket and was grinning broadly at the occupants of the back seat. Abe reached over and tugged forcefully on the back of his shirt, and Luke disappeared behind the seat muttering something about Matthew and Clay Aiken before Abe burst out laughing and started the van. The warm sensation quickly made its way back to Mark’s cheeks, and he found that his smile had faded into a genuine one. Grabbing the bag of chips, he pulled it open and took a chip for himself before turning to offer one to Matthew. His friend was wearing a smile that matched his own, and as his hand reached into the bag, Mark realized that he had never felt like part of a family more than he did at that very moment.
It was not the jolt of the van doors slamming shut that woke him, but rather the swaying motion that resulted from Luke plowing into the side of the van. Mark’s eyes flew open to see Abe on the other side of the window with the gas pump in his hand, shaking his head as Luke picked himself up off the ground. He could hear the sound of Juan’s laughter coming from outside, and he grinned to himself, the kind that warmed his cheeks and made him forget that he had ever been without friends.
He settled back into his seat, unbuckling the seat belt that had been so tightly clamped across his lap. Glancing at the space next to him, the color drained from his cheeks slightly as he observed his band mate beside him, head nodding in sleep. Mark watched him in silence, the familiarity of his face such that he knew it by heart. The strong, leader façade that he had grown used to seeing on his friend’s face had vanished, Mark had watched it melt away on a stage in New York. And yet, this was how he remembered Matthew the most, in those few stolen moments. He saw the face that he had clamped eyes on that day in the street years ago, the face of God, he had foolishly thought then. Matthew had always been uncomfortable in his role as savior, but for Mark, it represented the defining moment in his life. Like Saint Paul on the road to Damascus, Matthew had been the bolt of lightening that struck the truth into him, spiritually and personally. He was the one to let Mark know that he was not alone.
Matthew’s shoulders shrugged slightly, and his eyes fluttered open. Mark was caught off guard and he smiled bashfully, brushing the hair out of his eyes with the tips of his fingers and looked away for a moment. A grin tugged at the corners of Matthew’s mouth, and he disguised it with a yawn, reaching out to gently ruffle Mark’s hair before scratching his chest and glancing out the window. Mark followed his gaze across the parking lot and into the convenience store. He could see the outlines of Juan and Abraham at the register and the top of Luke’s cap-covered head from behind an aisle of snack foods. Matthew pulled his cell phone out from the drink holder beside him and flipped it open. An iridescent blue light flooded the features of his face before he quickly shut the phone and the two of them were left alone in the shadowed darkness created by the overhang outside.
An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them, and Mark sighed softly and began to trace the patterned upholstery on the seat in front of him with his index finger. He was very much aware of the fact that Matthew had spoken very little since their show last night when Sony had insisted they return home to Ohio in a cheap rental van. Luke, Juan, and himself had welcomed the van with a laugh, while Abe and Matthew had shared a solemn look, one that Mark was unable to decipher. He was surprised to find that he was not at all shaken up from the night’s drama. He could recall how Abraham’s words had cleared a fog that had seemingly been blinding him from maintaining his true path, but he had to believe that that was what was supposed to happen. Everything happens for a reason. Isn’t that what people were always telling him? Matthew cleared his throat as if he would speak and Mark turned his head to look back at his friend’s troubled face and wondered if maybe it was not that simple.
Matthew’s eyes met Mark’s at last and his lips formed a small frown. “I’m... sorry—” he began to say. His voice was hushed and raspy. Mark cocked his head to the side, inquisitively arching his eyebrows, but said nothing. Internal struggle was a cruel circumstance that Mark understood too well. It had been his experience that many people in the world were going to hate you, whether for your beliefs or for who you are. But only the hatred for yourself and the retched imbalance it places upon your spiritual and emotional equilibrium is ten thousand times worse than any amount of harsh words or Nair. As Mark looked over at Matthew, he felt as if he could almost see the weight of his shame resting on his shoulders, and for a moment, Mark thought he saw a glimpse of his twelve-year-old self in his leader. The image both frightened him and encouraged him at the same time. Matthew’s eyes narrowed slightly and one brow raised as if he knew what his younger friend had been thinking.
“I’ve never been at a crossroads before… I have always known where I was going and never had to second guess it.” He paused for a very brief moment and his brows furrowed together. “My first real test of faith, and I have failed it miserably.” Mark sat there motionless as Matthew continued to speak, long, winded sentences that fell out of his mouth as if they had been teetering there on the tip of his tongue for days. He spoke of betraying his friends, but the tone in his voice suggested that he felt he had betrayed himself as well.
Mark felt a twinge of guilt for not feeling such passionate anger toward himself, or even at Matthew for what he had almost done. Perhaps it was because his solo deal confession that night had not come as a surprise, though an overheard phone conversation several weeks before had. But even then, it had seemed like the right thing to do. Because it was Matthew. Somehow that fact had made it all seem okay. He knew now that he was wrong. But looking into Matthew’s troubled eyes, he thought that maybe things really were far simpler than what his worried friend was clinging to. He chose his words carefully. "If it weren't for Judas, Christ would never have died for our sins, right? So in a certain way, Judas did the right thing, didn't he?"
Matthew blinked and then shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips. “That’s the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”
Mark grinned and sighed heavily. “You of all people should realize, Matthew, everything happens for a reason. Good or bad, it’s all part of God’s plan. My childhood was a living nightmare, but everyday I am grateful for those Episcopalian thugs. Without their torments and ridicule, you would never have been there to save me. Heaven knows where I would be without you.” He paused for a moment and cast his eyes toward the back of the seat in front of him, his cheeks blushing a rosy shade of pink. “I just meant that only out of darkness can there be light. And you may think that you have strayed from your path, but maybe you’ve really just hit a poorly illuminated section.”
Matthew did not say a word in response, but let a small smile inch onto his face. He bowed his head slightly and placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder, leaning forward as if he would whisper a secret into his ear, but instead pulled Mark into a tight embrace. It was Matthew who pulled away moments later, and when he did, Mark noticed that the familiarity he had always clung to in his eyes was gone. It was replaced by something different, almost as if his eyes had turned a lighter shade of brown, and he thought he could see something that resembled pride hidden inside. Matthew opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the opening of the van doors. Any moment that might have been shared between the two of them vanished, and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that Mark looked away as Matthew retracted his arms from their embrace.
Three bodies hopped inside and the ambience of the van changed dramatically. Juan dodged a bag of potato chips as it whizzed past his head, landing with a smack on the empty space that had formed between the two of them. Mark put on a smile for Luke, who had draped his body over the passenger’s seat like a blanket and was grinning broadly at the occupants of the back seat. Abe reached over and tugged forcefully on the back of his shirt, and Luke disappeared behind the seat muttering something about Matthew and Clay Aiken before Abe burst out laughing and started the van. The warm sensation quickly made its way back to Mark’s cheeks, and he found that his smile had faded into a genuine one. Grabbing the bag of chips, he pulled it open and took a chip for himself before turning to offer one to Matthew. His friend was wearing a smile that matched his own, and as his hand reached into the bag, Mark realized that he had never felt like part of a family more than he did at that very moment.
- February 21, 2006
