Blasphemy - Minchan

3// I know a thing about contrition.

"And what did God say in John 3:16?" A monk at the front of a small classroom addressed the students at their desks. He paced back and forth in front of the blackboard, a bible in one hand and a long ruler in the other.

The desks were arranged in rows of two, each desk sitting one student with five rows extending from the front of the class to the back. The monk pointed to a boy at the front of the class, the only one with his hand in the air. "Yes, Seungmin?"

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."

"Well done," their monk's lips curled into a smile, "the next question is for the new student on the back row." Minho looked up from the pen he'd been staring at as the extended ruler was pointed at him. "What will happen to those who don't believe in the word of God?"

"Uh... hell?"

"Correct," the man agreed, lowering the ruler, "and do you believe in his word, Minho?"

Chan's head turned up. He was sitting on the desk beside Minho and begged him to say yes with his eyes, but Minho wasn't looking in his direction. Instead, he said, "in God? No."

"Just what I expected," the monk muttered, much to Chan's surprise. He'd excepted shouting and explosiveness from such a blasphemous answer, not the calm one Minho received. "You refuse to believe that God is the one who has given you this life. It's disappointing really."

"Well, he can take it back whenever he wants," Minho muttered under his breath. Nobody was supposed to hear but from the way the entire class stilled, he realised they had. Pure anger shone in the eyes of the monk so suddenly.

"You ungrateful child!" His voice raised, slapping the ruler on the edge of the table. Chan jumped but he'd expected the anger would come sooner or later.

Minho turned to look at him with a furrowed brow to which Chan whispered, "please stop it."

"Why? I'm allowed to spe-" Minho cut himself off with a gasp as the wooden ruler collided with his hand upon the desk. He looked up with a face full of horror as the stinging sensation took over his palm. "What the fuck? You can't do that! That's- that's illegal!"

"So is taking drugs and underage drinking but your lovely mother told us you're rather privy to that."

Minho looked around the classroom, expecting to see faces as shocked as his own. Nobody looked as if anything out of the ordinary had happened. Chan was the only one who had reacted but not with shock. His head was down and his hands were clasped together as if he was praying. Nobody else could see the tears welled in his eyes, only Minho, but Minho was soon back to shouting at the teacher. "You can't hit me with a ruler! I can report you-"

Another slap was delivered to Minho's hand, pain spreading like wildfire. "Motherfucker!" he yelled, flailing his hand around and looking like he was on the verge of snapping. He looked one hit away from launching at the monk but instead, he yelled, "you dickhead!"

"That's it," the teacher grabbed a fistful of Minho's hair and forced him up to his feet. Minho cried out as he dragged him towards the door. "Father Wilson will be meeting you a lot sooner than expected," he said, forcing Minho out into the corridors despite him trying to break free from his grasp. It only hurt him more.

Everyone in the classroom remained silent as they disappeared. Everyone except Chan who was trying not to draw attention to himself in the back seat, but it was a little hard with tears falling from his eyes.

-

Chan sat in the corner of his bed, legs pulled up to his chest. He'd been gently rocking back and forth since he left his second lesson, telling the teacher he felt sick. He was given permission to go back to his room but not without a stern reminder that it was no excuse for not turning up to the evening prayer session. That was two hours ago now. He hadn't moved from his space once, staring at the thick, wooden door in front of him with glossy eyes.