Okay guys, so this is my first JB oneshot. I'm scared to death about posting it. One shots in fandoms like this are totally not my thing. Nonetheless, I tried. I wouldn't really call it a song fic, but I did write it listening to "I Dare You" by SHeDAISY on repeat for an hour. So, you know, you can listen to the song while reading if you feel so inclined. Bleh...I'mma stop my nervous rambling now and just post it. :P
She sat in the last pew, the seat closest to the door. A girl of no more than sixteen with dirty blonde hair and grey eyes. It was always the same. She would come every Sunday night, slipping in minutes before the service began, a small bundle in her arms. Perhaps that little girl was just her excuse for hiding. If anyone had asked her, though no one ever did, she would have told them that she had to be ready to leave, for the baby, in case the baby needed something. She always fed her little girl before the two left for church. By the time they arrived, like clockworks, the child was sound asleep. Maybe it was just an excuse.
The young girl and her child were left unnoticed by the rest of the congregation. She was too ashamed of her situation, not the child, never the child. If they saw her, they would only look down upon the “outcast and her biggest mistake”. So she hid herself, if only for protection.
She had always gone to church. Every Sunday she sat and soaked in every word that echoed through the sanctuary. The only exception had been a period of ten months, after a night free of caution that lead to one devastating and somehow, miraculous, discovery. She had taken a month to herself after giving birth to recover. By the time she returned, everyone had forgotten about the poor little girl who now had a little girl of her own. She still heard whispers every once in a while, but other than the occasional murmurs, she went through life utterly invisible.
Or that’s how she believed it went. She never caught the sympathetic looks from the woman behind her at the supermarket. She never heard the gasps of shock from the group of cheerleaders standing at the street corner. She never noticed the stares from a pair of kind brown eyes sitting in the seventh pew.
Because he was there every Sunday, too. He came in late one Sunday, along with his brothers and saw a girl sitting in the seat near the back that was never occupied. He didn’t recognize her, but he watched her every Sunday. Walking in, she seemed lost and hopeless. Yet, he saw the way she hung off every word that rang from the pulpit. She hadn’t lost faith in God. She had just lost faith in people.
She hadn’t walked in expecting to be so affected by the sermon. The preacher spoke words of the shunned, the hated, the outcasts. He spoke of how Jesus came for them. She felt a tear trail down her cheek. She thanked God for that, but as she heard the collective “Amen’s” of the congregation, she couldn’t bear it. They sat in that church, putting on a mask of righteousness. They knew nothing of outcasts. Never had one hand reached out to her, one voice offered words of comfort. Only God had given her that. She broke down, in her own despair and in the ignorance of those around her. She just walked out of the church. She couldn’t listen to those people pretend like the understood. As soon as she reached the parking lot, she ran, cradling her baby girl in her arms.
She didn’t know that just like every Sunday, he was watching. He saw the sobs shake through her body. He saw the look of anger flash across her face. He saw her run. Seconds after she left, the next hymn began. He went to follow her. In the dark, he could see the silhouette off in the distance. He started jogging to catch up with her.
“Wait!” he called. The voice echoed in the night. She froze. “Don’t leave, please” His voice spoke again, pleading. The voice had startled the infant wrapped up in the blankets. She was crying now.
“Shhhhh. It’s gonna be alright, baby girl. Momma’s here.” She turned to the stranger. Under the faint light of the street lamp, she could see someone, a boy about her age with curly hair. Apprehensive, he approached her slowly.
“Why’d you leave? You always stay until the end of the sermon.”
She was taken aback. He sounded like he new who she was, like he saw her sitting there every Sunday.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but don’t pretend to know me. You couldn’t possibly know anything about why I had to walk out, so just go back inside. You’re wasting your time out here,” she said defensively.
He took a couple more small steps toward her.
“You’re right. I don’t know you. All I know is that you looked like you could use somebody before you bolted out of there.”
She could see the details of his face now. He had thick, curly brown hair. His eyes were a deep brown that seemed to bore into hers. She could tell he had a fit body under his dress shirt, but nothing could shake her more than those brown eyes.
Her voice shook, and she started to lose her resolve.
“Why do you care so much?”
It took him a second to answer her question. He wasn’t so sure that he knew the answer. He’d seen her sitting in the back of that church, and he saw more than just a hopeless case. He saw someone strong, desperate to cling on to something in her life. He saw someone beautiful that refused to leave the shadows. He had seen someone that he wanted to know.
“Because you come in every Sunday, and you’re the only one in the entire room that’s desperate for every word. You never give up. You want to be in there, listening to whatever the preacher has to say. You have this unwavering faith in God and his plans for you, but you have no faith left in the people around you.”
Had he seen that much of her? Was she that easy to read? Or was it something about this boy?
She desperately searched for answers. In between the rambling of her thoughts, she had begun to sob again. This time, she had nowhere to run. He stood there, holding her upright and catching every tear. As much as she wanted to push him away, she couldn’t. For the first time in a long time, someone was there. Someone had invaded her private world. Someone had broken down every barrier and fortification she had put around her heart.
As she cried, he saw a pair of shining gray eyes look up at him from amidst the fluffy pink blanket. She stared up in wonder, and the tiny, six month old girl smiled at him. Her mother saw this, and she laughed. She felt the emotion spill out from over her heart. He smiled when he saw the joy in her eyes and heard the giddiness in her laugh.
Maybe she had just lost all of her senses. She was standing outside with a complete stranger, laughing and crying with all of her heart. Perhaps that was it, her heart. In all this time, she had wanted someone to see her heart. He was standing in front of her. She wiped up the last of the tears. They wouldn’t come again tonight.
He looked down at the girl in front of him. He didn’t want to move too fast, but he knew that he had been falling for this girl for a long time. He didn’t know if he could take it slow. Courageously, he leaned down a couple of inches and lightly brushed his lips up against hers.
She couldn’t say she was surprised, nor could she say she was unhappy. She continued the kiss, scared that if she didn’t tell him it was okay now, he would walk away forever. The kiss wasn’t earth shattering, but she figured the earth was perfectly fine staying in one piece for now. It held promises of catching every tear that fell from that moment forward, making memories of laughing, and sitting in church every Sunday, never alone. Even if it wasn’t like in a movie, it was perfect to her.
The rest of the congregation came flooding out of the church. The kiss broke. She didn’t need any more of a reputation. She looked down, ashamed, but he beckoned over the rest of his family.
Names and introductions were exchanged, but she knew she would hardly remember any of it later, dazed and dizzy with emotion. Before she could object, she had been invited over to Sunday night dinner at his house, tonight, and then for the rest of the year. It took time, but she eventually warmed up to them. His wacky older brother who acted more like a preschooler. The other older brother, who was terribly sweet and became her protector. The littlest brother who was fascinated by her little girl, always wanting to hold the infant. Their father, who helped her to go back to school and find a job. Their mother, who took care of her constantly, who helped watch over her little girl, but no one in that picture perfect family could mean more to her than him. She sat in the seventh pew every Sunday now, right next to him. At some point, she figured out that she had never really been invisible.
