The announcement came without warning.
Late in the afternoon, the bell rang twice—an unusual signal that called all the seminarians to gather in the main hall. The long wooden benches quickly filled with murmuring students. Some looked confused, others curious.
At the front stood the rector and two priests.
The room slowly fell silent
The rector cleared his throat.
"My sons," he began, his voice calm but firm, "due to an urgent matter within the diocese, the seminary will close temporarily. A sudden vacation has been granted. All seminarians must return to their homes either this evening or early tomorrow morning."
For a moment the hall exploded with excitement.
Some boys clapped.
Others whispered happily about seeing their families again.
But Michael and Lucas did not celebrate.
Across the room, their eyes met.
Instead of excitement, a quiet sadness passed between them.
Weeks without seeing each other.
Weeks without hearing Lucas' voice echo through the chapel choir.
Weeks without those small secret moments that had become the center of Michael's world.
That evening the seminary felt strangely rushed.
Suitcases appeared everywhere.
Boys ran through the corridors packing books and clothes.
Michael folded his white shirts carefully inside his bag in the dormitory room. Sam was still away, so the room felt unusually quiet.
A soft knock came at the door.
Lucas stepped inside.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Lucas closed the door gently behind him.
"I guess this is happening too fast," Lucas said quietly.
Michael nodded.
Lucas moved closer and rested a hand lightly on Michael's shoulder.
"I'm going to miss seeing you every day," he admitted.
Michael looked down for a moment, then reached into his drawer.
From inside he pulled out something.
The thick wool socks Lucas had once given him on a cold night.
"I still have them," Michael said softly.
Lucas smiled.
"You actually kept them."
Michael held them carefully.
"They remind me of you."
Lucas looked at him in that deep, steady way that always made Michael's chest feel warm
"I told you something that night," Lucas said.
Michael looked up.
Lucas' voice softened.
"That I'm not leaving your side."
Michael swallowed quietly.
Then he reached into his bag again.
"I… got you something too."
He placed a small object into Lucas' palm.
It was a simple wooden rosary, smooth from careful polishing.
Lucas stared at it.
"You're serious?" he said quietly.
"My father bought it during a pilgrimage years ago," Michael explained. "I thought… maybe you should have it."
Lucas ran his thumb gently over the wooden beads.
"I'm keeping this forever," he said.
Lucas' eyes widened. He held it carefully, brushing his fingers over the smooth wooden rosary. "I… I love it," he said softly. Then, without thinking, he tucked it gently into the pocket of his robe, close to his heart.
The courtyard was silent except for the faint breeze that stirred the trees. Michael's suitcase still stood by the door, waiting. Every second that passed stretched like hours.
"I don't want to let go," Lucas murmured, moving closer. He leaned his forehead against Michael's for a long moment, just breathing in the warmth of him.
Michael closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the moment, the ache of parting. "I don't either," he whispered.
They lingered like that, pressed together, holding on to each other as if time could be suspended forever.
Later that night, Michael left the seminary.
Lucas walked with him as far as the large iron gate.
Other seminarians were leaving too, greeting their families, loading bags into vehicles.
But for Michael and Lucas the moment felt strangely quiet.
They stood facing each other.
They couldn't hug.
They couldn't say too much.
So they simply looked at each other for a long moment.
Finally, with a quiet sigh, Michael stepped into the waiting car. He looked back once, and Lucas pressed a hand to his lips, mouthing silently: I love you.
Michael's eyes filled with tears. He nodded, holding the image of Lucas in his mind as the car slowly pulled away.
And as Lucas watched him disappear down the road, he whispered to himself, almost as if promising to the wind:
"Distance can't touch us… not really. Not when I carry you in my heart."
Lucas watched the headlights disappear down the road.
The night suddenly felt colder.
Lucas left the next morning.
Before leaving, he paused in the courtyard.
The chapel stood silent, its tall cross rising against the pale sky.
For a brief moment, he glanced toward the dormitory building where Michael's room was.
Then he walked toward the gate.
The vacation began.
And suddenly the distance between them felt enormous.
But something else happened too.
Their phones almost never stopped lighting up.
Every few minutes, a message.
Lucas:
"Have you reached home?"
Michael:
"Just arrived. My mother already gave me too much food."
Lucas:
"Good. That means she loves you."
Michael:
"You sound jealous."
Lucas:
"Maybe I am."
Sometimes they spoke through voice notes.
Sometimes through video calls.
Often they called each other even when they had nothing important to say.
One evening they stayed on video call for almost an hour.
Lucas was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling.
Michael was sitting on the floor of his room.
Neither of them spoke.
But neither of them ended the call.
Michael's family began noticing the change.
Before this vacation, Michael had always been quiet.
He spent most of his time in his room reading books or sleeping.
But now…
He was always smiling at his phone.
During dinner he would suddenly laugh.
While sweeping the house he checked messages.
Even when walking outside or doing small chores he kept the phone close.
Always wearing the socks Lucas gift him.
His mother finally asked one evening,
"Who are you always talking to?"
Michael tried to stay calm.
"Just a friend from the seminary."
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"You never talked this much before."
Michael simply smiled and returned to his food.
At Lucas' house, something similar was happening.
Lucas' friends had gathered to play football in an open field near his home.
Lucas joined them.
But every few minutes his phone buzzed.
He would pause the game.
Check the message.
Smile.
Then quickly type a reply.
His friends stared at him.
"Who is that?" one of them asked.
Lucas shrugged casually.
"Just someone."
They exchanged looks.
"Is it a girl?"
Lucas laughed.
"Don't start."
They remained suspicious.
After all, Lucas was a seminarian.
He was not supposed to have a girlfriend.
One evening something happened that shook Michael deeply.
He was sitting beside his mother watching television.
A discussion program had begun.
The topic suddenly shifted to gay people.
The panel started debating.
Michael's mother immediately became interested.
"These people are destroying the world," she said sharply.
Michael stayed quiet.
Then the host on the television asked a question:
"If your child turned out to be gay, what would you do?"
Michael's mother stood up immediately.
"God forbid!" she exclaimed loudly. "It's better such a child never existed than to live in sin!"
The words struck Michael like a knife.
He quietly stood and walked to his room.
He didn't answer Lucas' messages.
His phone kept vibrating on the table.
But he ignored it.
Instead he knelt before the small crucifix hanging above his bed.
Tears began falling down his face.
"God…" he whispered. "Will someone like me still enter heaven?"
The door opened softly.
His sister stepped inside.
She looked at him kneeling there.
"What happened?" she asked gently.
Michael wiped his face quickly.
"Nothing."
She glanced at the phone on the bed.
It was ringing again.
Lucas calling.
She looked back at Michael.
"You should answer that," she said softly.
Michael hesitated.
She stepped closer.
"Listen to me," she said quietly. "God loves everyone. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."
The phone kept ringing.
Finally Michael picked it up.
"Hello."
Lucas' voice came immediately.
"Michael… are you okay?"
Michael forced a small smile.
"I'm fine."
Lucas was silent for a moment.
Then he said softly,
"You don't sound fine."
Michael didn't explain.
But Lucas stayed on the call with him anyway.
For a long time.
Later that night, as they continued talking, Lucas suddenly said something unexpected.
"You know," he began slowly, "we don't have to wait until the seminary opens again."
Michael frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
Lucas smiled.
"What if we meet somewhere during the vacation?"
Michael's eyes widened.
Lucas continued describing it.
A quiet place outside the city.
A small road leading through tall green hills.
Wild flowers growing near a narrow river.
Fresh air.
No crowds.
Just nature.
And the two of them.
For the first time that evening, Michael smiled.
And together they began planning a van vacation to a place where the world would be quiet enough for them to simply exist beside each other.