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The freezing air outside was a welcome change from the stuffy, sweltering insides of the airport. Though maybe Aldo Bellini’s nerves were more responsible for the shortness of breath and the bothersome hot-and-cold flashes than the actual temperature indoors was.
The cardinal buttoned up his greatcoat against the piercing wind, grabbed his suitcase and started walking to the nearby bus stop, keeping a brisk pace even though he still had some time left until his departure. The ice cold knot that had been churning in his stomach and bothering him the whole flight was, annoyingly, still there.
It was dark outside - the light-polluted sky was a murky shade of greyish-brown. Aldo hadn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep on his three-hour flight, and he assumed the bus ride wouldn’t be any different.
His assumptions were proven correct soon enough. The lights in the bus were switched off upon departure, and the quiet hum of the engine and slight rocking of the vehicle could rock anybody to sleep - and yet Aldo felt like he’d just chugged a coffee on an empty stomach. Though the ride was multiple hours long, it somehow felt even longer - and with every hour, the gnawing icy cold dread in his stomach got worse.
Cardinal Benítez - His Holiness Pope Innocent XIV as of recent - hadn’t needed much convincing to grant Aldo Bellini his leave. In fact, he was the one who’d convinced Bellini to go, in a way. Aldo was still angry at himself - he simply shouldn’t have mentioned anything to Benítez. But, alas, he had - and before he knew it, His Holiness was drafting plans, giving him official assignments to do while away, scheduling flights. This guy’s good, Aldo thought with a tinge of irritation. Now that his trip included official Curia business, he actually had to go.
“Your Holi-, Vincent, I wasn’t actually intending on going-”, he had tried to protest, watching helplessly as his newly appointed superior started rustling through his documents, in that almost frighteningly energetic way that Aldo was still getting used to. Vincent Benítez, it seemed, possessed the magical ability to do 10 things at a time.
Vincent had looked up at him from his papers, that same soft smile on his lips as usual. As if nothing’s wrong at all . “Well, you expressed the interest, so I think you should go! And I hope you’ll forgive me for misusing your trip for some official business.” The Pope chuckled apologetically. “Besides, I understand how you feel. We do all miss our Dean terribly.”
As he said those words, Aldo saw something change in Vincent’s eyes - he still had that gentle smile on, but his eyes were serious. Uneasily, he held the dark-haired man’s gaze, for what felt like an eternity.
You and me both .
That damned pit in his stomach was back again. Aldo felt like throwing up.
_________________
As the bus slowly pulled into its final destination, Bellini still hadn’t slept. The bus heating was working overtime and the air inside was suffocatingly warm - and yet the cardinal was freezing. He groggily got together his things and exited the bus, feeling pitiful somehow, like one of those birds being fished out of an oil leak. It didn’t help that, in the remote northern British countryside, a Catholic cardinal from Rome was an unusual sight to say the least. Aldo had probably never felt quite so out of place before. He felt every stare he received, practically digging into him. Maybe that was just the lack of sleep, though.
From here onwards, it was another short bus ride - and then, some walking. As Bellini ascended up the hill, following the directions of some good samaritan he’d asked at the last bus station, he felt like he was walking to his own execution. Lord, I beg of you, grant me the strength .
To face him , an annoying little thought crept into his head. Bellini shook it off, irritated.
As the cardinal approached the cottage, he couldn’t help but double-check if he had the correct address. Thomas Lawrence’s new home was unexpectedly compact - it was just about well-kept enough to qualify as a cottage rather than a hut. It was charming, Aldo supposed, but it didn’t exactly seem comfortable. Maybe that was the idea in the first place. The man has always had an affinity for self-punishment , a thought nagged, just on the edge of his mind. Bellini was irked by himself for even thinking it. His friend was a better man than him by miles. Maybe it was Aldo who should have taken a page out of his book.
As Bellini approached the cottage and used the heavy, tarnished-metal door knocker, there seemed to be no response. After he had made a couple of unsuccessful attempts, however, he heard a low voice, with that accent Aldo knew so well, coming from somewhere behind the house: “Just a second, I will be right there!”
Aldo hurriedly stepped away from the door, embarrassed, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. As he stood still, listening for the footsteps approaching him from behind the house, the sudden realization hit him with an icy pang - he was about to see Thomas Lawrence again for the first time in a year.
Aldo felt sick to his stomach.
Before he could compose himself, there he was, turning the corner around the cottage hurriedly. His old friend looked thinner than the last time he’d seen him - haggard, even. The characteristic folds between his brows that always appeared when Lawrence was lost in thought had gotten even deeper. His face seemed harder, somehow, as if constantly clouded by worry. Underneath those furrowed brows, however, Aldo was happy to see that his friend’s eyes were still the same - greyish-blue, sharp, and earnest, almost painfully so. Bellini had always found himself a bit nervous under Cardinal Lawrence’s gaze, and yet he had missed it, all the same.
After a short eternity just staring each other down, Lawrence finally stirred: “Oh, hello Aldo. I didn’t expect you so early, the local buses usually travel with a delay.” He smiled gingerly, his ever-furrowed brows turning the smile into an almost tortured expression. Bellini responded in turn, with a nervous, spasm-like sort of non-smile. “Hi, Thomas. Apologies, I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“Oh, not at all, not at all.” They stood still for a second, awkwardly, before Thomas finally stepped forward to properly greet Bellini. Aldo hastily reciprocated, pulling his old friend into a hug. As Lawrence let out a barely audible little “oof”, the cardinal embarrassedly realized he may have embraced him too tightly. He loosened his grip, chasing off a passing thought about how wiry and small his old friend felt in his arms.
Thomas gave Aldo a gentle pat on the shoulder as he stepped back, a slight smile on his lips as he looked at the cardinal.
“You can leave your luggage in the house. Shall we take a walk?”
_____________________
The scenery of Thomas Lawrence’s new home was undoubtedly beautiful, despite the miserable late-fall weather and the overcast skies. Seemingly endless rolling hills as far as the eye could reach - Aldo caught himself thinking that, if he found just the right location where all houses and signs of life were obscured or out of sight, he could imagine that he was the only living soul for miles.
For a while, all him and Thomas did was just walk, gazing out at the countryside, squinting against the gusts of cold wind. Bellini had trouble getting used to the sight of his old friend in regular clothing. In his nondescript, earthy-toned clothing and olive green huntsman-like jacket, he looked just like a retired professor enjoying his vacation in the countryside, or perhaps a poet. Green suits him , Aldo thought. Next to his friend, he felt oddly formal, sheepishly trying to keep the hem of his plain black cassock out of the mud. He had already accepted that his shoes wouldn’t make it out unscathed.
“This is my favorite walk route.” Thomas turned back to Aldo, letting out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle. “Northern Britain’s best-kept secret. Apologies about the mud, though - it rained just yesterday.”
Bellini brushed him off, suddenly embarrassed of himself: “No, no, don’t worry about it. I’m enjoying myself, and the clothing will live.” They pressed on, towards a cluster of houses in the distance, smoke billowing from the chimneys, a window lit up here and there.
Aldo looked over to Thomas: “So, what does your day-to-day look like here?”, he asked, trying hard to keep pace with his friend. Anything but more weird silence .
Thomas glanced back at the cardinal once again: “Well, I have been enjoying my research position, as you know. I’ve been studying the word of God again, which has been wonderful. I volunteer in the town, usually in their library - it’s been indispensable for my work. I may also start teaching at the local school, though I’m not entirely sure about that yet. I garden, when my joints allow me to, and I go on long walks, again, when I’m able.”
The former cardinal smiled at Aldo, but once again, somehow a smile made him look even more like a tortured animal. “It sounds peaceful.”, Bellini responded, letting his gaze drift across the countryside and the nearby village. Smart choice, too - Anglican country, nobody’d particularly care about a former Catholic cardinal right next door .
Thomas chuckled quietly, turning away from Bellini once again as they walked on: “It has its moments. It leaves room for contemplation.”
Bellini asked, perhaps before he’d allowed himself time to think about his question properly: “Do you spend most of your time alone?”. Great, Aldo, go straight for the personal questions. Do you want to make him feel judged?
Thomas gave a light shrug, keeping his gaze forward: “Yes, usually, except when I’m volunteering. The library doesn’t get many visitors either, though.”
There was something about the way Lawrence responded to that question, Bellini couldn’t quite place it. When his old friend confirmed he was alone most of the time, he sounded almost relieved.
“Well, I’m sure you do get some social interaction - I know some of our Vatican friends still write to you a bunch.” Bellini regretted saying it right as it came out of his mouth - he himself hadn’t managed to write his old friend a single letter. This was not for a lack of trying; However, all his letters just turned out long-winded and terribly pathetic-sounding, and he couldn’t bear to send any of them.
“Yes, actually, they do.” A soft chuckle once again escaped Lawrence’s lips, and his entire demeanor seemed to soften a bit with it - it was visible even from his back. Bellini suddenly felt an unwanted pang of displeasure. Well yes, I’m sure you enjoy HIS letters plenty.
In the past year, Aldo Bellini had discovered within himself a particularly nasty jealous streak - and he hated himself for it. He’s your friend, Aldo. Get it together.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been writing to you, Thomas.”, he blurted out before he could control himself, immediately inwardly scolding himself for it. Don’t be pathetic. The ship has sailed, you just couldn’t do it, why act all sorry about it now? “I just…didn’t know if there was anything I could say that would make it all better. I hoped there was. I couldn’t think of it.”
He stopped where he stood, without even noticing it at first. Somebody’d set fire to the knot inside his stomach, and it was starting to burn unbearably hot.
Thomas looked back at Aldo over his shoulder, turning just enough for those painfully earnest, serious blue eyes to meet the cardinal’s gaze. Bellini had trouble looking the man in the eye - he felt the tips of his ears getting warm with shame. I don’t even want to know what color my face is right now.
“Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”, his old friend murmured, mustering a small smile. It seemed tense, a twitch of the lips, really - but the folds between his brows loosened slightly, lifting the ever-present shadow from his eyes. They looked tired - Aldo could properly see the bags under Thomas’ eyes now.
The man turned away from him again, the little smile still on his lips - but his shoulders were tense, and his gait was heavier now, wearier. They spent the rest of the walk in silence, Bellini obsessively noting his old friend’s every gesture, every expression, searching for…the Lord only knows what.
I can’t bear this distance.
Well, this is your own fault. So what are you hoping for now?
Truth be told, I’m hoping for him to turn towards me again, and for things to be as they were.
Don’t be naïve. He might’ve forgiven you, but things can never be truly as they were. You’ve done damage to his perception of you that can’t be repaired.
Lord, please just let him turn towards me again.
Bellini noticed he’d been clenching his jaw. So hard, it was starting to give him a headache.
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When they got home, it was just about lunchtime. They quietly prepared a simple meal, Bellini darting around the kitchen, attempting to be of assistance, sometimes just being in the way. He felt like a dog begging for scraps. Humiliating .
They had to improvise with the dishes - Thomas mostly just had one of each. It seemed he hadn’t planned on receiving any guests. Aldo ended up eating his lunch out of a soup bowl. He watched his friend pick at his own meal unenthusiastically.
They spent the rest of the day finding any way to not talk too much - Thomas proudly showed Aldo his little garden, they looked at his current work, perused some of the books he had on loan. The former cardinal’s home was as modest from the inside as it seemed from the outside - sorely lacking in decor, with simple, ascetic furnishings. The only flourishes in the dwelling were the small, rustic fireplace, the bookshelf (well-stocked with Thomas’ personal collection) and the patchwork curtain concealing the simple wooden bed in the corner. The walls were a dull, oppressive shade of beige.
Aldo followed Thomas around everywhere, going along with whatever his friend went to do next, practically tiptoeing around him, around any conversation topics that were too difficult.
The entire time, however, he couldn’t help but keep glancing at the small, neat stack of opened letters on Lawrence’s tiny work desk. It drove him insane just looking at them. The pack of wolves inside his stomach was clearly intent on clawing its way out of him.
As it grew darker outside, the two of them decided against a full dinner, instead just sharing some bread and whatever Thomas had in the fridge. Lawrence got a small fire going in the fireplace, and the living room quickly got toasty warm as they settled down on the deflated-looking small couch.
Thomas briefly stepped away to rummage in his pantry, finally emerging with a small, pained groan as he straightened up and pulled out a small bottle of wine. “I got this when V- when I got news of your visit”, he murmured with a shy smile, fetching a singular dusty wine glass from a kitchen cabinet and carrying it to the couch. Giving the glass an embarrassed glance, he wiped it down with a kitchen towel before setting it on the little end table next to the couch.
Aldo couldn’t help but latch onto that “V”.
“I apologize, my friend, I also happen to only have one wine glass.”, Thomas mumbled, looking down at the wine bottle in his hand. He somehow seemed even smaller right now. The deep furrow between his brows was back.
Bellini brushed him off, mustering a smile: “Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s really not a big deal. You have the glass, I can take a cup, or drink from the bottle or something! You know, they say it’s never too late to take a walk on the wild side.”, he joked. When his half-hearted little quip got a quiet chuckle, Aldo felt a pleasant warmth spreading through his chest. The vicious stomach ache that had been bothering him for most of the day loosened a bit.
Thomas shook his head as he carefully, a bit awkwardly, unscrewed the cork, pouring a conservative measure of wine: “You’re not drinking from the bottle in my home. We can just share this glass - would that be okay?”
Aldo nodded: “That’s alright by me.”, feeling that damn warmth spreading through his ears again. Ugh. Get a grip. Hopefully he’ll think it’s the heat from the fire. Or the wine.
Thomas sat down next to him on the couch, hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees, quietly tilting the wine glass back and forth, swirling the wine within almost meditatively. For a little while, they sat in silence, watching the fire, passing the wine glass back and forth.
As Lawrence was filling up the glass for the second time, Aldo finally gathered the courage to ask: “Thomas, I’m sorry if this question is too personal, but…why didn’t you go to a convent? I thought that was your plan, originally. I didn’t even know you were leaving entirely until the last minute.”
Lawrence paused for a second, the wine bottle still in his hand, just about to lean down and pick up the refilled glass. He had his back turned towards Aldo, but the cardinal could guess from the way his posture changed - he had probably just set his jaw, the way he usually did when something made him worried, or nervous. Bellini could swear he could see the hair on the back of the man’s neck rise.
When the cardinal was just about to start apologizing for having asked the question, Thomas finally unfroze, sitting down on the couch with a heavy sigh, the wine in the glass splashing dangerously close to the rim. Looking at his friend, Bellini saw just how defeated he looked. His appearance had something of a deflated balloon. Aldo’s heart ached.
“I’ve…”, the former cardinal let out a deep sigh. His gaze was fixated on the flames dancing inside the fireplace. Bellini could see the muscles twitching underneath the man’s furrowed brows. “I’ve noticed this…terribly ugly bitterness within myself.” He looked down at his hands, nervously rolling the wine glass stem between his hands. The wine was dangerously close to spilling all over the floorboards.
“After the conclave, after we elected Vincent, I realised something - for the past Lord knows how many years, all I’d done is compare . Compare myself to others, compare others to some ideal or other. And God knows, I have judged. Oh, how much time I’ve spent scrutinizing others, their behavior, their piousness. And when I felt like I’d lost my connection with God…all of it came back to haunt me.”
After we elected Vincent. He doesn’t even hide it anymore. Bellini silently cursed at himself. Shut up and listen.
“I felt like I had my failure of faith painted all over me. I felt it everywhere, all the time. When I was alone; When I was surrounded by others. And the more responsibility was thrust into my hands, the more acutely I felt it. I felt so…rotten inside. I still do. I felt I couldn’t bear the embarrassment of so many disappointed eyes on me, any longer.”
He took a sharp, quick sip of wine and passed the glass to Bellini. The cardinal held onto it with both hands, turning to face his old friend as he listened - trying to push back the shameful realization of how close to each other they were really sitting. After a short silence, Thomas continued: “Believe me, I am ashamed. It eats away at me every day. No matter how hard I try and pretend that I’m making up for it - I abandoned my faith and my duty before the Lord. All because I couldn’t bear the thought of better people than me, more faithful people, expecting a virtuous former cardinal to join them and meeting me instead. Utterly rotten, judgmental to the core, completely engrossed in politicking and petty squabbles. Serving anything but the Lord himself”.
The vein on his temple was pulsating, the one that always made itself known when he was angry or frustrated. A fine, barely visible twitch ran across his nose. His upper lip was quivering, ever so slightly. Lawrence’s face looked as if it was about to crumple like a piece of paper. He looked utterly… disgusted with himself. Aldo held back the sudden, childish urge to scoop him up in another far-too-tight embrace.
Instead, he reached out, gingerly placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It felt cold and tense under his palm. “Thomas, my dear friend, you…place standards on yourself that are entirely too high.”
And he has those exact standards for others, too. That’s why he walked away from you at the first sign of disappointment. Of course, what else would he do, when that literal angel on Earth walked through the door. First he worshipped you, now he worships him.
Admit it, your ego thoroughly enjoyed somebody looking up to you like that. You loved it. And then you went and messed it all up.
Aldo would do anything for Thomas to look at him like that again. Eyebrows raised slightly, still with their characteristic touch of melancholy, but letting the light shine on those clear blue eyes. Lips pulled apart in that shy, slight smile. The soft crow’s feet forming at the sides of his face. Bellini feared that expression was reserved for somebody else now.
At least he’s here now. Maybe it’s for the best that nobody can have him.
Bellini angrily brushed away the thought, practically physically shaking it off, which earned him a puzzled look from Lawrence. The cardinal let out a deep sigh, taking a brisk sip of wine, and continued, passing the glass to his friend: “Plenty of worse men than you have stayed in the Curia all their life, utterly unwilling to do any self-examination, vehemently convinced that they are the holiest thing that ever did walk the Earth. I would know, I am one of those men!”. He let out a dry chuckle - it rang hollow, felt utterly insincere.
“The Curia needs more men like you, Thomas. The late Holy Father may have made a mistake in referring to you merely as a manager; What you truly possess is an incredible instinct for people. You have incredible intuition, you see men for who they are. And what’s more, you do all that whilst having the humility to examine yourself closely, to remain critical of yourself. Please trust my judgment on this - we’ve spent decades practically joined at the hip, Thomas. I have a hard time putting the true extent of my admiration for you into words.”
Yes, joined at the hip is about right. And oh, the things we used to do together.
They were closer now, concerningly so. Without really meaning to, Aldo had lowered his voice to a humiliatingly raspy whisper - Lord Almighty, he couldn’t stop it from quivering. As if he was a schoolboy reading out a love confession. Good God, grant me the strength and virtue…
…to not do anything stupid.
“Aldo, I…” Thomas’ eyes glazed over. The barely noticeable quiver of his lip grew into a sharp tremble. Oh Heavens no, please don’t be sad-
Bellini stopped himself from what he truly wanted to do by scooping Lawrence up into a frantic, feverish hug. There was now definitely a splash of wine on the floor - hopefully not on the couch. Thomas was tense for a second, then he suddenly relaxed, almost went limp in Aldo’s arms, his forehead resting on his old friend’s shoulder.
Bellini held onto him tightly, realising perhaps a bit too late just how tightly he’d dug his fingers into Thomas’ back. In rapid succession, he registered a number of increasingly concerning things - their legs pressed tightly against each other, Thomas’ arms resting around his waist, his own hand on the back of his friend’s neck. The scent of his plain laundry detergent on his clothing. The faint tinge of some vaguely floral shampoo scent on his neck, just underneath his ear. Aldo’s face was burning up.
I think I’m going insane.
They must have sat like this for an eternity. Aldo wouldn’t have minded staying in the same position until the end of time, to be honest. Eventually Thomas stirred, however, slowly lifting his head and shifting away from Aldo, leaning against the back of the couch. He averted his gaze, fixated on some invisible detail of the ceiling. Bellini, flushed and embarrassed, didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore, fiddling with the now near-empty wine glass.
“I’m just saying, Thomas…”, he spoke up again, trying desperately to suppress that treacherous quiver in his voice. “You need to show yourself some grace, sometimes.” He leaned one arm on the back of the couch, letting his head rest on it. Thomas’ profile, lit sparingly by the fireplace, was as elegant as ever - he looked like a melancholic aristocrat. Lawrence stayed silent, but his lips pulled apart into an ever so slight smile.
Aldo continued, in a soft semi-whisper: “But, in a way, I am glad you don’t have to deal with Curia business anymore. Some of those men aren’t worth the ground you stand on.”
Thomas turned his head to his friend, exclaiming indignantly: “Aldo, those are your coworkers and brothers in faith, have some respect.” Still, an amused smile tugged at his lips.
He looked more relaxed than Bellini had seen him in years.
Aldo found himself wanting him to smile like that forever. And that warm, joyful gaze, with the flames’ reflections dancing in it like dappled sunlight, wouldn’t hurt either.
They sat around for a while, talking about everything and nothing. Before they realised it, the bottle of wine was empty - admittedly, Bellini may have drank more than Lawrence. His face was tinged with a pleasant warmth. He just felt so happy.
The raging pack of wolves in his stomach had quieted down.
At some point, he laid down, the pleasant warmth of the fireplace and the wine finally getting to him. He was half-asleep at this point, and the details were fuzzy - but he could have sworn his head was resting on something other than the couch’s cushions at one point. You shouldn’t be doing this, protested a faint voice within him; He, however, was in no condition to listen.
Then, through his half-asleep state, he felt his comfortable resting place move, a disembodied pair of hands picking up his head and gently placing it on the couch again. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to go back to the way it was…
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Despite his exhaustion, the warm fireplace and the wine, Bellini didn’t have a particularly relaxing night’s sleep. He kept waking up, in a sort of semi-conscious state - bits and pieces remaining in his memory, like a slideshow of images.
He remembered seeing Lawrence disappear behind the patchwork curtain, and desperately wanting to follow him.
Go. Get him out of that sensible little outfit he wears now. Come on. You know you want to.
He remembered tossing and turning, the couch too short for his lanky frame, too hot under the thick quilt that had been dutifully placed over him.
His stomach churning agonizingly - but with a different sensation this time.
What I wouldn’t do to touch him again.
He finally fell asleep when it was just starting to get light outside, bathed in cold sweat, curled up in a fetal position, arms wrapped around himself tightly.
The feeling, however, didn’t let up. Not in the next few days that they two spent together, and not afterwards. When they’d accidentally get too close to each other during one of their routine walks and brush shoulders; When they’d reach for the same item while cooking and their hands would touch; When they’d be sitting down and unwinding after dinner, the tiny couch altogether too small for them. In his feverish dreams, he saw one thing - himself opening that patchwork curtain and-
Lord Almighty, forgive me my trespasses. Forgive me for giving in to temptation and opening myself up to sin. For shaming my brother in faith by involving him in my trespasses. Grant me the strength, of mind and body, to prevail over this temptation.
________________________
When Cardinal Aldo Bellini left his old friend’s humble countryside home to tend to the official business the Holy Father had assigned him to, he was sleep-deprived and dishevelled - but he left with a feeling of inner peace that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Before departing, he left Thomas a letter - the first of many.