Chapter Text
Mar. 8
I’ve always been a strong believer in the saying ‘nothing is more powerful than words.’ Whether they be spoken, written,-- whether they are a hushed whisper, a scream across a room, a scribble on a scrap of paper, or elegant calligraphy against pristine white paper– No matter what language, what age the person creating them is, their background, their story, their name– I believe that every word someone produces is a gateway into their soul. Think about it– those noises or shapes that we call letters and words formed in that person's brain, and they chose to share them with us.
This is why I have always been a huge fan of books and writing. Ironically enough, as I am writing this right now. I have started dedicating at least an half hour of time to writing each day. I find it therapeutic and important. Everyone should write. Although, when I mentioned this decision and philosophy to Terzo, he just called me a nerd. Asshole. Anyways, as of this very moment I am sitting out in the ministry gardens on a rickety old bench that is pressed against the stone walls of the ministry. It is really hurting my back, but at least I have a good view. The view I speak of goes out over all of the gardens. A large tree blocks most of the view, but I cannot complain. The tree is beautiful as well. Despite~~
“Shit–” He scoffed. A few drops of water had fallen across his page, more specifically right where he was writing, effectively smudging his perfect ink writing. He frowned, trying to fix the smudge, but his thumb just dragged the black– now graying ink further down his page.
The brother of sin sighed. He didn’t realize it was going to start raining. Actually– now that he thought about it– it was not in fact raining. That was when another sprinkle of water came down onto him– it wasn’t a lot of water by any means, but enough that he could feel it on the top of his head. What was that? A leak? Maybe just leftover rainwater from the hang over of the ministry’s roof.
He was almost too scared of getting water on his face to look up– but he made himself do so. He felt his head bump against the rough stone wall of the ministry as his head tilted upwards. He was rudely greeted with a very unfortunately familiar sight. There, on one of the higher ministry windows sat a man, staring down at the brother. Spotting that man instantly hit the brother with a range of emotions– spanning all the way from irritation to fondness.
The man wore a smug grin on his face, his black-gloved hand hanging out of the window. His other arm was bent so his chin could perch on his fist. That hanging hand of the man was most definitely where the water came from. The brother couldn’t see much more of that from this angle, other than the shining of the grucifix that the man wore around his neck, also dangling out of the window.
But what business would someone– a clergy member no less– have with splashing water on a helpless sibling of sin? Well, that clergy member just so happened to be nobody else than Cardinal Terzo. Terzo was notorious for being a bit rowdy– in the sense that if he wasn’t annoying someone, partying or avoiding his paperwork at all costs– he would surely be dead.
The brother scoffed and glared up at the cardinal. He stood up and set his journal aside, shutting it with a snap. That page was already ruined anyway. The brother took a few steps back to get a better angle of viewing the man in the window.
“Was that you with the water!?” he had to yell pretty loud to be heard from all the way up there. The ministry was a rather tall building. The cardinal stretched his head out the window, cupping his hand behind his ear in an ‘I can't hear you’ signal. The brother let out a soft growl under his breath in annoyance.
“YOU!” he yelled, pointing up at the cardinal. He then made a flicking motion with his hand, representing spraying water on someone.
“WATER?”
The Cardinal still wore that stupid smirk on his face. He dramatically pointed at himself, as if to say ‘ME?’, before shrugging, as if so exasperated by the question.
The brother gritted his teeth, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
“Get down here, Terzo!” he yelled, pointing down at his feet.
“And why should I?” the cardinal lifted his hand by his mouth to project the sound downwards.
The brother groaned
“So I can talk to you!”
“So you can beat the shit out of me? I think not!” The Cardinal was now sitting precariously on the ledge of the window, his hand gripping the edge of it.
“I could just come find you and do that all the same.”
Terzo laughed, sliding back fully inside of the building.
“Good luck with that!”
Before the brother could respond, Terzo was already long gone, disappearing somewhere in the building, out of the brother's sight. Now it was his turn for a little smirk to grow on his face. He would go find that stupid cardinal.
__
His shoes were a soft thud against the tile floors of the ministry. His head turned down every hall. He was determined to find his cardinal.
“There!” he hissed under his breath, seeing the end of a cassock disappear down the corner of a hall he had just glanced down. The brother's steps picked up as he ran down the hall and turned a sharp corner.
“Got you!” The brother exclaimed as he wrapped his arms tightly around the Cardinal, effectively trapping him from any movement.
“AGH– Let go of me you freak!” Terzo grunted, writhing around in the brother’s grip, but he couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. This was typically how their interactions were. Ever since they were kids. One of them would bother the other until they spent the rest of the day either chasing each other around the ministry or bickering endlessly. They would be lying if either of them said they didn’t enjoy it. It was a highlight of the week or day. It had slowly become weekly as they grew older– their jobs became more taxing and they had slowly grown more busy.
“Not until you admit I win. I think I did some pretty good work tracking you down so fast.”
Terzo groaned.
“Over my dead body.”
“So be it.” The brother kept one of his arms firmly around the cardinal's waist, their bodies pressed tightly against each other, and wrapped his other arm around Terzo’s neck in a playful choke. He would obviously never for-real choke the other man.
“H–” The cardinals hands gripped the brothers wrists, trying to pry his arms off of him
“Okay, okay you win! Stronzo!” His voice came out strained.
“What was that?” the brother tightened his grip
“You win, you win!” The brother chuckled, finally fully releasing Terzo from his grip.
“That wasn’t too hard, was it?”
“All of that because of some water droplets? I didn't realise you were so sensitive about that diary of yours.” Terzo mocked, adjusting his perfect cassock back into place.
“It's not a diary, it's a journal.” the brother frowned. He suddenly froze and lifted his arms slightly, as if checking for something.
“Agh– Satan– I left my journal down on that bench–..” He groaned in annoyance and shot terzo a deadly glare.
“Oh, don't look at me like this is my fault.
“It so is.” the brother muttered, starting to turn away from terzo.
“Don’t be so pouty. I don’t want your next diary entry about me.” Terzo snickered.
The brother scoffed.
“Shut up, Terzo.”
Terzo’s voice lightened slightly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
The brother glanced outside, realized the sun was in fact setting. His back was still turned to the cardinal, but he glanced back slightly. Something about the softness of the cardinals voice in that moment pulled on the brother's heartstrings.
“Goodnight.” The brother couldn't help but let a small smile creep over his face as he said those simple words. He really did hope he saw him tomorrow.