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Sometimes you wonder how you get yourself into these things.
Well, not exactly. You know how you get into these things: By allowing three men with deep-set affection for you and a tendency to meddle into your life. Not that you’d ever trade away their presence but it could get out of hand sometimes, for lack of better words
Your current predicament had started as a Doom call between you and Sister Imperator. A wellness check, she’d said, to see how you were settling into college. But Secondo, having caught word of your conversation and having a soft spot for you, had cleared his afternoon to join. Then it was Primo, who’d heard from the Ghouls and insisted he’d rearrange the stars to speak with you, never mind his schedule. And Terzo decided it was his duty as Papa to be there, which no one could argue with. So it became five of you on a call - until Sister Imperator decided five was three too many and hung up, making it less of a wellness check and more of a moment to catch up with your favorite adults.
(You suppose you’re an adult now, too. You'll have to think of a better way to refer to them.)
It’s not that you have an issue calling with the Papas. You began volunteer work in their church at fifteen and quickly became fond of them. You’re still fond of them, as are they of you. But you did intend to express some…doubts, to Sister Imperator. Speak about issues you weren’t sure the three men would understand.
The conversation starts off well. They speak over each other to tell of what’s happening in the Clergy and fawn over you, how much weight you’ve lost, seriously are they even feeding you there? Generally, you’re able to turn the conversation back to them when it tiptoes too close to discomforting topics. Lying never works - Secondo is particularly good at spotting the telltale signs - so you simply avoid answering questions as best as you can until Terzo outright asks the most dreaded, most encompassing one: How’s school going? You take a moment to collect yourself before answering.
“Bad. I hate it here.” You say truthfully. Spitefully. With no hint of hesitation or regret. The words are warm on your tongue as anger often is. Secondo’s brows raise, questioning the tone of your statement.
“Come now. You’re being dramatic.” He scoffs.
“I am not!”
“What is it you hate, hm? Do you not get along with your roommate? Dislike your classes?” You shake your head stubbornly. “Then what? Answer me: If not that, then what?”
You rack your brain for an excuse and come up empty. It’s not your roommate, it’s not your classes. Those have been just fine. There’s always the default answers - your RA or an overly strenuous professor, but those are the same as his suggestions: lies. And dishonest is the worst thing you can be to them. You're sure Secondo recognizes your defeat in the way you sigh, how your forehead wrinkles as you scrunch your nose. He looks at you expectantly.
“...Imissy’guys.” Silence, broken by your own groan of frustration. Would they really make you say it? The way Terzo stares says yes. “I miss you guys, okay? I’m awful at making friends and feel totally out of place on campus. I never wanted to go here in the first place, but my parents change the subject when I bring up transferring. It’s awful!”
The three brothers sit in momentary silence. Probably unsure what to say, you think. You knew they wouldn’t handle it like Sister Imperator would. At least she understood your hesitance - the brothers, who hadn’t been allowed the choice of choosing their own paths, had desperately pushed you to try college. If not for your parents, for them. How ironic. Finally, Primo speaks up.
“You’re homesick.” He says. His tone reeks of empathy. You can see pity welling behind his eyes. “The one thing we have no power over, unfortunately.”
It’s meant to be humorous, but you frown as he says it because he’s right. If you had a real problem - a class you didn’t want to take, an asshole roommate, or a dorm you didn’t feel at home in - Terzo and Sister Imperator could snap their fingers and have it rectified for you. You, their favorite little volunteer. You, their youngest devoted member. You, who they guard like their own child (and in a way, you are. All members of the church are children of Lucifer). Your parents may not agree with the church’s practices, but even they can’t deny that everything the Clergy does and offers to you has been out of affection. Not exploitation. Not like the branch of Christianity you were raised in.
You fiddle with your fingers. A repeated chant of don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry bangs around your head. Yeah, you’re homesick. There’s no better way to put it.
“Hey, don’t be looking so upset! You’re coming home for winter break - we’ll see you then. And there’s always Doom calls! Plenty of opportunities to talk, si?” Terzo butts in. Always the charmer. They’re busy men, though, and you know this won’t be as regular as he says. Today was a special exception. Still, you give a quiet si in response. Terzo, unconvinced, tries a different approach. “Why don’t you show us your dorm?”
“Sure, Papa.”
As you parade your computer around your bedroom, showing off the décor you’d so carefully picked out, you try to ignore the pangs in your chest. You miss the Papas. You aren’t sure you’ll really stop missing them. And with how excited Terzo seemed for you to return over break, you can’t bring yourself to reveal that you won’t be coming home. That was the whole point of your parents sending you out of state for school, after all - to keep you away from the influences, the Church, that they so despise. Bringing you home for breaks would defeat the purpose of sending you away. But as the brothers give commentary on your lovely dorm, really, it’s very…what’s the word you use? Camp? It’s very camp, ragazza!, you push the thoughts away. Choosing instead to live in the moment, where you have all three Papas' attention and feel vaguely better than when this call started.
After all, what they don’t know won’t kill them.