Chapter Text
“Hi Clyde, are you almost here? The service has already started.”
Clyde grimaced at the message, looking at himself in the rear view mirror. He should be more embarrassed than he’s going into church looking like this. Hair greasy, wrinked Hawaiian shirt, he didn’t even have time to shower.
His phone buzzed
“C’mon man, it’s not even a Sunday service there’s no one here but old people. No one will recognize you I promise.”
God he never let up did he? Clyde regretted agreeing to let Tolkien be his AA sponsor. Not like he had a choice though.
Clyde finally got out of his car and made his way toward the church.
Seeing Tokein dressed to the nines in a nice suit didn’t help make him feel any less like shit.
“You goin’ to a funeral or something?” Clyde mumbled.
Tolkien rolled his eyes at the snide remark. He put his hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.
“Clyde, I’m proud of you for coming, seriously. This is a big step in the right direction.”
Wow okay, he wasn’t expecting him to get all weird and sentimental. He would’ve preferred him getting on his ass for being late.
“Yea well, you know, I do want to get better.”
He glanced down at his feet too ashamed to look the much more put together man in the eyes.
“And… thanks for dealing with me, I guess.”
Tolkien chuckled.
“I mean I’ve been ‘dealing’ with you since elementary school. This is nothing.”
He quietly opened the chapel door.
“We can sit in the back if it makes you feel more comfortable.” He whispered.
The church was just the same as Clyde remembered it when he was little. The rows of old oak pews, the stained glass windows that bathed the room in purple morning light. It was as if he had been transported back in time.
The two sat down. The only thing that was different was the priest.
Wait.
Clyde’s eyes widened as he took a closer look at the priest. It couldn’t be.
“Peace be with you”
“And with your spirit.”
Clyde nudged Tolkien who tried to ignore him.
“You didn’t tell me Scott fucking Malkinson was the priest-“ he hissed.
Tolkien glanced at him, confused.
“Who…?”
“You know- the diabetes kid from school! ‘I’m Scott Malkinson I have diabetes’”
Tolkien’s eyes lit up in realization.
“Oh right! Shit Clyde isn’t that the guy you had a cr-“
Tolkien was interrupted by the man in question.
“Gentlemen, if you’re going to chat during a service can you please do it outside?”
The Priest looked Clyde directly in the eyes.
“Sorry father, we didn’t mean to be rude. We’ll stop.” Tolkien spoke up.
Clyde felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Y-yea, uh- sorry…”
Scott’s eyes softened as he continued with his sermon.
“Like I was saying, the book of Mathew..”
Clyde’s mind was running a million miles an hour. Since when was Scott a priest? Did he even recognize him? Oh god this was so embarrassing. He should’ve worn something nicer- damn Tolkien for making him come here.
When it had come time for Communion, Clyde started to panic again. Tolkien glanced over to see his friend wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts, something he had been doing when he was nervous ever since they were little.
Tolkien sighed.
“Listen, we can leave if you’re uncomfortable. I’m sorry I had no idea the priest was Scott.”
Clyde sharply exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and quickly nodded.
“Please.”
The two men awkwardly scooted out of the back pew, Clyde hoping Scott was too distracted to notice their retreat. Before discreetly closing the chapel door behind him, he made eye contact with the priest.
The two men didn’t exchange many words before going their separate ways. Clyde clearly didn’t want to talk about what had happened, and Tolkien knew the stubborn man wouldn’t budge an inch.
“Well, see you Thursday as per usual?”
“Yea, sure. See you then.”
Clyde got in his car watching as Tolkein drove off. His hand gripped the key in the ignition hesitating. Why was he hesitating? Clyde grit his teeth. He couldn’t stop thinking about the priest.
Scott looked almost the same as he did when they were in high school (save the noticeable signs that come with aging of course). He still had his little curly cowlick he could never seem to style right, and those freckles still danced across his cheeks.
Clyde felt his face heat up thinking about him. He wanted so badly to say something. To apologize for everything he said and did when they were young. His mind continued to race.
Why on earth had Scott even become a priest? He never seemed like the type who’d be privy to all that religious crap. If anything, it was cruel that a guy with such a noticeable speech impediment became someone who spoke aloud to crowds on a daily basis.
Still, one question kept rearing it’s ugly head to the forefront: why don’t I go back in there and talk to him?
His logical side told him there were millions of reasons why not.
For one, he looked like absolute shit. Second of all, he had just talked in church and booked it early, and third, what if Scott didn’t even want to see him?
But the part of Clyde that held out hope seemed to be pushing that all to the side. What if they still had something? What if he could fix what he broke all those years ago?
Clyde Donovan, for once in his life, was going to take initiative. Once all the people who had attended the service filed out and left, he took a deep breath and stepped out of his car. Everything felt like it was moving in slowmotion as he made his way to the church. Finally, he rested his hand on the oak door pushing it open.