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For his aging body, Lawrence get exhausted easily. But no amount of exhaustion could dampen the Dean’s day. He has been looking forward to this meeting by the end of this day since the week began.
Since the Pope Innocent XIV was appointed a few months ago, he requested to have meetings at least once a week with the Dean of the College of Cardinals to discuss matters within the City. Thomas has always looked forward to said meetings and while he tries to equip a stoic expression, his secretary would always catch him with a slight smile, or a little jump in his steps whenever it’s that day of the week.
Unfortunately, the Dean got caught in a little chore with the nuns as he had promised Sister Agnes that he would be helping them with the orphanage today. Thus, he finds himself running late to his meeting with the Pope.
It is, at times like these, that the Dean is reminded of his aging body. His breathing, after he walked briskly across the courtyard, has gotten heavier. He finds himself panting as he reaches the foot of the stairs on his way to the Pope. Lawrence prayed a silent prayer that his knees wouldn't let him stumble and as he entered the elevator that would lead him to the Pope’s floor, he prayed for time to slow down so he wouldn’t embarrass himself even more to the Holy Father.
He had thought about calling him – but he realized how informal and inappropriate that would be. Not that they haven’t talked on the phone before or had some lengthy exchange of messages through this thing called… “text.” Thomas rarely sends texts to anyone. He doesn’t even text Ray, nor Aldo. Well, Aldo adores the practice of handwritten letters, so at least once a day, Thomas would find a letter for him from the office of the Secretary of State. But text messages… or as Vincent has once told him, texting , is rather fast paced. Texting, for Thomas, makes it so easy for him to forget about time and distance. It was as if the person he’s texting with, (Vincent) is just right beside him. Which would be insane if they’re texting while Thomas is laying in bed… or in the shower. Not that he’s ever done that! Why would one bring their mobile phone in the shower?
Dragging his legs as fast as he could, the Dean hastily walked towards the Pope’s door, but stopped on his tracks as he heard someone playing a guitar. It was a faint sound, but he was sure of the instrument. He doesn’t recognize the tune, but he felt drawn to it. At first, he was doubtful that it was coming from the Pope’s room. But when he leaned closer and pressed his ears against the smooth wooden door, he could hear clearly that the strumming was indeed coming from inside the Holy See’s room.
Is there someone else in the room? Is the Pope currently in a meeting right now? Has he missed his time for his meeting? Thomas checked his clock and surely, he was only 2 minutes late.
Then he heard his voice.
Thomas doesn’t recognize the language, but he assumed that it was Vincent’s mother tongue. His voice was soft, comforting, like a hug that’s swaying its listener. But at the same time, he felt a drop of edge on Vincent’s voice, a hint of emotion, probably. He couldn’t help but lean his whole weight against the door.
Lawrence was so immersed in Vincent’s song that he didn’t notice the man that’s approaching behind him.
“Your Eminence?” a familiar voice broke the silence of the hall, causing Thomas to jump and drop the thick folder he was holding. The noise caused a loud bang that stopped the music that’s also coming from the Pope’s quarters.
“Ray!” Thomas exclaimed in an attempt to hide his shock, which obviously gave the opposite effect.
“Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry…” Ray immediately bent down to collect the folder.
“Oh I–” flustered, Thomas took the folder and pressed it against his chest. Maybe this will hide how loud his heart was banging against his chest.
As if on beat, the Pope’s door opened.
Benitez emerged from the room and maybe it was because of where Lawrence was standing, but the Dean saw a hint of light that hugged Benitez. As if the Pope is glowing. Benitez’s eyes landed on his first. Lawrence felt his heart on his throat.
“Ah, you’ve arrived. I’ve been waiting for you, Dean Lawrence.” the soft smile that Benitez gave him paralyzed Lawrence, deeming him unable to utter a response.
“Holy Father” Ray interrupted, pulling Lawrence back to reality. “I’ve brought the documents from Cardinal Bellini that you’ve requested.”
Lawrence shifted his eyes to the floor, specifically at the tip of a certain converse shoe. Maybe, just maybe, if he forced his attention to something else other than the pair of brown doe eyes that welcomed him earlier, his heart would calm down and he’d be able to catch his breath. This is a sign of aging, Thomas told himself. His heart is definitely unable to handle such strenuous activity anymore. Walking briskly along the courtyard and even almost running up the stairs. What was he thinking?
“Thank you, Monsignor.” Benitez took the envelope from Ray and swiftly slid it behind his back.
Ray bowed his head and bid his goodbye.
“Are you alright, Dean Lawrence?” Benitez turned to Lawrence, his voice, the softest of velvet
Lawrence lifted his head only to be met by those comforting brown eyes being inches away from him. He felt warmth throughout his face.
“Your face is red.” Benitez’s tone overflowing with concern, and it’s spilling through his worried expression
“I– It’s” calm down, Thomas told himself. Breathe. Don’t have a heart attack now, that will be embarrassing . “I… ran. Haha. ”
“You ran?”
This made the Pope look even more worried. Lawrence is many years older than him and is obviously more frail health wise. It hurts Lawrence to think that the Pope thinks he’s making an older man run for him.
“Oh– I, I mean” Lawrence threaded lightly, not wanting to give His Holiness the wrong impression as to the cause of his shortness of breath and flushed face “I was running late, so I hurried over here. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Haha .”
Lawrence raised his hand to wave and dismiss whatever worry the Pope had up in that pretty head of his, but his hand somehow caught the Holiness’ shoulders. His face grew even redder.
Benitez gave out a soft chuckle. Like wind chimes close to Thomas’ ears, the hair at the back of his neck stood and he felt a sensation crawl down his spine. Only when the said sensation is pushing him inside the Pope’s quarters did Thomas realize that it was Vincent’s free hand, guiding him inside the room.
“Then let’s get you inside.”
Comfort fills Thomas’ weary body once he’s inside the Pope’s quarters. It’s warmer than the chilliness of the hall and the scent of ‘white flower’ filled his nose. A scent that grew fondly on him as he realized that Vincent prefers this essential oil whenever it’s his time of the month. Vincent said it helped ease his nerves. Thomas is sure though that it wasn’t that time yet. He’s sure because he started counting the days as he walked in and it wasn’t supposed to come for five more days.
“Have a seat, Thomas” Vincent guided the older man to an oak chair by his study.
Thomas composed himself and shook away any unnecessary thoughts that’s running in his head right now. Like counting days and…
An acoustic guitar laid on the Pope’s couch caught Thomas's attention.
“Oh, I didn’t know you played the guitar, Your Holiness.” Thomas didn’t mean to poke into the Pope’s personal business but the words were already out before he could stop himself.
Vincent followed Thomas's gaze. “Oh, haha , yeah.” he chuckled before walking over to the guitar. “Someone from home sent me this old guitar of mine. I couldn’t believe they saved it after all these years.” Taking the guitar, Vincent lifted his foot and rested it on top of the coffee table before comfortably set the guitar’s body on his lap. He strummed the strings, which echoed the vibration of Thomas’s already uneasy heart. The melody that Vincent was playing was the same melody that Thomas heard earlier. The older man couldn’t help but smile.
When Vincent stopped, Thomas realized that he was waiting for the song to happen, but Vincent didn’t sing. Instead, the Pope stared at him, holding a soft smile.
“Are you familiar with the song, Dean? You look like you’re expecting for something else to follow” there’s a hint of teasing in His Holiness’ voice. Annoyingly, Thomas’ heart, who he thought has calmed down, has now skipped a beat.
“Forgive me, Your Holiness…”
“Vincent.” The younger man stood up and set the guitar down back at the couch. “I told you, you can address me as Vincent when it’s just the two of us.”
“ Vincent ” My dear Vincent… Thomas wanted to say, but somehow a lump in his throat is stopping him from doing so. “I heard you playing earlier, I just… didn’t realize then that it was you playing.” he said sheepishly.
“Oh? You thought I’d have another company when I’m supposed to have a meeting with you?” Vincent raised an eyebrow as he walked closer. His eyes never left Thomas’ as he took a seat on the empty chair in front of the older man. “You wound me Thomas, for thinking I’d be this rude towards one of my favorite people.”
The redness on Thomas' face has now reached his ears and the back of his neck. He couldn’t hear much of his thoughts apart from the pounding of his chest. And the echo of the last two words that left Vincent’s lips.
Vincent’s lips… that looked so soft, now curled into what Thomas could only think of as a pout. His eyes which had always gazed at him softly now basked in sadness and what Thomas could only think of was disappointment. But, he also sensed a hint of playful exaggeration from the younger’s demeanor.
“My dear Vincent…” Thomas trailed off with a feign remorse, playing into this little game Vincent has started. He leaned forward and held the younger man’s hands between his “I didn’t mean to…” somehow, he found himself once again speechless. How is it that he was able to handle the Conclave and talk to all these cardinals and yet, when it comes to Vincent Benitez, his tongue suddenly forgets how to work, and his brain suddenly loses all the words?
“Hm?” Vincent tilted his head slightly to one side.
“I didn’t mean to be so enamoured by your voice, I thought angels have visited you.” Two can play this game, Thomas thought.
This amused Vincent, and it’s prevalent on the way his lips spread into a smile. His eyes disappeared into crescents as he took Thomas’ hands into his. “Now, you’re just flattering me.”
They both laughed.
The night passed quickly as Thomas presented his report. The week hasn’t been nice to the two of them, and most especially to the Pope. It didn’t help that most conservatives are still strongly against the current Pope’s election and were demanding Benitez to be disqualified. They claim that the Vatican doesn’t recognize the previous Pope’s in pectore assignment of Benitez. But that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Vincent leaned back on his chair and let out an exhausted sigh once Thomas had concluded his report.
“I’m so sorry I brought much less good news to you this week than our previous meeting” Thomas whispered as an answer to the Pope’s expression of exhaustion.
Vincent looked at him with the softest of eyes and curled his lips into his familiar warm smile.
“My dearest Thomas, there’s no need for apologies. You are only a messenger.”
“Is there anything I can do to help ease your worries, Your Holiness?”
“Vincent.”
“ ...Vincent .”
“Mmm. Can I borrow a little of your time tonight before I let you go?”
Badump.
“Of course, dear Vincent. I am at your disposal.”
Vincent’s smile grew. Thomas mirrored his smile.
“My nephew’s son– my grandchild, shared this music sheet with me years ago. Saying I should play this because everyone is using this as their introduction to playing guitars” Vincent got up and Thomas noted the slight jump in his step. It made Thomas chuckle softly. “I think that child knew I haven’t played in ages and that I need to reintroduce myself to my guitar. Hahaha . Never got around to playing it until now, though.” The hint of excitement in Vincent’s voice is now undeniable.
Vincent positioned his guitar on his lap. Sitting on his bed, with guitar on hand, Thomas noted how human Vincent looked. How he seems so… innocent.
“Would you mind if I play it for you?” Vincent has that hopeful, childlike look on his face, Thomas doesn’t know how anyone can say no to that. He felt his chest hurt.
“Of course not.” he said, his smile not leaving his face.
And Vincent Benitez played the song. It was the same song he played earlier. And when he sang, Thomas was sure that his soul was just about ready to leave his body and join the angels above. The song has a hint of rock in it, contrasting Vincent’s soft voice. But he delivered it so beautifully.
Thomas was completely submerged in Vincent’s song, he wished he could stay here forever.
When the song finishes, Thomas felt a single tear fall down his cheek. He doesn’t even understand the song, yet Vincent’s singing has touched him in ways that he cannot explain. Or maybe, he’s just biased and everything Vincent does touches him.
“That was… oh Vincent. That was beyond beautiful.” Thomas placed a hand on his chest.
“Thank you, Thomas.” Vincent gave him that sheepish smile that never failed to melt his knees. “I’m glad you liked it. You’ve given me the confidence to play that to my grandchild.”
Just then, Thomas imagined Vincent playing the same song to a group of kids. He felt a tug on his chest. With the amount of thumping, banging, beating, tugging happening inside his chest, he’s amused at how he hasn’t gone into cardiac arrest yet. How embarrassing would that be though, to have a heart attack from… Vincent’s charms.
Thomas traced the necklace of his pectoral cross.
“If I may ask… what was the song about?”
Vincent walked across the room to lay the guitar back to its case. He was silent while he sealed the guitar safely in its home. Then he got up and walked towards Thomas.
“It’s a song about yearning for a love that has left.”
Thomas clutched his pectoral cross. “Oh.” His thoughts are racing. He wanted to ask Vincent if he relates to the song in some ways, but he felt it to be inappropriate. “I see.”
“What’s in the pretty head of yours, dear Thomas.”
The warmth on Thoma’s cheeks is back. And it got worse when he felt the back of Vincent’s fingers grazing one of his cheeks.
“I–” stuttering, Thomas struggles to push out a word, but even his brain has refused to form a coherent thought.
Vincent chuckled. His eyes, once again sparkling and disappearing into crescents. Thomas finds it most endearing whenever Vincent smiles like this. He couldn’t help but chuckle along with the younger man.
“Join me in praying, before I let you go?” Vincent invited him.
“Of course. The pleasure would be mine.” Thomas answered.