Chapter Text
Cardinale Prevost.
Two more marks scratched onto the paper under his name. Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, a cardinal for only two years– and a cardinal-bishop a day over two months– found himself in a predicament. His tally of the votes towards him are rising exponentially, totaling to sixty and counting. He tries to keep his expression composed yet he cannot deny that his heart is pounding out of his chest, that his fingers tremble as he draws another line in hearing his name.
Bless the Lord in the work He does, but there are times Robert finds himself unable to keep up with the change He throws at him. Nights of prayer asking for a breather. He can’t keep on sprinting at every second, he reasons, but if that’s what God asks of him, that he would try to fulfill.
Cardinale Tagle.
The name of the man on his left, Luis Antonio Tagle. He is superior in rank, being in the cardinal position for over a decade, yet he wasn’t who one would expect for someone in the Roman Curia for so long. For one, he’s young, the youngest of the cardinal-bishops. Their age gap is only a couple years, with Robert being older. That youth of his exudes not only from his physicality, but also in his personality. He’s light-hearted, the first to crack a joke and the crowd will join him in laughter. He’s friendly, talks to anybody and everybody. Robert noticed this when he first met Luis in the Philippines, when he visited as the Prior General of the Augustinians. Luis greeted him with a smile that radiated the sun’s warmth. A fond memory, one that flashes back to his mind when they see each other. Sometimes, it even arises when his phone receives a notification from him.
Cardinale Prevost.
Another tally again. His breath hitches, only a handful more and he will be proclaimed pope. Supreme Pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church, seated at the Chair of Saint Peter. A title with a heavy responsibility, a legacy to continue, history to be made. He silently prays, “Lord, am I even up to the task? Is this Your will, to entrust me with a billion sheep and more?”
“Cardinal Prevost?”
His skin jolted, surprised by the sudden call. It was Luis. Robert took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart from anxiety-induced cardiac arrest. “Yes, Cardinal Tagle?” he replied, his voice slightly wavering.
Luis smiled at him softly, before reaching from a pocket hidden by his rochet. He grabs a piece of candy, wrapped tightly by the ends of the round sweet. “Caramel, Your Eminence?” he asked, offering the caramel candy to Robert.
The pounding of his heart calmed down as Robert reached to take the caramel candy from his hand, his fingertip brushing Luis’ palm for a short moment. He fidgets with the wrapper, the sound of the foil overlaying with the scrutineers checking the ballots. He popped it into his mouth, letting the caramel melt and envelop his mouth with flavour. His breathing steadied, the candy giving him not only a sweetness on his tongue, but newfound confidence and comfort.
“Kalma, Cardinal Prevost. You’ll be fine. Lord will be with you in your every step,” Luis reassured him, his smile as warm as it was when they first met. Robert couldn’t help but smile back.
Yes, he is right. The Lord will guide him in ways only He could do. He would accompany him in every step of his papacy. Robert hopes that Luis would do the same, too.