Chapter Text
“Serious or sexy?”
You don’t recognise the voice behind the curtain, and you thank Lucifer for it.
“Serious.”
“Alright. Take your time, I’m all ears.”
You take a deep breath. The inside of the confessional isn’t as ornate as the outside, but it was still clearly designed more for aesthetics than comfort. In fact, you’re fairly certain it was stolen from a Christian church and repurposed, given that the Grucifix-adorned panels are obviously made of a newer, lighter wood than the rest of the box. You’ve wondered before if the entire thing – the box, and the practice of confession in the Ministry – were introduced largely for the aesthetic. It seems like something Secondo might have done. Now, though, it serves two purposes: to anonymously gloat over one’s sins and express one’s pride to an eager listener, especially if one is reluctant to share more widely; or, also anonymously, to express one’s worries and doubts, to vent one’s anger, and to ask advice. In either case, no topic was off limits.
“I, uh… sorry, it’s hard to talk about.” You pull your sleeves over your hands.
“No rush,” the voice says. “I’m here for the next hour, so take all the time you need.” You nod, even though they can’t see you. It’s usually a Cardinal taking confession; the Papas, current and previous, are better at it, more practised, but the Cardinals have to undergo at least some training before they’re allowed to take on the job, in case anything genuinely concerning is shared that might have a young newly-ordained Cardinal panicking. You suspect that what you’re about to share might fall into that category. Hopefully this person is experienced.
“OK. I’ll, um, I’ll say it bluntly, I guess.”
“Fine by me.” They sound cheerful – not overly so, but just enough to make you worry that you might be about to ruin their day.
“I’ve… I’ve been thinking about, uh. Killing myself. I guess. I’m not gonna – I don’t have like a plan or anything,” you add hastily. “It’s just, like, thoughts, you know? I don’t –”
“OK, slow down,” the voice says. “Take a deep breath.” You do so. “OK, that’s great. Now, I’m glad to hear you don’t have a plan. You can tell me as much or as little as you want, alright? Then I might need to ask you some questions. But I won’t do anything without your permission.”
“Right. Well, uh – it’s not new to me or anything, but it’s been more than a year since I last felt like this, and… I don’t know, it’s really scary to have it all come back…”
You tell them everything. When you trail off, the Cardinal sits there in silence for a moment.
“Thank you for telling me all of that. How do you feel now, having shared it?”
“Uh…” You think for a moment. “I don’t know. Embarrassed, I guess. I thought I’d feel better if I told someone but I don’t really feel any different, except now I’m aware another person has heard it all I feel like I might seem like… like I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”
“You’re definitely not,” they reply. “It’s really good that you shared this. And I’m so sorry that you’re feeling like this.”
“Thanks,” you mumble.
“OK, so… I won’t tell anyone without your permission, given that you don’t have a plan or immediate intent. But…” You hold your breath. “I would really strongly recommend that you do tell Papa, or Secondo, or Sister. Even Primo if you’d like.” The Cardinal laughs softly and you smile. “If you’re comfortable giving me your name, I can tell one of them for you.”
“I don’t know…”
“I won’t force you. If you’re here, rather than in the youth confessional, I know you’re old enough to be responsible for your own safety.”
“No, I… I know I probably should.”
As awkward as you feel giving your name to the anonymous Cardinal, they really do handle it better than you had feared – no panicking, for one thing. They check with you exactly what you’re willing to share with Papa, confirm you definitely don’t want Sister or Primo involved but that Secondo can know if any kind of emergency does ever arise, and then promise to speak to Terzo in the post-confession-hours check-in.
“It’s not like – we don’t just go tell Papa everything as soon as confession’s done,” the Cardinal explains. “Just, you know, whoever’s been taking confession has a quick meeting with Papa, or Secondo if it was Terzo’s turn in here, to check we’re alright and to pass on anything like this, with consent, or like – I don’t know, if you’d said you were planning to set fire to the Ministry or something, I’d have to tell him. The obvious stuff.”
Within a few hours, a Ghoul is knocking on your bedroom door, quietly asking you to please meet Papa in his office as soon as was convenient. They wait for you to put your shoes on and then walk away; you hurry to catch up, and they wait for you.
“Didn’t know if this was something I should be subtle about,” they say. “Papa didn’t tell me the purpose of the meeting, only that I should let him know if you were unavailable.”
“No, it’s fine,” you reply. They start walking and you fall into step beside them. You’re beginning to feel nervous, so you make conversation to distract from it. “How are you?”
“Me?” The Ghoul sounds surprised. “I’m alright, thanks. Just doing the usual, running errands for Papa, so if he’s in a good mood then so am I.”
You smile, and the way the Ghoul’s eyes crinkle slightly suggests they’re smiling under the mask.
When you reach Terzo’s office, the Ghoul pauses and looks at you. They take in the way your fingers twist the strings of your hoodie round and round, and cock their head in question. You nod. The Ghoul nods in response, knocks, then steps aside as soon as the door begins to open. Terzo thanks them, ushers you inside, then locks the door. As soon as you’re alone together, the formal smile drops from his face.
“Caro, I – ” He moves towards you, then stops. “Can I – is it alright if I give you a hug?” You nod. He immediately wraps you in his arms, and hugs you tight. Your nerves evaporate at once; he breathes in deeply and sighs, as if relieved to be holding you. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s OK,” you say, though your voice is muffled against his chest. He releases his hold on you and steps back, though he keeps one hand on your arm.
“Alright, I will be, ah, professional now,” he says. “Let’s sit down.” He gestures to the armchairs by the fire. “I want to know what’s going on, and how I can help, si?”