Work Text:
Something entirely different had seized Emmanuel this time around. Something past guilt, past shame and embarrassment. An entirely new feeling that was unmatched by whatever turmoil he had undergone in the years past. A perverse, sick, cold hand grasped at his abdomen--however figurative, the effect it had was very real. Air failed to reach his longs past shaky spurts, the winter air grating like sandpaper in his dry throat. Simultaneously, he was breathing too quickly--too much for his body to keep up with. This resulted in a vicious cycle of self-sabotage.
His hands searched for whatever was on his person.. A small pouch, heavy with the weight of rosary beads--Haematite, they would be cold to the touch if he were to reach for them--a set of keys, and his phone. Good, that was a start. For one he knew that nothing was left behind in that domicile, something that could hardly be considered a home. He wouldn't call it a home, not for fear of ending up back there if he were to dwell on it for too long. That his body would turn and walk, each step heavier and heavier until he ended up back at that dinner table--being forced to continue that meal, to swallow cold food.
Finally, his brain had settled on the phone that weighed in his back pocket. Quickly, Matthews pulled the device from his jeans and fumbled with it--his cold fingers hardly able to type in a familiar number. Familiarity, that was what he needed, to warm this perpetual cold that had settled in his gut and spread across his body. Familiarity and warmth.
The priest stopped on the sidewalk, deciding that he would sit. Just sit. Stop moving before he ends up more lost than he had been previously. Not to mention the motionless nature of his posture combated the wave of nausea that settled after the cold.
"Em?" A familiar voice answered. Familiarity.
His mouth was dry as he croaked out silent words, mouth fighting to form the shape of syllables. "Hey," he had managed after grappling with the idea of hanging up. "I just--"
"It's late, Em. Did something happen?"
A long stretch of silence made it impossibly hard to speak once more. "No."
Emmanuel could recognize shuffling around on the other end of the line. How late was it? Late enough if Tim was asleep.
"So.. Why'd you call? Are you like.. Drunk or something, dude? Can you even do that?"
He could understand the attempt at humor and offered a stale chuckle, eyes searching the dark street nervously. "No. I just, uhm. Need a ride. Please."
Another long stretch of silence before a sigh echoed from the phone. Emmanuel opened his mouth to speak again, cold seeping further into his body now, but Tim cut him off as though he knew Emmanuel would quickly deny needing anything. "Yeah," Tim began. "Yeah. I'll come get you, send your location. I'll come get you."
Good. This was good. Familiarity was good. Tim, his friend since the beginning, was good. Was warm.
"Thank you."