I. ᝰ passively, idly
Chapter 1 ⌚︎ generously Summary ⌯⌲ ‘New’ is often exciting. In a city, new means more friends, places to try and opportunities to explore. When ‘new’ was thrown around, life suddenly became exhilarating. This excluded Copia, who'd been returning to the city for a decade with the same experiences and passions. Some things weren’t worth changing. And some people were worth more. Pairing ⁀➴ Cardinal Copia/Fem!Reader ✎ᝰ. 3.8k words, fluff you can read this on ao3!
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Copia had been in love for eight years. Yeah—eight whole years of restless nights, replaying the same memories over and over, wondering what it should’ve been and sometimes wishing life could turn around. He knew the reason it never worked, though. It was the same reason he kept coming back to the city on business—his cowardice. New places and new feelings were off the table, and for someone who was so obsessed with the idea of finding his love in a densely populated area, the chances were slim to none.
What would he even say? The whole thing is ridiculous. Unrealistic, even. Maybe he was wasting his time, but in those eight years, he never stopped to think about it. Disregarding this desperation, he can hardly bear to miss the autumn season. How could you not fall in love in a time like this? Copia had to spare the tragedy of his circumstances for the sight of the city, tinted in an orange hue. It had been the same as always, and he could appreciate that. City life treated Copia fairly well. Being unique in looks was one thing, but slowly the staring blended in the background, and Copia was just another in the crowd, walking to and from the bus stop every day to the same locations: work and home. He didn’t spare much time to explore the local dive bars or restaurants, but sometimes he made his way to the public library for a change of scenery. To be fair, it kind of reminded him of his apartment. The library was an old brick building with a stuffy interior. On summer days, the heat would become so unbearable, even with the windows wide open. Almost no one stopped by to check out a book. There were empty rooms, area rugs covering up discolored floorboards, and natural light that was a huge dependency problem, because without it you wouldn’t be able to read. Oh, and you can’t forget the books. Walls of them. Exactly like home.
Copia was thankful for the library computers most of all. Finally, he figured out how to repost a listing of the spare room in his apartment. It’d be a little income to earn for himself while he was living here for the season. He had no trouble last year with his previous roommate—another studious Cardinal who preferred his own solitude. Copia was lucky then, but surely whoever applied next would be similar. He could only hope. Not long after, Copia looked out the window thinking about love again. It was a heavy feeling. Heavy on the chest and mind, Copia was relieved he hadn't gone insane. Recently, he’s considered talking to a witch who can release him from this predicament. Eight years is a long time. Copia was painfully aware, but lately he’s been accepting the fact that it’s time to let go. He sighs, resigning himself to time. Copia checked his watch, walking towards the exit when he heard a familiar raspy chirp from the front desk. The lady donned a scarf around her head, eyes crinkled with a sort of delight once he turned around. Copia panicked, forgetting he had to duck out of her view to avoid being accosted. “Ah, don’t you go anywhere, young man.” She started, shuffling her way over. “Oh, good evening, Ms. Morgen,” Copia replied, fixing his biretta. She looked up, her body moving faster than he’s ever seen. “Such a shame you’re still single. A dangerously handsome man like you should be surrounded by women.” “Ms. Morgen,” Copia huffed. “I hardly think this is appropriate.” “Perhaps you should stay with me for a little longer,” She suggested, earning a shiver down Copia’s spine. “It’s warmer inside. You’re not off in a hurry, are you?” “Eh, Ms. Morgen.” Copia chuckled nervously. “I cannot stay forever.” “Of course you can. You’re my favorite customer these days,”—the only customer that comes in, by the way—“Forget all those fools out there. You can marry me instead. I know how to manage a house. My last husband had no complaints.” Copia adjusted the collar of his cassock, sweating. She was never married. “I appreciate the offer, but I must leave for the night.” She clicked her tongue, her head shaking as she shuffled back to the desk. “Still a shame you’re single. Shame!” “Goodbye, Ms. Morgen!” Copia called out as he left. He shook a dreadful feeling. The old woman’s admiration had always been foreign to Copia. Poor Ms. Morgen—he thought—the lovesick fool.
Copia recovered quickly, taking his time to admire the city around him. From the litter of people that walked by, Copia was the only one who paid hard attention to the ambiance of cars passing by, muffled conversations through the window shops, and the neighborhood cat that cried for him each passing day. He paused, stooping towards the steps the fluff posed on, gently scratching its chin. It was hard to tell with all the fur if it was a girl or a boy, but a cat's still a cat, and Copia believed either way its demands deserved to be met. It was a good thing Copia didn’t have any treats to give because, to his surprise, as it rolled over, he noticed the obvious bloat. After a minute, and a new scratch on his glove (better luck next time), Copia bid his farewell and went off again. Turning the corner, Copia thought about dinner. He had a carton of leftover stir fry, but there was also meat he thawed the other night, and he absolutely had to cook it before it went bad. Well, he didn’t anticipate limited options, but tonight sounded like a steak stir-fry type of night. If he thought harder, it could be like hibachi. Without the theatrics, of course, but it gave him something to look forward to. “Copia!” He turned his head, stepping back slightly just as he was about to enter his building. His brows raised. “Cardinal Peter,” He breathed, waving. “How nice to see you.” Peter strode closer, a calm smile plastered on his face. Copia beckoned to him for a hug, which Peter accepted almost immediately. “What brings you here?” “A short visit,” Peter replied. “I thought I’d stop by before I move to the west.” Copia hummed. “The west,” he echoed, dumbfounded. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.” Peter waved off his comment. “Please, I’ve been hearing those words nonstop. I came by to see if you were up for a drink with some other brothers.” Copia smiled. “How can I pass that up? It’s been a while since I’ve been out.” “Because you never had an excuse, recluse.” “I’m comfortable in my solitude.” Peter shook his head, leading the way down towards the bus stop. The bar itself is a shitty dive bar with your usual sticky floors and a questionable smell. Good thing the beer’s cheap and everyone in the city decides it’s the perfect place to meet because Copia is again reminded of why he doesn’t leave his apartment. Well, he’s here now, sat among other cardinals in uniform, sharing more than just one pint and toasting to new adventures. “What’s in California anyway?” Copia suddenly dropped after taking a swig. “Copia, you can’t be serious.” A brother laughed, flushed drunk. Copia shrugged, feeling fuzzy. “I don’t understand all the buzz.” He admitted. “What does it have that the city doesn’t?” This erupted a chorus of disappointment from the group. Copia leaned on the table as he drank more and waited for an answer. A brother next to him patted his shoulder and brought him closer. “Listen,” he started, “the culture, the people, the weather. It’s different, it’s especially new. What’s not to like about that?” No, it still didn’t click for Copia. He liked the fall here, his comfort, the path to work and home. It’s not something he can abandon so easily. However, looking at brother Pete in his drunken state, he could only give his support through another round of beers and another toast for his sendoff.
Stumbling out of the bar in their arms, Copia tried hard to sober up before the last bus. It’d be a shame to cause a mess, and he could already feel the beer sloshing up his esophagus. He swallowed, waiting with his fellow brothers until he felt confident enough to sway under the lamppost alone. Copia was so aware of his persistent smile that he had to force himself to keep a straight face as he squinted at his watch. The bus should be here anytime soon. He looked around, noticing how eerily quiet the night became. Solitude is always nice. Copia convinced himself he could fall asleep in the city’s silence, the fear of being mugged or worse vanishing completely. His eyes instinctively closed, and he focused on the sound of leaves brushing against each other. “Hey, do you have a light?” A voice, sweet as the autumn rain, sang beside him. “Hm? Sure.” Copia didn’t open his eyes, feeling around his cassock for the cheap lighter he bought from the pharmacy not so long ago. He wasn’t much of a smoker to begin with, but the question made him crave the taste. His hands fumbled around his pockets until he could finally reach it. For some odd reason, he caught himself staring at it for a long time before holding it out. “Thanks.” “No problem,” he murmured, swaying forward. A hand grabbed his cassock, pulling Copia back gently under the lamppost. “You had a lot to drink, huh?” “Did I?” “That’s what I’m asking!” Copia chuckled too. “I don’t know.” “That’s alright—“ There’s a sharp exhale, and smoke fueled Copia’s lungs. “—sometimes it’s good not to remember things.” He couldn’t agree more. “Where are your buddies?” “Gone to California,” he yawned. “I think.” “Already? That was quick.” “Who knows?” Copia scratched his head, looking for the bus down the street. No luck. “I served your drinks tonight, y'know." “You did? Thanks,” Copia smiled, throwing his head back to stare into the lamppost. “I hope I tipped well…” “You don’t recognize me, do you?” Copia blinked, head falling almost immediately. He looked over, studying tattered boots. His gaze lifts, finding a face he saw in dreams. The one woman he wished for upon a star stood next to him, cigarette smoke dancing on your lips with the most disdainful glare in your eyes. Holy shit. “Holy shit.” He gulped. You flicked ashes off of your cigarette, your judgment melting away immediately with a laugh. His world tilted, and he could barely hold back the three glasses of beer and tequila shots. Copia folded over, heaving. You rushed to comfort him. “Oh!” You panicked; a nervous laugh slipped. “I don’t even remember serving you that much tonight.” Copia wheezed while you guided him onto the bench, still rubbing his back. “You okay?” “Yes? It’s hard to tell.” He wiped his lip. “I can act like it.” Damn. You smiled. “Guess I'm not the most memorable person. We spent four years in college together. That’s cruel.” Copia took a good look at you again, wanting to tell you how much that wasn’t true. All he could say was—“What the hell?” You fixed his biretta. “Well, to be fair, I didn’t recognize you with all that makeup on.” You looked him over. “The getup is nice though! You’re like a dark priest. It suits you.” Copia sat up with a groan, his stomach sore and throat burning. He eyed you. “I’m in disbelief. How did I not notice you?” He asked, though it was more a rhetorical question. You shrugged, snuffing out your cigarette. “I didn’t want to bother you while you were with your buddies. Good thing I didn’t, or I’d be embarrassed if you didn't recognize me.” You clicked your tongue. “Plus, you seemed like you were in your own world.”
Copia’s stomach only felt more ill. “I might've recognized you then.” “Yeah, before all the drinks maybe.” You joked, Copia’s ears flushed. “I guess we’ll both never know what could've happened.” Copia straightened. “We can go back inside and reenact the whole thing.” This earned a laugh–the same laugh he fell in love with all those years ago. For a moment, Copia wants to believe you really haven't changed. If that was the case, then maybe… “There’s an idea.” You giggled. “Too bad the bar’s closed.” “Ah.” Copia checked his watch again. The bus was running late. Maybe this was the universe giving him the time he needed to make things right. Even now, sitting next to you, he can’t help but feel the weight of his heart, screaming to do something. But what could he do? For eight years, he sat with the thought, coming up with so many alternate realities if he had confessed all those years ago. Now, after meeting again, he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he could just blurt out his declaration of love. No, it’s too early. How can he be so sure that he’s really in love with you versus the idea? And you- he had to consider. Would he scare you away? He can’t fathom the loss. Not again. Quick! “Your watch is off.” “Huh?” Copia perked up, seeing you lean over. “The last bus was an hour ago.” You covered your mouth to muffle a laugh. “That’s why you’re waiting, right?” His brows crinkled, looking around. No wonder it was empty. “Wait, then why are you waiting here?” “I wanted a cigarette before the drive home.” You mentioned, brushing dust off your jeans. “It buys me some time.” “Do you live far?” A perfectly normal question to ask. What an idiot. “About forty-five minutes from the city.” You admitted bashfully. “I moved back to my parents' place last year after my lease ended. Trying to save up some money to rent out a room with someone.” Copia hummed, crossing his arms. “Parents are still a wreck?”
“Oh, they’ll never not be.” You scratched your neck, looking off into the distance. “Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, though. I’m not exactly put together myself.” “No?” “No.” You both sighed in chorus, watching the lamppost flicker. Copia turned to you again, trying not to make a fool of himself. “I’ve been looking for a roommate too.” “Oh yeah? That’s funny. We’re in sync.” You tilted your head to the side. “My last roommate, I could’ve sworn they were summoned from hell.” “Could’ve been.” He agreed. You squinted at his response. “Only you would say something like that. That’s funny. But unlike you, I can remember you clearly.” Copia lets himself laugh at your teasing. “It’s kind of cute that you followed your mother into that kind of work.” Copia grew hot—his adoptive mother would’ve loved you if she had the chance to meet you. “Thanks,” is all Copia managed to say. “And you?” You clicked your tongue. “In between jobs right now. Bartending pays well, but not enough to live comfortably on my own, clearly. Other than that, I’m pretty much working freelance.” You looked at him, shrugging. “A mess, see?” “Doesn’t sound that way to me,” Copia replied. “You're just figuring stuff out. It takes time.” “I guess.” You agree, crossing a leg over the other. “You lost contact with a lot of us after you were admitted into your mom's institution.” Copia stiffened. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I wasn’t really allowed to contact anyone until I got commission approval.” “So you’re here now.” “Mhm.” He nodded. “Actually, I’ve been back and forth for the past four years.” “I’ve been here the entire time,” you exclaimed. “I wish I knew! We could’ve met up sooner for some drinks.” Copia could feel the dread slowly claw its way out of his skin. Of course he knew you were here, but in this particular area of town? He swallowed, keeping it from contorting his face. Time is a joke. Maybe this was a curse thrown at him—a price he had to pay for his spineless behavior. It was too good to be true—here, alone under a buzzing street lamp. Maybe the price was worth paying. Copia was so fueled with fear that when you got up, he scrambled onto his feet too. You stretched, groaning. “Well, the night's still young. I might stay awhile. Maybe find some place to crash.” “You have lots of friends in the city?” “No, not really. The clubs are still open. Figured I’d find someone to stay with. I really don’t want to go home.” Copia’s chest ached at that. Makes sense. You have a sense of confidence that Copia dramatically lacks. And look at you—how can anyone deny you? In those years of wanting, Copia did manage to score a date or two, but he never felt a deeper connection. He wasn’t a saint in those relationships either—pushing them away and refusing to disclose anything about himself that might’ve been important. He couldn’t bring himself to start over when you were always there in his mind. Right then, he declared the universe gifted him time to get him out of the eight-year loop. He won’t let you slip again. “My place is open.” He blurted out. Watching your brow raise, he could feel the bile in his throat. “Huh?” “I mean—“ What did he mean? “—my apartment has an open room until I can find someone to rent out. You can stay there tonight.” He swallowed again. “I don’t think my conscience can handle leaving you to find and stay with someone random.” You offered him a soft smile. “I told you I’m a mess.” You reiterated. “You’ve always been nice. I don’t think you’ve changed a bit.” If only you knew. “Lead the way. You could use some water and a mint.” —oh. In the cool night, he still sweat profusely.
The walk to his apartment felt relatively quick with you by his side. You talked the whole way back, gushing about seeing him again in the city and not having to go home to your nagging family. Copia didn’t feel foreign. You were full of life even in the dead of night when people were sleeping, and usually by this time he’d been annoyed by any little pin drop. He hoped it wasn’t the tequila that made him so open because he feared that tomorrow morning, he’d flip a switch and suddenly find your presence aggravating. There’s only one way to find out, really. You both turned the corner, climbing the stairs to his apartment building. You stared up in awe. “How cute!” You pointed out. “I’ve passed this building so many times.” “What?” Copia exclaimed. “You’re joking.” “It’d be a pretty lame joke.” The door cried open, and you both entered a dark hallway. A fluorescent light flickers down the hallway near the emergency stairs, and you follow him towards the opposite side. You watch him operate the old elevator that’s somehow holding up since (what you can only assume) the Industrial Revolution. “Okay, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d assume you've taken me here to kill me.” Copia turned around, jaw slack. “There’s something wrong with you.” He lets you enter first before closing the iron gates. The elevator creaked upward slowly. “What if we get stuck?” You gasped. “We’re fine.” “Maybe I should jump and test the thing.” “Don’t!” Copia panicked, earning a laugh. “See? Even you know it’s not reliable.” “Just get out of the elevator.” He breathed, opening the accordion gates again. You stepped out, still observing the dark hallways. You adjust your bag. “Wow, which closet do you live in? The utility or the electric one?” “Yeah, maybe inviting you was a bad idea.” He declared. You rest a hand on your hip. “I’m only teasing!” You paused. “If it’s too much, I’ll stop.” “I wouldn’t dare stop you from being authentic. It’s not my style.” He opened his apartment door, walking in casually to drop his keys off in a dish. You stood by the doorway in absolute awe as the outside hallway transformed into something warm. His apartment was shrouded in soft light and exposed brick. The walls were lined with shelves of books, and low-light plants thrived throughout. Copia caught your stare. “You can come in.” He beckoned gently. You stiffened, looking at the carpet. Copia watched you slip off your boots before entering, still studying his apartment. “I think my feet are cleaner than the city dirt on my boots.” You smiled, placing your shoes by the door. Copia flushes, gesturing to the empty room. “This is the room I’ve been trying to convince people to rent out,” he started, turning on the light. “It’s already furnished. Just needs a body.” You peeked inside. “Not a dead one, I hope.” “Dead bodies aren’t good company,” Copia replied. Since you’d entered his apartment, you hadn’t stopped smiling, “It’s gorgeous. It’d be stupid to turn it down.” You followed him into the room as he prepared the bed. “How long have you been looking for a roommate?” You ask, surveying the bookcase. “About three autumn seasons,” Copia responded simply, fluffing pillows. “Being a satanic priest, I think it turns people off.” “Ah.” Copia wiped his hands together, presenting the bed with a little ta-da moment. “Thanks again. It beats sleeping in a car. Or some rando’s shitty place.” Your comment makes him worry. “You sleep in your car?” “Yeah, occasionally.” You shrugged, sitting on the bed. He cleared his throat. “Do you need anything?” “No, I’ll be okay. You should worry about getting to bed, too.” As much as he didn’t want the night to end, Copia was already dreaming about sleeping. He could still taste the bile in his mouth. Copia backed out of the room, hitting his head on the doorframe. Before you can ask, he gives you a thumbs up and closes the bedroom door, bolting down the hall.
His excitement made it out of his stomach again. Copia was curled over the toilet for almost an hour before he could find the strength to clean himself up. He pressed into his hands, struggling to ignore tomorrow.
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Author's notes: Decided to post this here because why not. This story will have a longer wait for updating, one, because it's still developing and I had not properly planned it, and two, because I'm still not satisfied with the way it's written, so there'll be some major adjustments throughout. I hate to see my fics sitting and collecting dust, so posting them feels like a weight off my conscience.