Despite being a valued member of the clergy, he had never been one for sticking around. Back in his Cardinal days, they'd been quite close. Just two guys trying to figure things out. The Ministry wasn't always all sunshine and rainbows after all, and it helped to have a friend who he truly felt connected to. Someone who got him, who he could talk to for hours. Friends like that were few and far between, so what he had with his friend, he'd always valued.

But his friend had always been more of a restless soul than he was. Copia had responsibilities, people counting on him. Even back then, he'd worked so hard! Being employee of the month so consistently took a damn lot of effort. But where he was always pushing himself to his absolute limits, falling asleep at his desk sometimes, his friend seemed to find peace in wandering.

At first, it was just a day or so. Trip down into the town for a little fresh air. A taste of the real world beyond the gloomy, cold atmosphere that could envelop the Ministry some days. As time went on, it became a few days. Treating himself to a stay in a new hotel or air bnb. Getting out of the country, sometimes. Never with a word to anyone. He'd leave, and he'd return. And while poor Copia was quite frankly shitting himself every time it happened, he knew at least that his friend would come back. Usually, he was generous enough to drop some fleeting text letting him know a general time when he'd be back.

But not this time. One day had turned to two. And then three. It was fine, his friend was... probably just exploring some new cool place that he'd found. Copia tried not to worry. He had a band to manage, a tour to plan, and his friend had never needed a babysitter. He wasn't about to start being one now.

Then they reached the five day mark. No text, no letters, not even a bloody email. The Satanic Pope was very quickly beginning to credit his friend with being the source of the grey hairs he'd started to get salting his hair. Every text was left on delivered. Every call went straight to voicemail. Had he lost his phone? Forgotten his charger? Damn it, Copia just couldn't take it anymore, his friend could be in trouble and he'd have no idea because he was so poor at keeping in contact.

So he set out. He wasn't going to be the friend that did nothing and then get the news that something awful had happened. Something preventable. He just had to hope, as he weaved through the streets of a bustling little town that sat not far from the Ministry, only a short drive, that his friend hadn't wandered too far this time.