Date: 2024-11-07 03:40 am (UTC)
lovethyneighb_or: (stella splendens)
Intolerably, blessedly, devastatingly, miraculously, Radar is still here. Impossibly, at the end of the dark valley, he is still here.

He curls into him. Mulcahy's taller than him by a good few inches, but he's never felt so small in his life. He feels like a child. More than that (and this is why he can afford to act this way at all), he feels sheltered. When was the last time he felt like this? Like there was anything at his back? Like he could come in from the cold?

(Angel. Gaeta. Is this what they meant? Do they think about him like this too? Oh, God.)

He's a quiet crier, at least; the only sounds he makes are breathy gasps. Peter jingles quietly as he approaches again, chirping in concern as he touches down on Mulcahy's head.
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Reverend Francis John Patrick Mulcahy

April 2024

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