The midmorning sun shone warmly through the windows, lighting the otherwise dim, sparsely furnished studio. Jesus felt it on his eyelids, almost stinging his eyes and finally awoke. He slowly sat up, refreshed after sleeping in, rubbing the goop out of his eyes with his hands. He knew he had a pleasant dream but couldn't remember what he had dreamt of. There was an air of friendship, affection, kindness, warm colors, birds and rabbits flocking to a stoic golden figure… He placed his hand to his right, expecting to feel Buddha's gentle shoulder under it. But he was alone. Instead his hand landed on Buddha's futon. He had snuck out while Jesus was still sleeping. There was a note left on his pillow. Jesus picked it up to read it. It said:

"went to store to catch morning sale. didn't wanna wake you up, sleeping beauty. be back soon!

Buddha ヾ(｡･ω･｡)"

He just went to go grocery shopping, Jesus thought to himself. So we can eat. Jesus loved Buddha's cooking. It wasn't the best tasting food he ever had per se, but he could taste the heart and soul Buddha put into it. Still, he wished Buddha had woken him up to at least ask if he wanted to join him. He felt his heart sink a little, dragging down his mood with it. He was hardly ever apart from Buddha. He had grown accustomed to waking up next to him, watching him sleep, listening to his funny little noises and watching the cute little faces he made. Jesus always felt so safe in Buddha's presence, with his calming Buddha smile and smiling eyes. He felt almost incomplete without him, a yang without its yin. Still sitting up, he grabbed the pillow Buddha sleeps on and held it close to his heart. He caught a whiff of Buddha's scent on it. Musky, fleshy, floral, exotic. He closed his eyes, rubbed his cheek on the pillow like a cat leaving his mark, and imagined he was holding Buddha himself in his arms. He rocked back and forth so's to comfort himself. His heart beat slowly sped up as blood rushed to every capillary in his body. Jesus thought of Buddha's peculiar curly hair, how it looked when he wore it down. Velvety sepia curls cascading down his shoulders, his back, his chest, enveloping Jesus' ribcage as if to draw him nearer.

Lingering over Buddha's fragrance was unbearable for Jesus. He scuttled over to the window facing the street, adjacent to the golden Buddha statue. He pushed back the curtain to look onto the street and see if his friend who he missed so dearly was returning yet. There were just random people passing by. Some alone, some not. He heaved heavily and bit his cheek, looking up to the statue, gazing down on their small apartment. He was hoping the figure would work as a placeholder for the real Buddha's presence, but it didn't have his warmth or spirit. A cold, gilded idol could never hold a candle to true flesh and blood. Jesus looked back out the window and saw his friend walking down the street. Joy and excitement swelled in his chest pushing his heart to the heavens. Buddha wore a faint half-smile on his oblong face and carried a bag with what appeared to be a daikon, some cucumbers, a cabbage, and other things he couldn't make out inside it. Buddha was the more fiscally responsible of the two, so Jesus was sure everything in there was a real bargain but still fresh. There was a small breeze outside. Jesus savored the sight of Buddha's droopy earlobes fluttering in the wind. Some people found his earlobes strange, but Jesus found them endearing. They reminded him of a dog's ears, the way they dangled over his shoulders. Buddha never liked it when people touched them though, because they were so sensitive. When he reached the gate, he glanced up to the window and saw Jesus staring at him. He didn't think much of it, though. He was just happy to see his face. He smiled at him, but Jesus was mortified and felt defenseless. He hid underneath the pane.

"Oh Geez," Jesus yelled at himself in his head, "what am I doing? He saw me! He's going to think I'm… Oh Father, I'm so confused! He's my friend but he feels like more than that… I don't know what to do! Oh no, did Buddha go without me because he didn't want to be around me? But he called me a sleeping beauty! What did he mean by that? Father, I-"

Before Jesus could finish his thought/prayer, the door began to open. Jesus rushed to the futons to store them back in the closet, make it appear he wasn't just sitting and moping around waiting for Buddha to get back. Buddha stepped in, expecting to see a Jesus who was happy to see him but instead saw one who was almost mortified to be around him, fumbling with the bedding. He wondered to himself if and why Jesus was trying to avoid him. He set the groceries on the kitchen counter and asked Jesus if he was OK.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" he responded. "Just putting these things away."

"You need help with that?" Buddha was genuinely confused and worried about Jesus. He was acting so out of character.

"Um, nope! Nope nope nope it's no big deal! I got it!" Jesus was so flustered he managed to trip over himself while walking the two feet over to the closet. He felt he was literally dying of embarrassment. Then it happened: his stigmata sprung out and there was blood running down his face. "I got it, it's fine!"

Buddha was shocked to see Jesus struggling so much and the blood. He yelled, "Jesus, you're bleeding all over the futons!" He grabbed a towel to dab the blood off his face. "Just stop moving!" Jesus obeyed and kneeled down, bowed down his head in shame. Buddha knelt with him and gently blotted off the blood from his face. He could feel Jesus slightly shiver when he was stroking his face with the cloth. Soon he felt Jesus release his tension and surrender to his touch. He kept his eyes squarely on Jesus' throughout even when Jesus kept his focused on the carpet. He could sense his inner torment, but where it came from he couldn't deduce.

"B-Buddha," Jesus stuttered, "I'm sorry for acting so strange. I just-"

"Don't worry about it, my friend," Buddha said in his most reassuring tone. "We all have our days when we are not quite ourselves and need those who care about us to lift us up again and remind us who we are." Buddha placed his fingers under Jesus' chin to raise his head and see Jesus' now clean face. He tilted it left, then right, with caring to see if he missed a spot. Jesus saw he wasn't flashing a Buddha smile at him but a true, kind smile. Jesus only managed to work up a half grin. There was no halo of light around Buddha's head, but Jesus could feel his aura of understanding emanating off him.

"Oh, Buddha…"

"I'm just glad to see you."

Jesus finally smiled. The weight on his heart lifted off into the air and he threw his arms around Buddha, his crown of thorns bursting into roses. He nuzzled his head under Buddha's chin. Buddha hesitated at first, but then embraced him back. He stroked Jesus's waves and gently rubbed his chin along Jesus' crown, safe from his actual crown of thorns. His hair was soft and satiny, but he could also feel it was unwashed and uncombed. He discreetly sniffed his scalp and found the mixed scent of his unclean hair and roses soothing. It was… his. They stayed like this for a while, in each other's arms, lightly leaning into each other. Gently massaging each other's back with the tips of their fingers. Their breathing in perfect synchronization with one another, inhaling their aromas.

"I'm glad too see you too, B-Buddha."