But it's better than drinkin' alone. Who: Johan, a few NPCs When: June 24th, evening Where: Outside a church Rating: PG
He stared at the church’s stone walls as the cool air seemed to still around him. He knew that this was the right thing to do, particularly with Julianna gone. He knew he needed help, that he couldn’t keep up a life of drinking and trying to clean up the mess behind him. But walking through those doors admitted so much that he wasn’t sure he had come to full terms with idea of being so… showy about his emotions. And the last time he’d been in a church had been for his parent’s funerals, and God knows that hadn’t been fun times for anyone at all as he slowly stood there. His black coat kept his torso warm, but his injured hand was aching and his lips felt cold.
Who the hell was he doing this for anyways? God had no part of his life, and his adopted parents sure hadn’t cared all that much the last time he called them up. Was this for Tayne? Was this his way of trying to be better for him, to be the kind of man that Tayne deserved at his side? The kind that didn’t pout, that could be happy toning down his usual affectionate side? Johan knew that he didn’t want to be that person… but he didn’t want to loose Tayne. It hurt, the idea that he might now be able to sleep next to the reluctant weretiger, but on the other hand, wasn’t his ‘not boyfriend’ part of the problem?
He knew his cycle. Johan wasn’t happy, so he drank. Being with Tayne made him unhappy, so he’d drink. No, correction- not being what Tayne wanted made him unhappy. But none of that mattered at all he just kept staring at the church, feet aching and begging for him to sit down already. Slowly he began to turn, to walk away before someone stepped out of the church with a wide smile.
“Johan- I’m so happy you made it. Why don’t you come in,” he said, looking all to pleased that the pianist had shown up. Johan slowly turned around and walked back into the church, looking at all the people who turned and stared at him from their metal folded seats- they'd already begun the ritual it seemed. “Do you know the basic gist of talking up there?” he man asked, pointing to the podium.
“Yeah,” Johan said softly, looking around and finally just breathing deeply and walking in front of the group of twenty. His hands were sweating, and it had nothing to do with the forty eyes staring at him as he clutched the sides of the wooden podium.