They Say It's Never Too Late to Start Again [Closed]

[numberedshepherd]

Who: Lazarus, Nathan and Micah
What: Three adult orphans decide to be each others' family for Christmas by going to midnight mass.
Where: A Catholic church in Christchurch
When: December 24-25



Though Micah lives in New L.A., he was cognizant of what might be easiest for his companions for the midnight mass he'd invited them to. He'd taken a risk by doing so; Lazarus is Jewish to begin with and lacks the conviction of faith, and Nathan has every reason to believe that there's no kind God watching over him. Still, both young men had accepted the invitation, gravitating toward the gesture replete with kindness, warmth and unity like two plants deprived of water and sunlight. Still, it was a risk that had paid off for reaching those brittle winter boys whose others had had a meteor's impact on Mello, even if they had been at polar opposite ends of the good will spectrum.

Lazarus is still unsteady on his healing leg, but he has accepted the use of a cane as a part of his life until the muscles in his thigh recover more fully from the deep and disfiguring burn that Tony's doppelganger had left him with. As they enter the church, he glances toward the pews in back, but ultimately looks to Micah for guidance and direction. Wherever someone more accustomed to this sort of building decrees is OK, he'll defer to. As for Nathan... well, his default state is deference.

Comments

[enflammen]

Micah prefers sitting in the back of the room; you get a fuller picture from that location, and besides, knowing there are other people at his back makes him uneasy. He'd rather have eyes on him where he can see them, too.

He's been to this church a few times in recent weeks, since visiting Lazarus at the hospital and deciding to stick around for a while; he gives an acknowledging nod to a young couple standing in the aisle, and returns a wave from an older man sitting a few pews forward. He gestures to the back row, indicating an open space where the three of them will fit.

"Remember," he says, quietly, to both Nathan and Lazarus, "don't feel obligated to do anything you're not comfortable with. It's fine to stay seated the whole time." The last bit especially for Lazarus, given the state of his leg, which Micah guesses won't be up to the repeated standing and kneeling the service entails.

[solvethepuzzle]

Nathan has never been a believer, but that is not what tonight is about. It's about spending time with important people. He considers himself fortunate to have any of those, in all honesty. Even if he and Micah still tiptoe around each other, trying to find some point at which they can both be comfortable.

He keeps by Lazarus's side by default, letting Micah take the lead as he is truly the only one here who knows what he is doing. Is it silly to feel a bit out of place at a church? Perhaps, or perhaps not, but Nathan has an edge of that regardless.

"Right." Nathan . . . still doesn't know what all he will be comfortable with. Part of him is afraid that doing anything will come off as insincere. He will just have to see how he feels as the service goes on.

And another part of him is relieved when Micah indicates a spot at the back of the room. Fewer eyes on him that way.

[numberedshepherd]

Lazarus watches warily as Micah seems familiar with those around them. They interact like friends, and even though places of worship of any faith have always made it difficult for him to relax, it helps that the blond at his side has found a sense of belonging in such places. It's what he and Nathan are here to share in, open-minded and yearning for community and comfort.

He shuffles toward the backmost row, avoiding eye contact with the other churchgoers because he's afraid of what he'll see in their faces. Part of him thinks that they'll see him and know, just by looking, that he's failed, let others come to harm, come away maimed himself. He works his way toward the middle of the row so that if others need to leave the pew during worship, they won't have to climb over him or make him rise, and he nods to make it clear that he's understood as he waits for Nathan to sit beside him, and he glances the young man's way for a hint of solidarity, or at least that they are like-minded in how lost they are.

[enflammen]

Micah wasn't always so comfortable in church. For a long time, he too felt lost and out of place, like a fraud who didn't belong. It took him a while to not only believe but to understand the words he'd recite during mass, to get to the point where he could say them without feeling insincere.

It's hard to feel like you belong when you're alone and against the world for so much of your life, from such a young age. It's hard, but it's not impossible. And while Micah still feels sometimes like he doesn't belong, just in a small space of his mind that grows louder when he's too quiet, too still, for too long, he can't deny that he feels a certain sense of belonging with Lazarus and Nathan - tied together through the tragedies of their pasts.

Still. Micah recognizes this isn't exactly a comfortable situation for the other two, and he's grateful they're willing to make an effort to join him for this. It's important, and they're important. That's why he asked them to come along, after all.

"Remember to breathe," he murmurs in their direction with a faint smile.

[solvethepuzzle]

A feeling of belonging is something that's often passed Nathan by. He'd never quite fit anywhere, found so few people like him. Lazarus had been the first, back when Nathan had been only ten; it's what had prompted him to ever approach him in the first place. And he's more at home among the Numbered than he's been around most, even if being a mundane human is not the norm for them. There is a certain irony in being one of the odd ones out in a group that is comprised of odd ones out.

But he's found a little place, and he likes it, even if it is not always the most comfortable, given their pasts.

He sits quietly, as he does everything quietly if he can help it. A combination of natural inclination and long practice. Being as unobtrusive as possible is always the goal. He glances over at Lazarus in return, and the other knows him well enough to see that vaguely lost expression under otherwise smooth features. He's little better off than Lazarus on these matters. But they are here nonetheless.

The briefest hint of a wry smile at Micah's reminder. Right. Breathing. Trying to keep the nerves down. Is it too early to start twisting his fingers into his hair yet?

[numberedshepherd]

Feeling like a fraud is about right, some kind of heathen imposter who has no business among real people whose lives aren't tattered and frayed and barely clinging to their bones. Lazarus doesn't know if he can speak during this mass, any more than he can comfortably stand for very long.

He's making that effort though, and not just for Micah's sake. There's perhaps always been a religion-shaped hole in the fabric of his soul, something that yearns for ritual and practice and assurance. And though he's seen the stars, and the Boy who engineered all that he knew, he's learned that belief is more of a decision than something passive that just happens.

He reaches for the hymnal, flipping through it for anything he might now. Not much turns up, but there are some Christmas carols he's heard in passing. So much of Christmas is just what he's witnessed from the outside each season, understanding why it's cherished while not really feeling like it's something he's meant to be a part of.

"Do you know this one?" he whispers to Nathan, pointing out God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.