"Our help is in the name of the Lord," 'John' chanted from the paper in front of him. "Who made the heavens and the earth," came the congregational response.
       "I s-said, I will confess my transgressions to the Lord."
       "And you forgive the iniquity of my sin."
       "Oh most merciful God, You gave Your only-begotten S-Son to die for us, have mercy upon us and for His sake grant us remission of all our sins; and by Your Holy Spirit increase in us true knowledge of You and of Your will and true obedience to Your Word, to the end that by Your grace we may come to everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." 'John', bowed his head and nodded to the Elders approaching the bench. Each bowed, receiving a nod and a collection plate.
       The sound of smooth piano music filled the air as 'John' sat on a bench behind the podium, taking a quick drink and going over the rest of the service. He stood after a moment and smiled politely, looking out over the congregation. He found Sam smiling at him, looking away after a moment to place his offering into the plate. The ginger gave a nod of encouragement, it seemed, telling Morty he was enjoying the sermon. Sam had told Morty a while ago that he enjoyed the services. They made him feel better after his hellish time at the club. Morty was glad to help, but he always wished he could go back to way before this happened, before he became this stupid pastor. He was living a literal lie. He no longer believed most of what he preached.
       "Friends, visitors," 'John' addressed the congregation with a curt nod as he accepted the offering plates, setting them off to the nearby bench. "I have an announcement. Th-This Thursday, as we end the summer festival this month, a r-race will be held. As part of a fundraiser, I will be par-participating." Slight applause filled the room and 'John' smiled politely. "I would like to in-invite all of you to come out and support this race, and those willing should join me. I might need somebody to carry me to the end," 'John' joked, grinning as many laughed heartily. "This Thursday, 3-4 PM. The race is somewhat lengthy."
       The sound of piano soon filled the room again and 'John' grabbed a hymnal. "Join me in hymn 172 to finish this glorious morning."
       As the music filled the air, the acolyte extinguishing the candles to the congregation singing, 'John' took the moment to reminisce. Once in his life, he'd been one of these people, putting their heart into their beliefs, eating up every single word and finding solace in the sermon. He wholeheartedly believed in everything Father Bob once told him. 
       Now, however.. now 'John' found it hard to believe anything at all. If God was real, and if he was so kind, so loving, then why was 'John' left like this? Left to rot, to suffer with the memories of who he was, of who he had been with, of who he cared for? Left with the memories of friends and a lover that only used him anyway? Why was he left with any of it?
       If God was real, a man supposed to be so kind and forgiving, then why was 'John' left to suffer this hell? 

*~*~*

       Rick sat in the back room of the club, downing a glass of whiskey once again. His head was spinning, the world tipping everywhere, yet he somehow kept his head up. People were taking advantage of his drunken state, and even he knew it. He just didn't have it in himself to care anymore. 
       "Evon," he slurred, beckoning to the petite male across the room. The young man walked awkwardly towards Rick, his hands held together in front of himself in the small shorts he wore. "Yes?" he questioned, standing awkwardly to the side of Rick's chair, distancing himself. "Every time, I tell you," Rick grumbled. "Sorry," the man apologized. "Yes, uh... daddy?" he whispered the pet name, something Rick had grown used to.
       They never said it loud enough, like they were proud of whose they were. They were never glad to call him by such a name. They didn't praise him, they didn't come near him unless forced. 

       "No fucking wonder they did-didn't show you any humanity! You built th-this pitiful story for your-yourself, but you- you did that t-t-to yourself!" 

       Rick growled lowly at the sudden, intruding, memory, watching Evon nearly piss himself and flinch back a bit. But Morty had been right. Rick did it to himself. He made them all afraid of him. The fact that the brunet knew who he really was, the fact that he stuck around after finding out, was what really hit home. Even after he found out, he never ran for the hills. He sought comfort in the one that had hurt him.
       He never ran from Rick because he was scared, either. It was only ever when he was pissed beyond belief. The first time, the boy had run away because Rick had hit him across the face, but the two weren't that close then; hadn't been living together. That was resolved after a short while, after Morty went and killed two people and had Ri- called Rick first thing to come pick him up, saying 'I m-missed yo-you, D-Daddy' in that beautiful, broken little voice of his. 

       "You're fired," Rick stated bluntly, staring out the mirror now. "But-!" 
       "Fired," Rick repeated, glaring now at the man. He watched Evon gather his things and rush out the back door in a huff, obviously crying. He'd only been working a few days, so it was obvious he'd be a little upset for being fired for what must have seemed like no reason. 

       "I miss you, too, baby," Rick muttered, pouring himself a new drink.

       As Rick sat back in his chair, glad the room was quiet while he sipped at his whiskey, he thought back to the second time Morty had left him. He'd gotten pissed because Rick didn't believe the little hot-shot had taken Jack out after a simple meeting. He'd been upset because Rick didn't have enough faith in him. However, he'd only disappeared for a day, Rick retrieving him because he simply couldn't stand being in that damned house alone after he'd just gotten used to Morty and Charles giving the place that breath of life it'd needed since Rick had moved in.
       The third time Morty had left was one of the hardest. The brunet had, apparently, found that he didn't like who he was becoming, though it was revealed to Rick over a year later that Morty had found his videos and simply didn't like what he'd found. He'd left for a year, a fucking year, and had come back a few times, happy as could be. Rick had been thoroughly convinced Morty would never come back to him, but, by some stroke of luck, though not so much to the brunet, Jessica had left him. Morty had admitted to missing his old life long before that, but the action alone was what kicked Morty's ass into gear and set him diving head-first into his old life. It had gone so swimmingly, Morty kicking ass and taking names, building a larger title for himself. God, Rick had been so moved simply by being able to stand at the brunet's side. The boy'd had so much power Rick could scarcely keep his hands off of him at that point. It was the best thing, having somebody with so much power still bend to his will. Of course, it had led to the brunet feeling like Rick was just using him, though the man would never know anything further. Morty spent his last moments thinking Rick was using him like a toy.
       That was not the case. Rick had, at one point, had so many plans for the two. They were going to take over as much of the world as they could together. Nobody would be able to stop them. Nobody would be able to touch them. They would have been the unstoppable duo; the little boy with a black heart of gold and the man of brutish power.
       Now it was nothing more than the heartbroken man wishing he hadn't sent the boy to his grave, continuing to drown his sorrows until, maybe someday soon, he found it within himself to just quit. He'd been trying to fill the hole, to pretend he was fine with this, but it wasn't worth it anymore. He wasn't okay, nothing could fix this. Nothing ever would.
       He'd guarded himself for so long. He'd kept it all up for Morty. He wanted to give him his damned normal life, the 'I love you's, the long nights sitting in the sand and talking about everything and nothing. He wanted to give him all of it. He had wanted Morty to spend the rest of his life with him, wanted to tell Gary to fuck off and let them be together.
       It would forever be too late. So Rick would settle with the whores, the pictures, the booze, and the fast cars. He was broken and untouchable, deranged with near-infinite power. He was in a state of everything and nothing, and he wouldn't be coming out for a long while.