Who: @insainted
When: End of April
Where: Mal's condo
Step nine.
Amends.
Righting his wrongs. That was what he was doing. What he had to do. John-Paul couldn't leave things the way they were between him and Mal - one of the only people he truly trusted, who knew damn near everything about him, even things Charlie and Jeremiah weren't privy to. Whether they realized it or not, they are his best friend. Were anyway. Now they weren't even talking. Because of his fucking mental bullshit. Nevermind that it as always exaserbated by his drug use.
He shook away the spiraling blame and reminders of all his faults threatening to derail him as he headed down the hall, straight to Mal's new condo. Amends fucker. Stay on track. His heart began to pound and his hands trembled lightly, the soft click of bottles quietly ringing out because of it. He shook his free hand in an attempt to release his apprehension, the sensation snaking its way thorugh his torso. John-Paul whispered his planned speech to get back in Mal's good graces to himself as he came to a stop at their door and knocked.
A speech he completely forgot once she opened the door and the two of them were finally face to face again. "Mal, hey. Um, how're, how're you doing? No, that's not, I just wanted to," he started rambling, shutting his eyes to quickly regain his footing, glancing down at the bottles in his hand. Remember why you're here. "Truce?" he finally asked, holding up the beers, bringing his gaze back to theirs. "I just want to talk," he added in explanation, wiggling the drinks with gentle enticement.