Mysterious Boy - McLennon

15.

It was almost pitch black in the sky by the time the boys reached Forthlin road. Usually when it got dark his father had already had way too much to drink, Paul just hoped that his father had taken a day off today.

"Are we close?" Mike whined, leaving his head onto the crook of Paul's neck as he yawned in his brothers arms.

"Yeah, just down here." Paul nodded. "Have you called your parents, John? Told them your staying at my house for a bit?"

"I texted my sister, I suppose she'll be the one to tell them. They never really pick up their phones anyway."

"Alright." Paul nodded.

There was still a part of his stomach set on fire with nervousness... He just prayed that Jim hadn't drank anything... Oh God, Paul should have sent him atleast a text or something saying he was bringing his boyfriend around... But now all he could do was hope.

The brown gate of their garden appeared as they passed their hedge, and the lights in both the living room and hallway of the house were off. Jim must have been asleep...

Paul was rather relieved.

He opened the gate, set Mike down on the floor, and pointed John in the direction of the door. He couldn't help but smile as Mike ran towards the door, a wide smile on his face.

"What do you want for tea, Mike?" Paul asked, placing his key into the keyhole.

"Mmmm... I dunno..." He shrugged.

"John?"

"Uh... I honestly don't mind." He nervously laughed, raising a hand to the back of his neck.

Oh no... John wasn't getting second ideas on the relationship thing, was he?

Paul seriously hoped not... Not just because of what his father believed, but also because of Paul's feeling towards him. Knowing that he had at least a part of John made him feel rather warm. It relaxed him when he'd been stressed just before...

"Da'?" Paul spoke as the door closed behind them.

His voice was sort of quiet, as if his father was asleep he definitely did not want to wake him right now. Waking him would put him in a bad mood, especially if he'd been drinking before he went to sleep.

Wait... What if Jim had left bottles or cans lying around?

"Uh... Mike, why don't you take John to the fridge, you two look at what you want for dinner?" Paul asked, a false smile on his face.

"Okay, Paulie." Before John could say anything, the small boy was dragging the older down the corridor.

-

Paul had been right... The area around Jim's old, green, cushioned arm chair was surrounded with cans of fosters, as well as an almost empty bowl of peanuts, in which half of the contents had been spilt over the floor.

His father's tattered and old Adidas trainers were laying on their sides infront of TV, the man having probably kicked them off carelessly. The only thing that didn't look a mess were the TV remotes, in which they'd been lined up perfectly on the oak wood TV stand.

"Fuck..." Paul muttered as he looked around the dimly lit room, having only turned on the lampshade.

The boy took a deep sigh, before getting started on clearing the room of its messy contents. He grabbed the small bin from the corner of the room, rushing over to the mess on the floor and individually picking all of the peanuts from the floor. Once the carpet was clear again, the boy shoved the rest of the peanuts in the bowl into the bin, then making a start on the cans. Paul threw each individual empty can into the bin one by one, shaking them first to check they were empty. He wasn't surprised when they were, Jim never really did leave any half drank. 

When the boy heard the door to the fridge shut from in the kitchen, he panicked, grabbing the final can by it's pull tab, slicing a horizontal line into his fingertip.

"Ah!" He yelped, dropping both the can into the bin and the bin onto the floor. Paul took a moment to breathe, thankful when the rubbish bin had landed upwards and did not fall over.

His finger, however, had blood trickling down it. Paul seethed as he saw it.

"Macca?" Paul turned to the door when he heard John's worried voice, and there the boy was, rushing into the living room with a confused four year old following behind him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.. Yeah I just cut my finger..." He shrugged, pretending it didn't hurt at all. But it did...

"What on?" The older asked, his eyes darting around the room.

"Nothing, i-it doesn't matter..." Paul told John, before turning to Mike. " Mikey, why don't you go and pick a film from the drawer while John and I go and bandage my finger?"

"O-Okay." The young boy nodded, rushing over to the TV stand. Paul made his way over to John, who had held the living room door open for him. 

Usually, he would have sent Mike up to get his iPad or bring one of his board games down, but Paul still had to check if Jim was awake or asleep. One thing was for sure, Jim was definitely drunk, and Paul did not want Mike near him when he was like that.

The kitchen was cold, but there were a few pizza's on the side that John and Mike must have selected to eat.

"You go and run it under the tap... I can get started on the pizza's, Macca." John stated, his voice sounding like it would not tolerate any other suggestion from Paul.

The younger just nodded, glancing back down to his finger only to be greeted with the blood now running down his hand. Paul turned the tap on, checking the water was cold before finally allowing the water to get rid of the blood and clear his would out. He seethed at the pain once more.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed John shoot him a nervous glance as he turned the oven on.

"I'm fine, it'll just make a little scar, is all." Pal sent a reassuring smile his way.

"If you say so..." John sighed, before waiting a few seconds to put the pizzas inside. Once in the oven, he spoke up again. "Mike told me your favourite pizza was chicken and bacon?"

Paul couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"Bet you think I'm a right weirdo." 

"No, not at all." John shook his head, smirking slightly at the older. "My sister Julia actually likes chicken and bacon pizza."

"At least it's not got pineapple on it."

"Oh, so we agree on that matter, then?" 

"Aye. I hate warm pineapple" Paul stated, making a 'eurgh' noise.

"Well, seems like we'd get along fine then..."

This time the smile that John gave him wasn't a worried one, rather a genuine smile. Their gaze stayed, both teenagers smiling at each other fondly.

"Paulie?" Mike interrupted them, re-entering the room with the movie 'wreck-it-ralph- in his tiny hands. "Can I go upstairs and get my iPad?"

"Uh..." Paul tried to hide the worry that fell through his body. He turned the tap off, drying his finger on a nearby piece of kitchen roll. "No. I'll go up and get it for you, Mike.. I need to grab a plaster from the bathroom anyway." 

"Okay..." Mike replied, unsurely.

"Why don't you stay with me, Mike? Help me make these pizza's?" At the thought of being able to stay with John, the boy's eyes lit up. He nodded furiously.

"Perfect..." Paul smiled, giving John a final smile. It was a weak one.

He made his way to the stairs.