Mysterious Boy - McLennon

16.

(A/N- Warning. Mentions of abuse after the .-.)

The stairs creaked as he climbed them, the tissue now stained with blood wrapped and tightly around his finger as he did. Paul tried to keep his movements quiet, not wanting to disturb Jim. He'd rather just get cleaned up, eat pizza and watch a film with John and Mike...

Paul opened the bathroom door, slowly so it didn't creak as loud. It was a movement he felt he'd mastered recently. The light flicked on because of the sensors in the room..

The bathroom was rather clean, apart from the conditioner and soap bottles left scattered inside of the bathtub. Jim must have knocked them off the shelf at some point.

He leant above the sink to the mirror, which when he opened up, showed the medicine cabinet. It was full of paracetamol, ibrupofen, bandages, plasters and Jim's sleeping tablets, the jar they came in being almost empty. Paul pushed the other stuff out of the way, taking the box of plasters in his hand.

A shiver travelled through his body at the cold air in the room, and he quickly took out a single plaster, shoving the box back into the cupboard and accidentally slamming the mirror door shut. He cringed at the noise, but focused on wrapping his finger around the cut.

The blood flow had almost fully dried, it was not running down his finger anymore, but he put it on anyway.

"Messing with my sleeping tablets are you?" A slurred voice came from behind him, causing the boy to jump and immediately turn around.

His father was there, the top two buttons of his plaid shirt undone and in his old pair of joggers. The drunken man's hands clinger onto the wooden door frame as his eyes glared into Paul's own. He looked angry.

.-.
"No, daddy... I just came to get a plaster." Paul pointed at his finger, proving his point to the man.

Jim just took a deep breath, looking down at Paul's hand. He didn't say anything else on the matter.

"Why were you home late?" His voice was monotone, but Paul could still feel his aggression.

"I took Mike to the park."

"W-Why didn't you message me? Or call me? Or tell me this morning?" His voice started to grow louder, and Paul could now hear him start to slur his words. The man's eyelids looked heavy.

"I- You weren't up this morning, daddy..." Paul stuttered out himself, the rising of the man's tone beginning to scare Paul. He really hoped Jim didn't do anything, John was downstairs!

"I was awake." He spat. "I-I was but my own sons would rather set off early than see their father! They leave me to worry... Alone... Here in t-this house." His eyes looked to the ground as he spoke the second sentence, as if the answer to why Paul and Mike weren't there was written on the floor. "I don't fuckin' get it!"

"Maybe if you stopped getting drunk all day then you'd wake up at a normal time!" Paul snapped.

He didn't know why he did it... He just broke. The feelings got to him, his father got to him, and he just snapped.

But as soon as the words had fell from his tongue, he regretted it.

Two hands grabbed Paul's shoulders, pinning him up against the wall. They were of course his father's, the man who's drunken anger had quickly turned violent because of bc Paul's stupid words.

"Say that to me again..." He sneered, teeth gritted.

Paul yelped as Jim's fingernails dug deeper.

Although Jim was clearly drunk, Paul had seen the evidence, he seemed mostly aware of what was going on. That Paul's words had been a mistake, that he wished he hadn't said them.

"Say that to m-me again...!"

"I'm sorry." He whimpered.

"Say it!" He pulled his left hand back from Paul's shoulder, into the air.

The hand taunted Paul.

"I-I'm s-sorry Daddy... I didn't mean it... Please..." He felt himself tearing up. "It was a mistake, please..."

"W-Why shouldn't I, eh?" Jim sneered. "Give me a fuckin' good reason!"

"Because my boyfriend is downstairs!" Paul whisper shouted.

Jim's face immediately changed, the man's hand slowly falling to his side. He took a step back, his eyes still looking at Paul, but now as if they were trying to look to see if Paul was lying.

When laughter was heard downstairs, Jim's gaze drifted to the stairs, his other hand slowly leaving Paul's tensed shoulders.

The young boy had to stop himself from releasing a deeply relieved sigh.

"I'm sorry, daddy... But please don't... I didn't mean to say it..." Paul whispered to him once more, his voice pleading like that of Mike's when he really wanted something. But Paul just wanted Jim to stop, for him to go back to sleep so Paul could have an alright night...

"What his name?" The man asked, still looking at the stairs, as if John was stood at the bottom of them.

"John." Paul simply stated.

It was quiet for a few more seconds, Paul looking at the side of his father's face carefully, waiting to see if he pulled any more tricks.

But he didn't.

When the man had stopped staring, he closed his eyes, clenching his fists and beginning to speak.

"This isn't over." The man spoke through gritted teeth once more.

.-.
But they were the final words from the man before he finally exited the bathroom. Paul watched him closely still, very grateful when the man opened his bedroom door and closed it behind him.

The young boy finally let out that sigh of relief, his head falling against the wall as a few tears slipped past his face. He had gotten away with it. For now, anyway.

Paul had no idea what went through that man's head... But whatever it was... It was unpredictable.

He checked his face in the mirror, wiping away any stray tears. Paul rinsed his face with cold water, seething again when it his his face.

Paul then travelled to Mike's room, slowly, grabbing the iPad from inside of his bedside drawer. He also grabbed a board game, Mike's favourite, game of life, and excited the room.

-

The rest of that night was undisturbed by Jim, who had remained in his room for the entirety of it. They watched a film, played the board game, and eat food as it went on.

Paul took Mike to bed at 8pm, laying him down in his own bed, knowing that he'd sleep better that night if he knew Mike was next to him.

John stayed for another half an hour, and the two chatted. They had great conversations, and John had really managed to tear Paul's thoughts away from how close he'd been to a crippling beating.

John had saved him, and for that he had to thank him at some point.