Scared

Chapter 7

Soft light filtered through the open window. Birds were chirping happily and Paul was as happy as them.

He had just woken up, a mouthful of soft auburn hair into his mouth.

He shifted slightly, looking down at the boy sleeping in his arms.

John looked so soft in his sleep. His mouth was slightly agape and his body curled up like a cat's.

Paul started caressing his naked back and shifted in bed. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

He looked down, raising up the covers and seeing a large wet spot under them.

The movements woke John up, who yawned and confusedly looked down, following Paul's eyes.

His eyes widened.

"Oh God" he shrieked, jumping up, "Oh God, Paul I'm so sorry! I didn't do it on purpose!"

Paul looked at him, seeing the tears surfacing into his big brown eyes.

"John, no! Don't worry, love, it's all right" he immediately said, grabbing the other man and hugging him.

They stayed locked into their hug, John cuddled against his chest and Paul gently whispering in the crown of auburn hair.

"I'm still sorry, Paul love" whispered John, moving away from his chest so he could look the other in the eyes.

Paul smiled, leaning down to press a kiss onto his nose, "It's all right, love" he cooed, leaning down to kiss his lips.

"Next time, we will remember to put you into a nappy" he kindly said, brushing away a lock of auburn hair from his forehead.

John blushed even harder, shoulders slumping and eyes glazing over.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled softly. He then got up abruptly, quickly walking to the bathroom.

Paul followed him, only to find the door locked.

"John, please, open the door" said the dark haired one, knocking on the door with a slight sigh.

John's moods were unpredictable, often passing from completely happy to sad.

Since John wasn't opening the door, no matter how much Paul knocked and pleaded and told him everything was alright, he walked downstairs and into the kitchen.

No one was there, but Paul found some pancakes into a plate on the table, together with a card written by Mimi.

The woman had gone to work, trusting Paul to take care of John and bringing him at the facility.

Paul walked back upstairs with a tray, on it there were two mugs of fuming tea and two plates with three pancakes each.

He went to the bedroom, putting down the tray, before walking back to the bathroom to try and bring John out of it.

"John love" he whispered, knocking, "breakfast is ready. Also I told you, I don't think anything less about you just because you wet the bed"

The door clicked open and Paul opened it, quickly entering.

John was curled up into the full bathtub, unmoving.

Paul concernedly got closer, kneeling next to him.

He hesitantly reached over, fingers brushing the soft locks, and John looked at him with a lost expression.

"It's really all right. I'm not disgusted at all. I know it's not something you can control, sweetie. It's alright. I'm here for you, okay?" he said softly, staring into his eyes.

John's face reddened, before he threw his arms around Paul's neck. The man smiled gently, hearing the soft 'I love you' John mumbled in the crook of his neck.

Paul smiled gently, rubbing his wet back, making him giggle slightly.

He walked out and quickly changed the bedsheets, before walking back into the bathroom.

John was splashing in the water, smiling brightly at Paul, who walked towards the tub and resumed his kneeling position.

"D'you want me to wash ya?" he asked, one hand ruffling John's already damp hair.

John giggled, giving him a cloth, "Paulie, what are we gonna do today during therapy?" he asked, humming softly at the soft friction in his hair.

"I can't tell you"

John pouted, crossing his arms and Paul laughed, "Okay okay, I was thinking some painting, if you want"

At that, his expression lit up and he smiled brightly, "Yes!" he shouted excitedly, splashing a bit of water out of the tub.

Paul was happy to see his boyfriend so motivated.

Because as much as he loved him, he was his therapist first; he knew John needed help.

"Okay, love, c'mon let's go" he said, helping him out of the tub.

John meekly let him pick him up and carry in the bedroom, where they quickly ate their breakfast and Paul helped John get dressed.

As much as John was actually able to do things on his own, he very much preferred Paul doing them.

He sat motionless on the bathroom counter, letting Paul brush his hair and gently talking him through everything.

It was peaceful.

And in Paul's mind, nothing looked wrong or weird.

He was going to do everything he could to make his boyfriend happy.

Boyfriend. That word still sent excited shivers through his spine.

He loved John, he really did and was sure that the lad loved him too.

Soon, they found themselves at the clinic, John happily skipping the black tiles of the floor, laughing and twirling in Paul's grip.

Once they were in the room with all the art supplies, John pleaded Paul to put on a record. Paul complied, putting on an Everly Brothers record, much to the younger man's joy.

"Can I have some ice cream?"

"What? You want ice cream?" asked amused Paul.

He was looking at John colouring, seeing how the boy was trying to be as perfect as he could.

"Yes, can I have some?" he asked, looking up with pleading puppy eyes.

Paul smiled, ruffling his hair a little, "Sure, love. What flavour?"

John shrieked excitedly, telling he wanted chocolate, before resuming his painting, tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth.

Paul looked at him eating ice cream and trying to colour at the same time.

It was so chaotic it was cute.

Sometimes, John acted like a child, with his need to be loved and praised and the way he was moving.

Paul had actually seen his medical chart, he knew about the slight mental delay he had, which was caused, apparently, by Julia, his biological mother, drinking through pregnancy and living John homealone when he was just a few months old, which Paul knew could actually make damage in developing babies.

And yet, Paul loved him as a boyfriend. He also knew that John was usually quite lucid and knew what he was doing and what was happening most of the time.

He was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by John plopping down on his lap, requesting cuddles with a slight pout and Paul had to laugh.

He quickly cuddled him, softly rubbing his face with his knuckles.

John, like a cat, rubbed his cheek against his knuckles, before curling up to fit better into his lap and bury himself in his chest, happily humming in delight.

With a kiss on the top of his head, Paul picked up the rest of his ice cream, eating it peacefully with his beautiful boy on his lap.