Scared

Chapter 12

There were times when Paul's relationship with John was difficult.

The man loved the younger one very much, but often, John's moods and behaviours were difficult to predict and understand.

"John, please, tell me what's wrong" pleaded Paul, one hand rubbing John's soft naked tummy.

His eyes were showing concern, eyeing worriedly the other man.

Though he wasn't crying as hard as before, John had woken up completely panicked.

No matter how much Paul asked, even using ways to make him say things he usually used during therapy, he wasn't able to coax an answer out of him.

"Love, please, what's wrong? Are you in pain? Have you got a fever?" asked the man, hand gently brushing away hair from his face.

John wasn't really sobbing, but his breath was a bit shaky.
Tears were freely falling from his eyes down his soft cheeks and even his nose was snotty and running.

Paul grabbed a tissue, softly dabbing his blotchy cheeks, before holding it up to his nose for him to blow.

It was in moments like those where Paul felt more like a caretaker rather than a boyfriend.

He knew it wasn't fair for him to get angry at John.

His initial job was that one; John's therapist and caretaker.

John would love to live a perfectly normal life, being able to do things on his own and not be so dependent upon others.

But they both knew something like that couldn't happen.
Maybe John could learn how to control his emotions differently, but he couldn't dream of living a normal life.

He would forever be in need of some sort of caretaker, no matter what.

So all Paul could do was to hold him and shush him softly, reaching out whenever he was panicking too much.

In those moments, he felt like a parent too. John wasn't communicating at all, so Paul had to play guess with him, just like a parent with their little child.

"Johnny, shhh, relax love, nothing is wrong, I'm here, okay?" he whispered into the top of the soft auburn locks, gently rocking the spooked man until he was calm and sleepy again.

What bothered Paul the most though, was not knowing what bothered John to the point of tears.

He hated seeing him so helpless, so scared and overwhelmed.

He was afraid he had hurt him by pushing himself too hard in him, but John had assured him it was not that.

But it wasn't physically that Paul was concerned about, it was mentally.

John had been in and out of sleep, and everytime he was waking up, he would cling to Paul tightly, like a wounded scared animal.

With a heavy heart, but with love filling him to the brim, Paul dozed off lightly, still holding his loved one to his chest.

Paul woke up by light hitting his eyes. He tiredly opened his eyes, furrowing his brows at the beaming light.

John was still asleep curled up on his chest, eyes closed tight and body folded up on itself.

He looked so peaceful, yet his cheeks were still traced with dried tear tracks.

McCartney couldn't help but coo at him, taking in the most adorable sight on earth.

He gently started stroking his head, making the sleeping man lean into the touch.

After a little while, big almond shaped brown eyes opened a little, still clouded by sleep.