Scared

Chapter 15

A scream. A bang. Another scream. Another bang.

Paul was standing in front of John, eyes wide as saucers and mouth agape.

John was screaming. Loud screams and whines were ripping from his throat. His right foot, clad in only his sock, was constantly banging against the wall.

A slight crack was forming on it, some drywall falling off.

John's whole face was red, damp with tears and snot dripping off of his nose.

Paul was scared.

He was scared John was going to hurt himself. And he couldn't be able to defend him.

He had tried early to stop his fit, but it only resulted in him getting punched by the thrashing boy.

But he was afraid he was going to hurt himself.

Slowly walking closer, like a predator with its prey, he kneeled over.

When he reached over, his hand grasping one of his shoulders, John jerked, looking up with big scared eyes.

He was still shouting, body shaking and he didn't want to be held.

Paul pushed him against his body, feeling him struggle and try to break free.
As much as he struggled, he only pushed him further against his chest, softly shushing.

He buried his face into the soft auburn locks, breathing in the sweet smell of his hair, shushing him gently.

John was calming down slowly but surely, breath coming out in puffs against his neck as he shifted and turned.

"Darling, it's alright, I've got you" whispered Paul nuzzling his face close to his.

John's damp skin itched his, but it wasn't bothering the older man. His body was still quivering, his eyes now close and still leaking tears.

He held him close, eyes closed and voice soft, barely a whisper.

He didn't know what was wrong; and this thing bothered him a lot.

John didn't even want to talk about whatever was bothering him.

He looked troubled when he arrived, yet he started screaming and crying when Paul had asked what was on his mind.

That was the difficult part of his relationship with him: John often acted like a child, throwing tantrums, being noisy, being naive. And Paul often had to act like a father figure rather than a lover.

Often, his touches had to be careful; gentle, but no way sexual.
Sometimes, like in that moment, John was acting like a scared child in need of comfort.

Paul sat more comfortably against the wall, sitting upwards John. He grasped him around his middle, pushing him against his chest, one hand splayed in his hair.

John was still breathing in harshly and shakily, body curled up tight, muscles tense.

Paul's chin got to rest on top of his head, eyes slipping closer.

He rocked slightly back and forth, smiling lightly when John hummed and rubbed his head under his chin, like a cat in search of affection.

Paul pushed him slightly away to look into those big almond shaped eyes, "Are you alright, John love?"

All the concern was showing and John was aware of that.

He shook his head a little, leaning back down and cuddling back.

"What's wrong, love?"

A shake of head.

"Johnny, please, talk to me"