St. Peter's Church

15

John's POV

The room was dark and smelled of sweat and alcohol.

The air was also oddly... damp.

We had just finished our second gig in this club, and the uppers I had taken with the others earlier were still affecting me harshly, and I was more full of energy than ever.

I was also pretty pissed, knowing how much I had drank after the show.

"Do you think you could handle doing this more often?" Stu asked me, sitting by my side, "I mean, like, hours on end all day?"

The idea was a bit scary, but if I was being honest, I wasn't opposed to it.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind, as long as we can keep takin' those pills to keep us steady," I responded.

Christ, I can't get him off my mind.

Ever since that dream I had last night, everything about him that I already loved, had suddenly grown stronger.

I just wanted to show him that I could treat him better than any bird could. I wanted to show him how much I loved him, and how much I really care.

I couldn't think straight, much less act straight when Paul came into the room. I wasn't sure where he had come from, but his glassy eyes told me he was as pissed as I.

"Hey, John," I heard him call out, and he came over to me, taking a seat next to me. "Hey. You look-" "I am," Paul interrupted, already knowing what I was about to say.

We'd been so close for so long, it was almost as if he could read my mind.

The alcohol was telling me to do all sorts of unpleasant sins for the hell of it. It was telling me to grab Paul by the hand and show him a good time. It was telling me to confess everything, and Lord, did I make the terrible, naughty, wicked decision of letting it decide my next line of action for me.

"Can I take you back to the bunks?" I asked without any sort of hesitation. My gut was telling me I was making a mistake.

Paul gave me a strange look; it was definitely one I had never seen on him before- and in that case, it was probably a negative look.

"I think you need to go wank or something, John. Or sleep off the whiskey."

I felt my heart tear into two. I should've known it would turn out that way. But, of course, I didn't listen to my brain, and was thinking with my dick and my heart more than I should have.

I got up from my seat and went to the other side of the club, back to the storage room where my faggot ass belonged.

Paul was straight, goddamn it. I could never get that chance with him. Only in my dreams.

I slumped back in my bunk. As much as I wanted to cry, nothing came out. I was beyond furious with myself for saying something I knew I was going to regret.

I'm not sure if I felt comfortable talking to Paul again at this point, unless I drank enough to forget about it by the morning- but would Paul still remember it? Even drunk, he had more sense than I ever could.

I couldn't stand myself already, but I really hit a new low at this point. There's nothing in this world right now, with everything I've been through, that could make me feel lower. I've hit rock bottom.

The large, heavy doors creaked open, but I didn't bother to look over to see who it was.

"John?"