St. Peter's Church

19

Paul's POV

I woke up feeling sick to my stomach, the nausea deep within me soom traveling up to my throat. I didn't have much time before the inevitable happened, puking in one of the big trash cans in the room.

What the hell happened last night? I remember a few things, but not much. My memory goes blank after confronting John about his feelings the night before.

My ass hurts like hell; I couldn't figure out why it was so sore, and it was bothering me.

Jesus Christ.

I remember everything now.

I felt myself grow sick again, but couldn't figure out if it was the hangover or my emotions. I had sex with John last night. I wanted to do everything I could to make him feel better. All the pieces are coming together now.

I couldn't be more upset with myself, knowing I gave way to him like that so freely. He must think I'm some sort of whore, letting him get to me so easily. Why did I let it happen?

I knew I was stronger than to cry. I could save my tears for better things to cry over. I had to be mature about this. I could just pretend I was too drunk to remember it.

No, that's fucked up.

I let out a loud sigh of frustration and a helpless moan, mad at myself for not making better decisions. I bet you anything he remembers everything that happened last night.

"Paul?" John whispered in his sleepy voice, which was slightly more rough than his already gravelly tone he had naturally. I whipped my head around so fast it made me dizzy. "How long have you been awake?" I asked.

"About two minutes," John replied, "You don't sound so good, love." "I'm fine, I just drank too much last night," I responded, wiping off my mouth. "Come over here, to me," John said. I walked a few steps towards him, looking down on him on his bottom bunk.

"Join me. Come on; get comfortable."

I hesitated, but joined him on the small, dirty, twin-sized mattress. "Is something bothering you?" John asked me. I couldn't hardly see him, but I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "No, I'm fine, I promise. I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't wake me, it's fine," John replied, "I woke up on my own. Me head's killing me, though." "Are you okay after last night?" I asked, "I worried a lot." "I'm okay, promise," John said firmly.

The doors squeaked and John jumped out of bed. I couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement, since it was Pete and Stu coming through, George following behind with what looked like some sort of breakfast pastry in his hand on a plate.

"You're up early, Lennon," Pete stated, "You usually sleep 'til damn near the afternoon." "Yeah, it surprised me too," it sounded like John said in response. I wasn't 100 percent sure, as they were all easily 50 feet from me.

"Hey, Paul, I'm goin' to get somethin' to eat, do you want anything?" John called my direction. "No, I'm alright. I'll stay here," I responded. John smiled at me before leaving the room, going with the other lads.