St. Peter's Church

24

Paul's POV

I must've dozed off at some point, because I was awoken by the bed shaking slightly. I was laying on my side, and felt eyes burning into the back of my head.

"Paul."

I didn't want to talk to him. I just needed some time to myself.

He forced me to turn over, groping around for my shoulder and flipping me in his direction. "Paul," he repeated, this time more firm, "Please talk to me." There was almost a whine in his voice, pleading for me to talk to him.

"What do you want?" I said. I'm sure I came off more aloof than I had intended. It was pitch black other than a very thin strip of lighting coming from beneath the doors, but I still couldn't see.

"I want you to be honest with me," John said, "Are you queer or not?" I really, really didn't want to talk about that right now. "Please, John... We'll talk about it in the morning. I need to sleep."

"Can I join you?" he asked. "Join me in what? In bed?" I asked. "Yeah," John answered faintly. "If the bunk can hold both of us, sure, but it's your fault if one of us falls off and cracks our skull open," I said, my tone tinged with sarcasm.

John chuckled. "We'll be fine. I doubt I'll sleep much anyways. I'll just take extra uppers in the morning." I scooted over just enough to give him some room on the small mattress, and he crawled up to join me.

There was a window in the room that showed through into another room, and the light to that room came on, giving us more vision.

John's eyes twinkled in the light, exposing the beautiful honey color of his irises.

Oh, fucking Christ, this can't be happening. I think I'm falling for him. I'm falling for my best friend. I'm falling for John fucking Lennon.

He was such a pleasant sight, and I was blind to the stupid shit he's made me do over the years. I let it slide because of my deep, brotherly affection for him- but this affection has grown into something stronger than a platonic love.

"Oh, John," I whined. His brows came together as he looked directly into my eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked me softly. Shit, I was starting to love his gravelly voice.

"Nothing's wrong, I-" It's like my voice lost the words, and I couldn't form them. Instead, I let the massive amounts of adrenaline inside of me take the lead.

"I wish you'd kiss me right now," I admitted freely.

John raised his eyebrows a moment, in a considerable amount of shock; but I was so focused on how I felt in that moment to notice.

"Is that so?" he said, "Do you think it would be better now than it was last night?"

"Fuckin' hell, just come here," I hissed, not having the chance to pull John close before he smashed his lips onto my own.

It got heated very quickly, hardly any time between our lips alone before John licked at my lips for entrance, which I granted way too easily. It was a very sloppy, messy french kiss, fueled by nothing but love- and maybe a little bit of the problem I could feel in John's pants against my bare thigh.

Saliva connected our tongues when John pulled off of me, once again locking eyes with me. His lips were red from what just happened as well, making the sight even more questionable to anybody.

"Yer such a fuckin' queer," I teased. "Shut your gob, you're the one who said you wished I would kiss you," said John, to which I replied, "If you didn't make me fancy you, we wouldn't have to worry about it."

John's playful giggling stopped at once, and his smile faded right along with it. "You fancy me back?" he asked. I simply nodded, and his grin came right back, his arms wrapping as tight around me as they could.

"You have no idea how you just made my year, Paulie."