I'm A Loser

You Won't See Me

John thought Paul was just being moody today so he ignored him. Meanwhile, Paul had his head lying on his knees on the bed. He was trying to figure out why John had called him a wimp and a cry baby. He found himself crying again and convinced himself that John was right-he was a cry baby. Paul hated that. He was just a few years shy of being 20 and he was crying? Paul looked frantically for a blade or something to cut himself with. He looked in the drawers, the closet, under the bed, anywhere he thought John might have put some. He finally went to the bathroom to find that John had left his razor out. He picked it up and looked at it closely. He brought it to his wrist and drew blood. He felt so relieved and watched the blood drip down his arm. A few drops fell into the sink but he didn't take any notice of them. He quickly got it to stop bleeding and returned downstairs.

"John, I'm sorry. I over-reacted." Paul apologized to John who was cleaning his dishes.

"It's fine, Love. I shouldn't have called you those things anyway, I guess I just got a bit carried away." John replied. "Are you alright now?"

Paul nodded but John suspected something had happened.

"Are you sure?" John asked again.

Paul nodded nervously.

"Don't lie, Macca." John whispered. "You promise you didn't do anything?"

Paul didn't answer.

John looked down at Paul's wrists and looked back up at Paul. Paul nodded knowing what John was thinking. John quickly wrapped his arms around Paul.

"Oh Paul, this is all my fault." John said sadly.

"No-John it's fine." Paul whispered.

"No no it's not. I made you feel bad and you did this; it's all my fault." John said again.

"John stop. I should have more control over myself, don't blame yourself."

John hugged Paul tightly, not wanting to let go. He gave him a kiss on the cheek and held onto him closely.

"Love you." John whispered.

"I love you more." Paul whispered back and gave him another kiss.

"Now let me see it." John said picking up Paul's wrists.

Paul shook his head, "upstairs." He whispered.

John nodded and followed Paul up.

"John, it barely even bled." Paul lied.

"I don't care, you still cut." John said.

"Really, it's fine there was hardly anything." Paul tried to reassure him.

"How did you even cut yourself? I thought I got rid of the blades." John asked.

"You...left your razor out." Paul muttered.

"Oh my God, it was my fault." John said in shock.

"John, stop!" Paul shouted. "Stop blaming yourself!"

John hurried into the bathroom to hide his razor. Paul followed quickly. John was about to pick it up when he looked into the sink.

"What's wrong, Jo-" Paul was about to ask when he found the answer.

The two stared at all the blood that had dripped into the sink.

"Oh my God Paul! You call that not a lot of blood?!" John shouted, scared of all of the blood.

"I..." Paul began to say.

"You what?" John shouted.

"I didn't want you to feel any worse." Paul mumbled.

"Dammit Paul!" John said frustrated.

Paul wrapped his arms around John. "I'm sorry, I just didn't want you to feel bad." He said trying to defend himself.

"Well lying isn't going to help!" John yelled.

"Yes, I know. Just don't get angry, please!" Paul begged as he put his hand on John's cheek.

John slapped his hand away and Paul winced. "Just stop it, Paul!" He shouted and left.

Paul heard the door slam behind John as he left the house. Paul hurried down to follow him when George assured him that John just needed to be alone. Paul nodded, unwillingly.

But hours passed and there was no sign of John.

"I think I'm going to go look for him." Paul said.

"No, it's freezing cold and it's raining. I'm sure John's fine." George said stopping Paul.

"But-" Paul began to say.

"No you just need to get a good night's sleep and you can look for him tomorrow morning." Liz said.

"Are you sure?" Paul asked worried.

The two nodded.

Paul went to bed but couldn't sleep without his mate. He tried to fall asleep but he felt so alone. He put his hand where John normally slept, hoping to touch John. But his hand just fell on the empty pillow. He took the pillow and pressed to his face. It smelled like him. Like cigarettes and cheap cologne. Paul smiled for a split second at the smell but quickly realized that John still wasn't there. Where was he? Paul asked himself constantly through the night.