Call Me Back Again

CHAPTER 18

Still quite a bit of angst in this one, and it won't be the easiest chapter to read, but I ecommend you all do read it, because I think you'll like some of the stuff I put in there.

This chapter is LONG...!!

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"Christ, Paul, I had no idea..."

The story had left John devastated. Silent tears ran down his face by the time Paul's monologue broke off into a single, strangled sob which left John's heart aching. He'd sensed something was the matter with Paul ever since they met up at Pride. There had been too many signals when they'd sat on that terrace, drinking milkshakes and chinwagging about Christ knows what. He'd caught those fleeting looks of panic when he dialled the flirting up too high, and noticed the reluctance to accept gifts or even let someone else pay for his food. There were other little things that made him wonder, as recent as when they fell into bed together. The way Paul had refused to be topped sprang to mind.

At first, John had filed many of the oddities into the 'he's just a people-pleaser' pile or the 'Paul is a dom' pile, or even the 'everyone's weird, so why can't he' pile. There had been other, less likely piles. One of them was the 'bad relationship' one. Initially, John had dismissed that option because: Paul. Had he ever known anyone who had a brighter outlook on life, a sunnier disposition, a stronger mind, a bigger heart, a...

Christ. That was it, wasn't it? A bigger heart than anyone John knew. But that was exactly what attracted those sick bastards who wanted to exploit someone. It was that kindness, that forgiving nature that made it easy to manipulate people like Paul into a situation that had no way out. Appeal to their nurturing tendencies, their need to make other people happy. Make them feel loved, make them feel needed, and they'd never give up trying to fix you, or make you happy. And then, once you had their full devotion, you could do anything. Make them believe they were worthless, that they deserved to be humiliated and beaten, that it was all their fault and that it'd get better as long as they stayed and tried even harder to please their partner.

John had seen it happening to friends, knew how stealthy and effective those abusers were. Paul never stood a chance. Not at sixteen when he was too young to even begin suspecting that some people were narcissistic sociopaths. John knew. He'd always known. Long ago, he'd been well on his way to becoming one before endless therapy sessions changed him into a better, happier person. He still had his moments. The pepper incident came to mind. His possessive, nasty streak had risen to the surface then. Seeing it backfiring like that had, thankfully, pushed those dark tendencies back into their cage.

Deep down, John had known it actually was a real possibility. He just hadn't wanted to think of Paul in that place, because he didn't deserve that kind of pain. Nobody did. To find out that this was exactly what happened and that he had seen the signs hurt. So. Fucking. Much. What kind of monster could ever do that to someone like Paul, especially after what he'd already gone through with his mum? Which twisted, evil mind could look at a damaged teenager and think: 'yeah, I'll turn that one into my bitch?' It wasn't right, but clearly, it was reality and what actually happened turned out to be even worse than John could have imagined. Who would try and strangle the life out of that gorgeous human being? How could anyone even bear to lay a finger on someone so full of charm and wit?

John momentarily released the hand he'd been holding throughout most of the conversation in favour of handing Paul his tea mug and a wad of tissues. They were on their second round of tea by now, and they were running low on hankies. Some liquid courage wouldn't have been amiss, but there didn't seem to be a single drop of booze in the house so it'd have to be just the tea and some of the sweets that were left over from the film marathon. Chocolate helped. It always helped. Even now, Paul looked a little bit more alive as he chewed on one of the leftover Maltesers.