The Shadow

Chapter 3 (The Pain Inside)

"Mr McCartney, are you even listening to me?" no answer came. The teacher rolled his eyes. "Do me the honor to wake him up Harrison."

George smirked and smacked his friend on the ribs and as a result Paul jerked awake with a gasp.

"Fuck! What now?!" he glared at the idiot calling his 'friend' who motioned him to look up. He did so and jumped in fright as he realized he was still in the class and his teacher was staring at him with a dismissive look in his eyes. 

"Oh, it wasn't a nightmare then." he whispered, causing George to laugh in his fist, so he wouldn't be seen.

"Now, Mr McCartney, may I ask why you are sleeping during my lesson?" the teacher asked and tapped his food on the floor, clearly impatient for an answer at the moment.

"May I ask why you are teaching while I'm sleeping?" he murmured but loud enough to be audible to the teacher. 

"I heard that young man!" Paul flattered his eyelashes and the class roared in laughter before Mr Haggis slammed his hand on the desk.

"Get out of my class right now and wait outside until this hour finishes."

"Alright then." he sighed and got out of the classroom.

The last thing he needed now was getting expelled. But damn, he loved driving Mr Haggis mad. Although he knew he was in trouble, he couldn't help but laugh to himself as he sat on the black bench, outside his class. He was too tired and the lesson too boring to keep him awake.

The last nights had passed by with sneaking out with his new, dead friend. John was interesting, intriguing even. He had made a friend out of nowhere and he was glad, but something felt odd and he could not ignore the fact. Whenever he was asking of John's past, John always succeeded to change the subject. For some reason he was avoiding talking about it and Paul was determined to find this out. 

He hadn't realized the minutes passing by until he heard the heavy footsteps of his teacher.
"Come on McCartney, off to the headmaster we go."

***

He had returned home a little earlier than usual having earned a package of two days holiday. It was still early and decided to just sleep it over. At least these days would do some good to his tired being.

He woke up a few hours later, his headache long forgotten. He sat up but almost screamed at the sight of a smirking John sitting on his desk.

"Damn John! Is this the way you're going to appear from now on?" he half shouted not sure if the others were back home.

"Maybe?" he laughed, "You're cute when you sleep. Such a baby face."

"Hm? Thanks I guess." he rolled his eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"I had nothing better to do, so, here I am, ready to hang out with my friend."

"Ugh, John, I'd like to, but I'm too tired to walk down the streets at this hour."

"We can just stay here, if it's okay with you?"

"That's better." Paul nodded. John smiled and sat down at the edge of the bed.

"John?"

"What is it Paul?"

"How was your life back in the last century?"

"Ancient is one word to describe it."

"No, I mean, how was it? What did you do to enjoy yourself? How did your days use to pass by?"

"Curious Paul." he ran a hand through his auburn hair. "Not much different. Music, books and girls. Oh, such nice girls, but strict times. We had to be careful if you know what I mean."

"Moving on John." Paul groaned in annoyance making John laugh at his discomfort.

"When did you realize having this charisma of yours?" there it was. The change of topic.

"Since I was a little child. My mum passed it to me. She could see spirits as well. She helped me a lot, but then she passed away and it was a little hard after that."

"I see. When did she die?"

"Three years ago." he murmured.

"I'm sorry." John looked down, he himself remembering as it was yesterday his own mother's bloody accident.

"Don't say that. It's not your fault she died." he stated. He hated it when people used to say they were sorry for their loss. Paul found that just an act. Hypocrites. 

"I never cried over her, you know. I just could not grieve. I loved her so much, yet I never felt anything strong enough to make me break down. It's weird. I am weird."

"No. You just make a shield around you so you can feel protected from the world. Some people react that way. Trust me, I know what it feels like. It's a way to feel secured, from others."

"Still. It's not normal." Paul shook his head.

"Who said you got to be normal?" Paul opened his mouth to give an answer but he was cut off.

"After all, my friend, being normal is quite boring, don't you believe so?" John winked in return earning himself a relieved laugh from Paul.