The Less I Know The Better [complete]

3 ;; learning

John was pacing fervently. The well-worn wood of his bedroom floor groaned under his weight, seemingly crying out in irritation due to his anxious marching. He could almost hear Ringo's voice in his ear; "John, fer christ's sake, take one more step an' I'll knock ye out!"  (things he had said when John had annoyed him to the point of insanity with pacing - for example, when he had a date with a certain girl he had liked for weeks.)

But he couldn't find it in him to stop. It was a calming method, something for him to do when anticipating something. He hadn't been this anxious since he watched the ambulance carry Uncle George away. But he was anxious for a very different reason this time, not something so bad as that.

Paul McCartney.

After school had ended, John had lingered a bit to say goodbye to Ringo, his long-time friend forgiving him for their little dispute earlier on and inviting him to the chippy down the road. Unfortunately, he had to decline, since he had to meet Paul later to work on the song. His friend was understanding, albeit disappointed - John himself, however, felt terribly excited.

He would try to convince himself that he wasn't excited. Of course he wasn't excited! He was nervous as hell, yeah, due to Paul being a total tosser and not really wanting to put up with him, but nothing more than that! Maybe angry at himself for inviting the guy over, when he really shouldn't have if he sent him into an intense flurry of emotions such as this. But there wasn't any going back now. He had to face the consequences of his rash decision and just put up with the asshole for an hour or two and then he'd be on his merry fucking way and they wouldn't interact with each other until their next music lesson. Right?

"John! One of your.. ahem, friends is here!" Mimi voice floated up from the floor below him, and he froze in shock. He had been so caught up in his own conflicting feelings that he hadn't even heard the knock on the door, nor his aunt and the person conversing!

"Shitshitshitshit-" The curses bled from his lips before he could stop them, and he scrambled down the shabby carpet on the staircase; not before checking himself out in the mirror hung up on his wall, smoothing back stray locks of hair, but also trying to adjust it enough to make it look like he didn't work on his look too much. That would be embarrassing (he had cleaned his room earlier as well - not too much, but just enough so you could see the floor below). Holy fuck okay, John. Shut up. You can do this. Why the fuck are you so anxious? Who gives a toss???? Certainly not me. Not at all.

Several different inner voices screamed in his ears as he squeezed past his aunt in the narrow hallway, only to lock eyes with the person that had been contaminating his brain like some sort of gross (albeit pretty) virus. He didn't listen to a single one as he shot a smile at Mimi, trying to signal to her for her to fuck off so he wouldn't be reprimanded if him or Paul shot a mean word in the other's direction, which he was itching to do; just to piss the younger off.

"Hello, I'm Paul McCartney." The boy in question had turned the charm up to seemingly a million, holding out a hand and shaking Mimi's politely, his face the perfect picture of innocence. If only his aunt knew.

"Ah, hello. Come in," Mimi moved aside begrudgingly, not really reacting to Paul's attempts to worm his way into her good books. And John knew why.

The boy was wearing a faded, well-worn leather jacket that was studded with sunken-in creases, a blue plaid shirt underneath, black trousers along with it and a pair of scuffed white sneakers. His guitar case was strapped to his back, and he was carrying his frayed notebook and a pen. His hair was done up seemingly more than usual; instead of being generally just greased back, he had curled it into a full-blown teddy boy quiff! At seeing the haircut on him, John couldn't help but grin devilishly. Had the boy styled his hair specifically for this occasion? When he left school, his hair definitely wasn't in such a state, the older remembered. Jesus fucking christ, why am I so attracted to him? Oh god shut up John, not now..