The Less I Know The Better [complete]

28 ;; aftermath

"Careful... it's bruising."

John let out a soft hiss of pain after he'd pressed the pad of his index finger onto the spot where Paul's knuckles had collided with his face. He couldn't help but grin crookedly at his friend standing behind him though as they stood at the bathroom mirror in his house, examining the damage done.
"Cruisin' for a bruisin', eh?"

Ringo rolled his eyes.
It was the still the same day of the whole ordeal with Kevin, but it had progressed to the evening, windy and brooding outside as the sun begun its usual journey of sinking into the depths, almost as if it was copying John. He had kept on his promise of going home after the events, and had barely even noticed the shocked stares of passersby. Seeing a teenage boy covered in his own blood with a crooked nose smoking a cigarette must have been a strange sight for regular commuters that Monday morning. Mimi hadn't been exactly tranquil when he came in through the front door and she spotted him, either - she hadn't even left for work yet and her nephew comes back after 20 minutes covered in blood and is completely apathetic to such events! She softened though, seeing how upset he was even if he was trying to hide it away, and she diligently took his bloodied jumper to wash it while he sat in the bathroom, cleaning all the blood off his hands and face and plugging up his nose to stop the bleeding. He'd put a frozen pack of peas on it to stop the swelling, too, but he knew it wouldn't stop it from bruising. He then spent most of the day in his room, strumming away idly on his guitar and playing his Elvis records on repeat while Mimi frequently checked in on him, asking if he wanted soup or a drink or a book to read until he said "just go to damn work, Mimi!" and she did just that, deciding to leave him alone. Not without a nice steaming cup of tea, though, which he greatly appreciated.
Eventually Mimi had come back from work, and then there was another knock on his door, surprisingly. His aunt had answered it and yelled up the stairs " Richard is here!" a minute later. He'd at first been a bit unwilling to see any of his friends at the moment after what had happened, but he decided to let him in anyway and Ringo appeared at his bedroom door ten seconds later, looking apprehensive but concerned.
They'd talked for a bit and now there they were in the bathroom, since Ringo had insisted on properly looking at it because "Me older cousin's a doctor. I know a bit, at least."

"You should talk to him." His azure-eyed friend suddenly spoke again.

John let out a sigh, knowing exactly what he was talking about. He was getting tired of it, frankly.
"We've talked about this already. I'm not gonna right now." He rested his hands on the edge of the sink, examining his nose once more before stepping away, not really in the mood to see it anymore.

"If it's about him punchin' you-"

"No, it's not about him punchin' me!" He cut him off with a frustrated clench of his jaw, but it was gone the moment it arose, leaving him just feeling deflated. "Even if it did hurt. Jesus, he can pack a punch if he wants to." He grimaced, remembering how hot and brutal the pain had felt throbbing across his face; John paused for a moment, noticing Ringo watching him seriously from the corner of his eye. He relented. "I just think we need to take a break. He didn't believe me when I tried ta tell him about Stu, and.. I have a feelin' he doesn't wanna be seen with me right now 'cause everyone probably believes what Kevin said."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "You don't know that." He knew it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but John just gently shrugged him off. He didn't need Ringo's pitying gaze at the moment.

"I actually do, Ringo." He laughed bitterly, letting himself fall onto the closed toilet lid, feeling like he didn't have the energy to keep himself standing anymore. "You saw 'im. He was absolutely terrified. Always has been, of people findin' out about us."