Tell Me Why || McLennon

Chapter Twenty-Nine

       "Stuart...Stuart's dead." Paul finally said, waiting to see John's reaction.

       John's head felt fuzzy as his eyes dropped down, the happiness disappearing. Dead? But how? He had just seen Stu a couple of months ago and he looked fine. He couldn't be dead. There was no way.

      "How?" John whispered just loud enough for Paul to hear. His still wasn't believing the news.

      "His heart stopped a couple of days ago. Astrid called the paramedics but..."
Paul stopped speaking. He knew John would get what he was saying.

      "Oh." John's head began to pound. Almost like it was the morning after he had gotten drunk. But this time, there was too much pain to bear. And it didn't come from drinking too much, it came from heartache and heartbreak.

       "Yeah." Paul whispered. He didn't know what to do.

       "I'm just gonna go be alone for a second." John said, knowing he'd go to Paul's old room. No one was there anymore.

       Paul nodded his head up and down. He knew John needed to be alone. After all, him and Stu were close and they left off on a bad note. He sighed as he realized it was going to take a long time for John to heal.

       John quickly pushed passed Paul almost knocking him over. However, he didn't care. He had to get out of here.

      He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Almost unable to breath. His mind was frozen, unable to process what was happening. All he knew was he needed to get to Paul's old room. Which way was it again? What room number was it? He couldn't even remember what it looked like. All he remembered was that he kissed Paul for the first time in that room. Such a happy feeling.

      Maybe that's what he needed. He needed to sense that feeling of a happy moment. So he could forget about this awful, sorrowful feeling.

      And the only way to experience that happy feeling was to get to Paul's room. But where the hell was it? Why couldn't he remember where it was?

     Aw it's no damn use, he thought. Besides, no happy memory could get his mind off of the unbearable pain John felt right now. It was like a million pieces of shattered glass ripping his heart apart. And John didn't even know if he could place his shattered heart back together again.

       John groaned and slumped his back against the wall, now giving up on ever finding Paul's room. He slid down the wall, spreading his legs out across the floor. He couldn't believe he was actually gone.

       And the worst part was that Stuart had died in the middle of hating John, if that made any sense. Stuart's last memory of John would be them fighting over a secret relationship that John hadn't told him about. That would also be one of John's biggest regrets. Not telling Stu. Maybe that would've saved him.

      No. John immediately banished the thought from his mind. Nothing could save Stu. He would've have died. But if John hadn't lied to him, they could've ended on a better note. John would've been happy.

      John clutched his stomach as it began to ache intensely, along with his head. He moaned. "God dammit." He mumbled.

      Why? He thought. This was all too much. His life had been nothing but despair. First his father had abandoned his mother and him, then his mother left him with his aunt to start a new life with another family. Then, he fell in love with his best mate who would never love him back. But he did create a new bond with his mother, reunited with her. She got hit by a car. Later, John did get the guy, but his other best mate left him. And eventually, he died too. Why did it all happen to him? Why him? Why John? Why not someone else? John had been through too much. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of it. He wasn't sure if anyone could ever save him from the pain he felt.

      "Why?!" John cried out in sorrow, now sobbing. "Why me?! Why can't you just take me?! Take me out of this world!" He looked up at the ceiling, completely oblivious to anything else around him.

       Suddenly, John leaned over to his side and vomited. All over the carpet. He was still sobbing, but leaned his head back against the wall, the taste of throw up still in his mouth, hoping someone, anyone would come save him.

      And this time, his wish was granted when Paul stepped out of the doorway, looking at John. He ran over and stroked his hair, noticing the vomit.

     He kissed his cheek, and continued to stroke his hair. "Let's get you inside." He whispered.

     He grabbed his hand and carefully pulled him into their room. But he didn't know that John couldn't be saved.

Thanks for reading. -Liz :)