Help! //McLennon

thirteen

Sorry, it took so long, I hope I am able to redeem myself with this chapter.

Paul

John stays quiet for a long while, and this is a sort of quiet I'm not very fond of. I itched to face him fully and watch his emotions play on his face, but a better part of me knew that wasn't a good idea. I felt my heartbeat start to pump quicker and quicker as the tense silence draws on.

Eventually, John just reaches for the lamp and switches it off. "We should get some sleep." He says monotonously, completely ignoring my question. My heart sinks but I don't press him any further as I'd be a pain then.

We both slip under the covers, but my question still hangs in the air.

Why did you kiss me?

It was just hitting December now, so it was colder than ever, but I daren't huddle up to John for warmth. He fell asleep quickly, seeing as I'd woken him up at dreadful hours, but I lay awake for a long while more. John had fallen asleep with his back to me, but admits his slumber, he rolls over so I could see his face.

A frown was set upon his features at first but then it softened out like his dreams came to ease. His thin lips were slightly agape as he snored quietly and his usually waxed-up teddy boy hair was now soft and greaseless and framing his face. There was no doubt that John was handsome and lots of other pimply hyperboles, I just wondered if he ever maybe thought the same about me.

I know I'm queer. I always have known because I couldn't even possibly deny it, but never in the world would I tell anyone. Not a single soul knows although I don't make it very hard to figure out. John didn't seem queer at all, apart from that time he played with my hair while he thought I slept and obviously when he kissed me, but if he hadn't I would have thought he was as straight as an arrow.

I notice him shiver in his sleep, so I take the covers off of me and tuck them over him. It must have woken him though because as I go back to my pillow, his dark eyes stare at mine. I only silently stare back for a small while, before he pulls half the covers back off him and motions for me to come closer. Scooching up the mattress, he lays half of the covers over me.

"Roll over." He softly orders and I do as he says only for him to pull my body to his, his arms wrapping tightly around my stomach. "Are you warmer now?" He whispers.

"Very," I answer, my cheeks feeling warmer too.

***

John

Paul was gone by the time I woke up and my heart sank a little when I felt the bed beside me was empty but still slightly warm. I walked in the kitchen to find Mike flicking peas across the room with a spoon. He stopped as soon as he saw me and his big eyes waited for my scolding, but I was too deflated to worry enough to tell him off, instead just scruffing his hair. I turned to see a small note on the kitchen bench and held it right up to my nose so I could read it without my glasses.

Hi John,
Just went shopping. I'll be back soon.
Paul

But when he did come back, he looked pale and shook.

As I take the shopping bags from his hands he looked distant; biting his lip and barely looking my way. I watch in confusion as he walks straight past me and over to the sofa, sitting on the arm of the couch looking in great ponder.

"Paul, mate, yer right?" I ask, my brow furrowed as I waddle to stand in front of him. His hazel eyes finally glance up to meet mine, but they look watery and scared; unsure. The lad was about my height and size, but now he looked small and infantile almost.

"Well, I went to the market," he starts, nervously glancing at the front door and playing with his thumbs in his lap. "These boys came up to me and we got talking. But they turned out to be rotten. They were mean, alright. Big. Tough. They said they would follow me home." He explains anxiously and his and childish eyes were scared.

"They're just say-no-good brutes, love, they won't-" I try to comfort.

"They were gonna thump me, John. They really were." He interrupts, looking - again - over to the door with worry. Following his gaze, I sigh and sitting down beside him. I try to think up something that would comfort the frightened boy.

"Look," I huff. "Why don't you help me with the shopping then go play with Mike to clear your mind, hmm?" I propose, awkwardly patting him on the head and offering him a wry smile. He nods and silently stands to help me with the shopping in the kitchen.

After some encouragement, he finally went off to play with Mike in the spare room, but I was surprised to see how shaken he was just because of some big-town bullies. Part of me was left angry and defensive over Paul like I wanted a piece of those pig-headed bullies - something I wasn't used to feeling.

I would argue it was out of curiosity, but I knew it was definitely out of protectiveness that I went to stand by the front door. If the bullies did follow Paul home, I would be there to greet them. I would want to say that I was just after a bit of fist action, but I knew that I just have a soft spot for Paul. One he was starting to find out about after my rather obvious actions.

I jump suddenly as a sharp, menacing knock breaks my train of thought. My heart skips a beat, and not the good kind once I gaze through the peephole to see three stocky wog brutes. No wonder Paul had been terrified. They have half his stature, but they were twice as wide as he was. They looked like they could cripple him.

Taking a deep breath and squaring out my shoulders, I open the door.

"Can I help yer lads?" I question in my deepest, sternest voice.

"Yeah." The ringleader of the pack grunts, peering into my apartment looking for Paul. "Where's the limey fag that lives here, eh?" He growls through tight teeth, his eagle eyes looking me up and down.

"Who yer callin' a limey fag, mate. I'm the only motherfucker who lives here, lad. There's a filthy queer who lives downstairs though." I snarl and cock my head to the door before mine.

They exchange a glance and go marching off down the stairwell. Walking out and leaning against the railing, I watch as they knock on the door of my 6 foot 4 negro police officer of a neighbour, a scary bloke. Their faces drop and I chuckle as they scurry off with their tails tucked between their legs.

"Serves 'em right," I mutter and go back into my apartment clicking my tongue.