Help! | McLennon

Permission

Paul stared at the ceiling, praying for at least an hour of sleep. He still hadn't cooled off after John's unexpected visit, the unexpected kissing and the unexpected argument. The anger towards John still burned in every inch of his worn out body. His
only hope to get over it was the meeting with his dealer, which was scheduled for the next day. He did feel disgusted with himself for having to rely on heroin to solve his problems, but at least there was an available solution. He kept telling himself that to justify the horribly strong cravings that were disturbing his focus. What had happened with John was a sign, a sign that he was destined to fail.

If Paul could aquire any superpower in that very moment, he would choose the ability to read minds. He he needed to know what the hell was going on inside John's head. The lad was the most complex person Paul had ever met and no matter how much he tried to understand his behaviour, he couldn't. It wasn't all caused by drugs, because the fact that he had tried them in the first place shows that something had been bothering him very much.

Paul played with his beard as he lied there, remembering how John had given him a compliment for the first time in months. Then his mind skipped to the part when his and John's lips connected with a rough, but full of honesty and tenderness passion.

When he got sick of being in his bedroom all alone he moved to the living room, where Martha was sleeping peacefully on the couch. He plopped himself down and snuggled right up to her, running his hair down her soft fur. A muffled cry left his mouth when the memories of him an John cuddling in that very place flooded his mind.

On the next day he was awoken by a loud knock on the front door. He nearly jumped off the couch, not caring if he scared his dog or not. Hoping to see the familiar face of his dealer there, he was more than dissapointed when it was not who he saw. Even if he hadn't been waiting for somebody, he would be upset.

"Yoko," he said with a grind of his jaw. "What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here on this beautiful morning?"

Yoko, not showing any reaction to Paul's mockingly warm greeting, stared at him. "Can I come in?" she asked and threw Paul a hard look.

Paul hesitated, because talking to Yoko wasn't exactly on the top of his list of favourite to-do things. On the other hand, he was already feeling on edge and he was kind of curious what she wanted to say to him.

"Make yourself at home," he said and took a step back, allowing the woman to get inside. She thanked him and headed to the living room, where she sat on the couch and waited for Paul to join her. The lad sat down as far away from her as possible, but close enough not to miss anything she had to say. As soon as he rested, Martha sat by his side and started to lick his palm with her warm tongue, making him chuckle. When he pushed her away slightly, she placed her head and Paul's tigh and stayed in that position.

"I know all about you and John. Last night and all before it," Yoko annouced, shooting Paul a glare. Somehow the tone of her voice was still calm, which was really starting to get on Paul's nerves.

"So what?" He reached for the pack of cigarettes and matches that laid on the coffee table and lit one for himself. This time he was the one to send Yoko a full of hatred stare.

"Nobody has ever hurt him the way you have."

Paul responded to that with a slow nod, putting his blunt expression on once more. What was going on behind that mask was definetely not being careless. He took a drag from his cigarette, giving Yoko a look that suggested her to continue whatever she had to say.

"Anytime he sees you, he gets so sad and angry. He never said anything positive about being around you. I worry about him, I don't appreciate seeing him in this state."