The Less I Know The Better [complete]

38 ;; christmas

"John, love, hey! Sorry, won't be able to call for long - got some relatives comin' over to help set up for tonight.. what's up?"

John swallowed thickly, feeling as if his throat was made of sandpaper; his heart beat fast in anxiety, somehow picking up the pace even more when Paul's smooth voice sounded in his ear (he noticed suddenly that it had dropped a bit - deeper than usual) from the phone he clutched a tad too tightly in his grasp. Shit, hearing his voice laced with excitement and the warmth in which he addressed him, it nearly made him lose all his resolve in the blink of an eye. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Mimi hard at work in the kitchen, obviously beginning to prepare the roast dinner for tonight - he still hadn't told her he was going to Paul's house for Christmas Eve; well, originally was going to Paul's house - looking quite eager herself. It was only ten in the morning, but he knew that Mimi would go all the way and cook it thoroughly for the entire day. He felt a sudden burst of melancholy grip his chest at the sight of his aunt fiddling away, but he forced it down quickly and trained his gaze back on the floor from where he leant against the wall.
He felt like utter shit for what he was about to do. He knew Paul would be upset about it, would try not to let it show much, and eventually would get over it. But.. he couldn't go to Paul's family Christmas party. He just couldn't. Not with what was going on inside him at the moment - the tumultion of emotions were too much to handle, and he felt if he caught one look at Paul's face, he would explode.

"Hi, Paul." He spoke eventually, clearing his throat when he found that he sounded quite hoarse.

"You alright? You sound a bit sick." Paul commented, sounding concerned. John could almost imagine him gazing worriedly into his face; he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't deal with those thoughts right now.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I just.. Don't be mad, alright? But- I can't come to the party." When Paul didn't immediately reply, he added hastily. "I want to, trust me- but.. I've come down with a cold, I know I'll be worse by the end of the day.. I don't think I should go. Don't wanna spread it." He half-assed a chuckle, which felt strange in his mouth and made him cough a little.

"Oh shit." Paul replied eventually. He paused for a moment, then sounded suspicious when he next said: "You don't sound very sick, though."

"Yeah, I guess I don't. It isn't very bad right now, but I know it'll be bad soon." He felt more and more guilty with the seconds that passed, and he couldn't stand the disgusted squirming in his stomach that seemed to be screaming this wasn't right and he shouldn't be lying to Paul. He'd never really lied to him before. In fact, he didn't really lie much to anyone. Well, he lied to Mimi about where he went sometimes, what he did if he came home late and she demanded answers to where he'd been, lied to his teachers that he knew things about their subjects when he was actually copying off of his friends half the time - but lying to Paul felt like a whole other story. Lying to get out of the party and so he could subsequently avoid him like he planned on doing felt abnormal to him, bizarre. Not to mention wrong.

"Damn." Paul sighed. "I was counting on you," he half-joked, though John could hear behind it that he actually was counting on him and was hurt that he couldn't come. The auburn-haired boy's heart ached. He hated this.
But it was for the better.

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you soon, yeah?" He shoved his free hand in his trouser pocket.

"I can come over now, maybe for an hour or two before da' gets pissed and I'll have to go and help?" Paul asked, a note of hope and mischievousness in his words. John's heart thudded with anxiety at that. Even if, underneath it all, he wanted him to do just that - better yet, actually go to the Christmas party with him - he knew it wasn't a good idea.