The Less I Know The Better [complete]

41 ;; wounds

The next day, John was wandering around his house by himself, utterly bored out of his mind and idly nibbling on some jam toast he'd made. That particular January afternoon was brisk and cool, the sky blanketed with ivory clouds free of rain and snow, only a light frost edging the window panes when he peered outside the window hanging over the kitchen sink; he popped the last bit of toast in his mouth before spinning around on his heel, humming a random tune to himself. When he'd gotten home from crashing at George's place just a few hours ago, he found that Mimi was absent, and the letter of suspension from the school that she'd obviously been sent laid open on the kitchen table, telling him that she'd read it. He luckily had not faced her yet since he'd found out he was suspended, but he found that he felt more guilty about it than glad. He was constantly getting into trouble and barely even made an effort with his schoolwork, constantly skipping classes and lying to her about how many days he actually even attended his lessons. He'd let her down - he felt as if he deserved her anger. But, it seemed he'd have to wait until she got home.

He found that being suspended was actually quite boring. He had considered going somewhere like the chip shop or the record shop - but he didn't really feel inclined to do it without his friends. It'd be drab to just sit there by himself, eating chips or looking through records with no one to talk to. He wondered whether or not he could ask George or Ringo to ditch with him - but it wasn't like he could talk to them at the moment. There wasn't any way to call them or anything, and he 'wasn't allowed on the premises' or whatever, so that wasn't possible. So, he decided to just dawdle around the house for the most part, maybe go and visit his friends when school hours were over; or just talk to Paul, a little voice supplied in his head. He let out a sigh, shaking his head at that and making his way to the lounge room before sitting on the couch. He couldn't do that yet. He had to find a better time..

He made his way up to the bathroom, checking himself in the mirror; he winced.
His left eye was swollen almost completely and painted a vivid purple. There was a slight ache in his side when he walked, though not as bad as it had been the day before - he just hoped the eye would go down soon and return to normal. He just wished he could get a glimpse of Kevin's face and see what he looked like.
The phone ringing brought him out of his thoughts; he glanced up, surprised, before hurrying down the stairs and making his way over to it, hoping that it would be for him - when he answered with a "hello?" and he was greeted with a familiar and very welcome voice, his heart leapt with excitement.

"Hey, John, 's Ringo!" His best friend called down the phone. There was a lot of noise in the background, and he heard a distant "hey, idiot!" that was unmistakably George - obviously, they were at a payphone somewhere outside.

"You dare interrupt my respite and relaxation time?" He joked. "This man needs his beauty sleep, y'know!"

"You're certainly a beauty," Ringo mocked, making John roll his eyes and mutter "bastard," though he was smiling. "Anyroad, come meet us at the chippy. I got a bunch of quid for shovelling snow out of driveways and gardens over the holidays and I want to waste it on shitty food."

"Oh, yes!" He agreed immediately. "Anything just to get out of this bloody house. I'm bored to tits here."

"Great. See you in twenty?"

"Yep. See ya." John then hung up. He grinned - he finally had something to do today.
After having a quick shower and changing into his favourite red plaid shirt and black trousers, he only half-heartedly styled his hair before slipping on his leather jacket and leaving the house. The frigid air nipped at his cheeks, though it wasn't too terrible that day; on the way to the chip shop via the bus, he garnered a few looks from his black eye, though he wasn't bothered - he only pulled silly faces in their direction, making them look at him as if he was mad before moving away. It made him laugh. When he reached the stop only a few metres away from the shop, he made his way off the bus, brightening when he spotted his two friends chatting to each other - wait, there were three of them. He froze mid-step on the footpath, eyebrows shooting up and his stomach swooping nervously when he realised who exactly it was; Paul. The younger boy had his arms crossed, absentmindedly nibbling his nails like he often did, though he was laughing along to whatever the other two were saying.
John swallowed thickly. He didn't know he was going to be there - he thought it was going to be just George and Ringo. He had a sudden, insane urge to just run away.