Pretty Boy [j.l + p.m]

v

"So I'm supposed to just believe you over Mick Jagger?" David arched an eyebrow in John's direction as he clasped his hands under his chin.

John gritted his teeth. Of course Mick had went and tattled on him to David. That sly son of a bitch knows that David has a soft spot for him.

"Well I didn't see a bruise on his jaw. He looks pretty scratch free to me." John spat.

"Then why did he punch you? He told me that you were- "

"I don't care what he told you. I'm going to tell you the truth. That bloody bastard kept arguing with me, then out of the fuckin' blue he punches me in the damn jaw." John pointed to the blue and purple blotch resting on the right side of his jaw line. John needed Bowie to see that he was the victim. This would be his second strike- the first one he had gained by losing his temper at a faculty meeting- and God knows how quickly he'll accumulate a third.

So no, he wasn't going to let something as petty as a fight count towards one of his two remaining strikes. "David, I just want to let you know that even though you may not like me, I like you. And I don't know how I could go on with a normal life if I had a second strike, I mean-"

"Firstly, you're not going to get a strike. But I decided that, instead, you're going to have to watch the kids in detention for the month." David listed looking from his desk up to John.

"Nevermind I'd rather have a str-"

"No. Its final. I have no one volunteering to do it so you're the final resort."

John sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples. "Those kids are animals." He groaned. He could already see himself yelling and cursing at them all, and ending up in the same chair he was sitting in now, with David shaking his head in disapproval and lecturing him about how teachers are supposed to be kind and caring.

To hell with caring.

"Can we make a deal?" John asked. He was willing to do anything else but watch those demons.

"Lemme think about that... No."

John clenched his jaw and abruptly stood up. "Funny how you give me punishments when you're the one who does coke during work." John mumbled- doubtful if the rumors he heard in the teachers lounge were true- not caring if David heard as he stood up from the chair. He swiftly grabbed his jacket that he had taken off earlier and shot David one last glare before leaving.

When he exited the office and into the empty hall he felt his eyes sting with unshead tears. Oh how badly he wanted to yell and curse out Paul for putting him in this situation. Even though Paul didn't do anything- intentionally- it still made John's heart wrench.

Why was Paul so willing to go behind his back?

     Paul regretted the stupid argument he had with George earlier today. He didn't even remember what had started it, but he did remember the words 'slut' and 'whore' were thrown his way a few times. And he remembered that one harsh line that George had spat out during the middle of their argument: "I bet that you only let lads feel you up and fuck your guts out is because you have no one who loves you, and frankly, I'm not surprised that no one does."

Hearing his own best friend say that was like a punch to the gut. So of course Paul quickly scurried to the person who has given him the most attention recently.

But as he stood in front of John in the classroom where it was only the two of them he realised that it was a mistake. Paul wasn't the only one who was off kilter today. He realised that shouldn't have came here. "J-John.. Are you okay?"

When he didn't answer Paul cleared his throat and tried again. "What's wrong?"

Paul whimpered as John pressed him onto the wall that was behind them. John wasn't answering Paul's questions. He wasn't even saying how angry he was or anything. John was just staring at the one faded hickey that was on Paul's Adam's apple.

"John," Paul breathed out, "I know you're mad at me. But it's hard for me to breathe with-"

"Who gave you that?" John asked as he brought a hand and grazed his Adam's apple with his thumb, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as Paul sharply gasped.

"Um.. I-I don't think that your question is appropriate."

"Oh you are one to talk about what's appropriate and what's not. So tell me love, who?"

"I don't know. Honesty. Could be anyone in the whole school for all I know." Paul answered. He wanted John to look up at him instead of his stupid hickey. "So you're telling me that you've been with the whole school?"

"No. I'm just saying that it could be anyone. Please stop looking at my hickey."

John shrugged as he lightly traced it. "Y'know I got clocked in the jaw defending you. And now I have to watch the kids in detention for a month because Mick told that wanker of an assistant principal that he felt I was a threat."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-" Paul stopped talking as he caught a glimpse of the bruise that John was nursing on his jaw. "Oh God John," he said as he freed one of his hands from the teacher and lightly touched it, "that looks worst than it should."

John took his hand off of Paul's neck and grabbed his wrist. "If it looks bad then why did ye have to touch it?" He hissed.

Paul shrunk under the intense glare that John gave him. He wouldn't have come here if he knew that John was acting this way, whatever the hell you would describe it as. "John.. I think I should-"

"How many beers would it take for you to sleep with me?" John asked suddenly, as if he knew that Paul was going to suggest leaving.

Paul snatched his wrist from John's grip. "No-- please don't do this to me."

"I haven't done anything to you. I'm begging you Paul.. I'll rent us a hotel- whichever one you want.. And if you want me to drop you off I'll drop you off. It doesn't have to be sexual at all."

"Why?" Paul asked. If George were to magically find out about this... No. George couldn't.

John bit his bottom lip. "Because.." John pulled away from Paul, "because.. I need- want to have someone- someone to talk to."

Paul scoffed. "Oh really? And what do you suppose we talk about? Your real intentions regarding what you want me for perhaps?"

"Um.." John cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. "I want you to know that you aren't the only one who has a fucked up family... And frankly you're the only person who can relate to me." His hand snaked up and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly before looking back up at Paul.

"What about that woman who lives with you?" Paul asked, ignoring the very small feeling of empathy in his chest.

"Cynthia? I doubt she'll even notice I'm gone. Mondays are her 'completely ignore John day' as she likes to call 'em."

"Wow you've got an answer for everything haven't you." Paul sighed. If he did go- the possibility was very small- he could call George and tell him that he was staying at a hotel, which wasn't a complete lie and lessened the guilt he would feel if he decided to go. Sort of.

"Yes. Well, except for what hotel you want."