Paul & John

[Chapter Nineteen - Hero In Leather Armor]

-- P A U L --

With a pounding headache and an overwhelming sense of dysphoria, Paul awoke in a distraught haze. He remembered the pain his father caused, he remembered the reasoning behind it, but he could not remember how he ended up on the floor. He slowly rose his head, and on the far right of him, resting in a leather jacket, lied John.

   Paul's heart began to race. He was excited yet anxious at the same time. What if his father came in the room again? What is John even doing here? He couldn't help but let his thoughts race. When the doe-eyed lad looked around his bedroom, he saw that the door was wide open.

  The young lad sat up and stretched his arm out towards John. He tapped the older boy lightly. "John?" He then began to shake him. "John, wake up."
John stirred in his sleep, but once his ears had detected the lilting, oh-so lovely, Liverpudlian accent, his chocolate-brown orbs opened. And there he was: face-to-face with the gorgeous Paul McCartney.

"Paul!" the older lad exclaimed. "Paul, you're awake!" He wrapped his leather-bound arms around the chubby lad; catching Paul by surprise at this sudden display of affection. However, he didn't pull away. He wanted to enjoy John's scent; which consisted of cigarettes and cheap cologne with a hint of booze wavered in between.

  Pulling away, John looked into Paul's hazel eyes. "Do you remember what 'appened?" Paul looked down, feeling a bit embarrassed at what had occurred hours ago.

"Told you my dad lost his shit." Paul replied. "He asked me if I liked boys, and because I said I liked you, he beat me to a bloody pulp." he then began to feel tears form as they brimmed at his eyes. "Oh, John!" he cried out, cowering his face into his hands. "Please don't judge me for it! I tried to suppress these feelings but I can't help it! You're just so beautiful and I. . ." he sniffled and wiped his nose. "I'm nothing."

John took a hold of Paul's face in his hand, turning the younger lad to face him. Hazel searched for brown, and in that fair moment of vulnerability, John pressed his lips on Paul's; letting the scent of honey and dry blood fill his nose. Paul allowed himself to let the kiss linger, loving the taste of John's lips. They tasted the same: cigarettes and mint.

John pulled back for a moment, stroking the side of his face. "I'm not going to judge ye for liking me, okay?" he pecked his companion's lips. "Stop saying yer nothing," he pressed his forehead on Paul's lovingly.

"Because to me, you are everything."

* * *

-- J O H N --

       "I am?" Paul asked, tears still falling on his face. His insecurities were getting the best of him, and Paul hated it. John nodded, taking the young lad into his arms; giving a peck to the tip of his nose.

"You are," John replied. "let's get out of 'ere, yeah?" he asked, giving Paul a grin. He didn't want the tubby lad to stay the night in his room. He wanted Paul to be safe.

"I don't think that'd be a good idea, John," Paul stated. "my dad will find out and ---"

"And who cares?" John replied, cutting him off. "He can go fuck 'imself if he wants. Come on, 'Macca! Aren't ye tired of being his bloody punching bag?"

Paul nodded while looking down at his clasped hands. He truly was tired of being sore, of having marks on his body. He was tired of it all. "Yeah," the doe-eyed lad finally replied. "I am."

John extended his hand towards Paul, offering him a helping hand. When Paul took hold of the older lad's larger palm, he rose and once he was on his feet, Paul was taken aback to feel John pull him close. He slowly places his arms around John's stern, manly frame and lets the scent of cigarettes and peppermint linger in the brink of his nostrils.

John felt his heart practically stomping its way out of his chest. He knew his admiration for Paul was just a protective barrier for him, but as he held onto Paul, letting his skinned scent waver, he couldn't help but feel something deeper. Shaking the thought out of his head, John pulled back a bit to look into Paul's gorgeous hazel eyes. He cups his companion's chubby cheeks with his hands and presses a firm kiss to his lips.

"Come on, 'Macca," John mumbles in a hushed tone. "Let's get the fuck out of here."