The Less I Know The Better [complete]

20 ;; visit

For the next few days after the.. incident, John was in a shitty mood.

It was often easy for him to be put in a bad mood - sometimes the smallest thing would set him off and he would snap at anyone that dared to look at him funny, sometimes it was just one night of bad sleep that would do it. He would often get over grudges rather quickly depending on what it was - it was extremely rare for him to apologise about anything, though, and most of it would be left unsaid - but occasionally he would let it stew within him, brewing in his stomach like some kind of bitter, resentful potion until it would explode and cause him to do something he would very much regret later. He had been doing the latter for those days; mulling over the situation, feeling angry over the fact that Paul had toyed with his feelings in such a way, and a sad, dismal emotion that the boy he'd been pining for had no memory of it at all.
He'd heard nothing from him the entire weekend, which caused his anxiety to run high, pondering during sleepless nights whether the younger boy had completely regretted and was disgusted by what he'd done and was going to avoid him, possibly undoing everything they'd done to get to the positive point in their relationship, going back to square one. But, as it turned out on Monday, Paul had come up to him in the morning with a happy-go-lucky expression on his face, and handed him his record he'd bought for him for his birthday with a cheerful grin. Words Of Love, of course. But John was able to tell, from that singular moment, the open and unknowing look in his eyes, acting as if nothing had changed - it meant he didn't remember the events of Friday night. That John was the only one who had memory of it. And he would be alone in his troubled, despairing thoughts, having to remember Paul's lips on his skin and hands on his body while the one who initiated it was blissfully unaware. He had even gone to a bar Sunday night and bedded some pretty bird that was there to try and forget about him for a while, but it had felt painfully mediocre compared to how he felt with Paul. Which could be considered pretty stupid, since all he'd done was kiss his neck at most, but.. he'd felt so alive in that moment. As if his brain had been turned to honey and every inch of his skin fizzling like it'd been set on fire, everything in the entire world melting away until it was just the two of them, floating in some enclosed world of blasting colours. He'd never felt something as intense as that when it came to partners. It was almost frightening, the intensity of his emotions.

He almost wished Mr. Martin had just allowed them to switch partners for that stupid song-writing assignment. Maybe John wouldn't have had the opportunity to fall for Paul in the first place and get himself in the irreversible, shitty mess he was stuck in.

But for now, John was sitting by himself behind the bleachers outside the main school building, secluded by the waterlogged wood, puffing away on a cigarette and feeling sorry for himself. The bleak, frosty wind tore at his nose and cheeks, and he tugged his school blazer tighter against his body in response. It was a bit stupid of him to be sitting out in the cold, especially when the ash-stained clouds swarming above promised a day of rain, but he was determined to avoid a certain person; and by extension, he was avoiding George and Ringo, too - he wasn't trying to, but he knew if he was to hang out with them, Paul would probably be there too, and he just couldn't put up with Paul's oblivious friendliness.

It seemed his plans on avoiding him did not sit well with fate, or whatever.

"John!"

His head turned to the familiar voice, but he let out an audible curse when he saw three distant figures making their way towards him; he knew exactly who they would be, even though they were too far away for his myopic eyes to make out their faces. Of course they'd end up finding him.

"What the hell are you doin' out here? 'S freezin'. We've been lookin' for ya everywhere." Ringo's concerned voice was much closer than before, and he squinted up at his three friends, standing above him. Paul knelt down, placing a hand on his shoulder with worried eyes, but John just indignantly shoved him away and got to his feet. He tried not to notice the hurt in his expression, but instead focussed on taking one last puff of his cig before tossing it to the ground, squishing it with his heel to put it out.