The Less I Know The Better [complete]

27 ;; homework

John continually rubbed at his cold, pinked nose as he lay on his side wrapped in a warm dark green jumper and thick socks with black trousers on top of Ringo's neat bed. His maths workbook was laid open in front of him, along with a textbook next to it - that belonged to George - which they were sharing. But despite being surrounded by homework, he wasn't actually doing very much of it all.
He instead tapped his pencil against the blank paper of his book, gaze focussed on a much more appealing view in his mind.
Paul.

The younger boy was sitting at Ringo's desk, steadily working away, completely invested in whatever they were supposed to be writing; his cheeks were flushed with the cold, too, and he was sitting cross-legged on the chair (John had teased him earlier about his strange way of sitting, though he knew he was being hypocritical when he often sat upside down on sofas) while he wrote. He would sometimes itch his nose with his middle finger like he always did, or let out a soft sigh as he adjusted his position, or mention something to Ringo who was sitting beside him, and John could not stop thinking about how that was just so insanely adorable of him, and how insanely adorable Paul was in general.
It was a week into November at that point, and it was beginning to get colder and colder as winter was growing ever near. Frost edged all the cars and tipped the blades of grass, and often there would be mist clouding the streets in the early morning; and, of course, rain. It always seemed to be raining those days. In fact, it was right at that moment as the four friends were studying in Ringo's bedroom, hammering against the windows and the tiled roof. John liked the noise - it was calming while he worked. Although he wasn't doing much of that. He just couldn't get himself to focus. Not when Paul was just sitting there looking extremely kissable and attractive. But he refrained, not wanting to embarrass Paul by being affectionate around their friends, and also not wanting to put up with Ringo and George's constant teasing. It already continued with them just knowing about their relationship, but if they were affectionate around them they would never hear the end of it, probably.

"You've been starin' at him for the past half hour, John."

He blinked, exiting McCartney Land and returning to reality as his gaze fixed on George. He felt his cheeks flame madly at being caught staring like a lovesick idiot.

"No I haven't." He mumbled quickly, hiding his face from him and pretending to focus on work, adjusting his glasses rested on his slightly crooked nose bridge.

"You haven't even started workin' out the problems we're supposed to be doin'." His friend pointed a bony finger to the paper, and John could almost see the triumphant grin plastered over his stupid thin face.

"Shut up." He had nothing better to say than that, just rolling his eyes instead of indulging in the younger boy's antics.

George chuckled, whacking him on the back - he seemed about to say something, but they were interrupted by Paul.

"What are you two whisperin' about there?"

Their heads shot up in unison to look at him, and he let out a bemused laugh, gazing at them curiously.
"Damn, don't look so guilty, eh?"

"Oh.. it was nothin'." George shrugged innocently, though they all could see the tiny grin that he was trying his best to suppress. He actually started to whistle as he turned back to his work, continuing working out the math problem that he was doing. John noticed Ringo watching the entire interaction with amusement but slight confusion but eventually turned back to his own books to keep working.

John sighed, letting his head fall onto his empty book after taking off his glasses, twirling them in his fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't feel there was any point in him still trying to study - he couldn't get himself to just work out the bloody maths problems. Why do they have to use their time outside of school to do more school work? Isn't the evenings and weekends supposed to be for things that weren't about school? He didn't understand the logic.
As he deliberated, something light hit him on the top of the head, pulling him from his thoughts and causing him to lift his head. His vision was blurry, of course, since he wasn't wearing his glasses and he put them back on, blinking as the world came back to focus.
He was met with the sight of Paul looking at him with a hint of a smile, tilting his head slightly as if to ask "what's up?"
He looked down to see it was a crumpled piece of paper that the raven-haired boy had thrown at him.