Thrills in the Night: A Y/N x Paul Stanley Story

You Better Explain

There was a knock at my door and I sat up in confusion, squinting at the door. The knocking repeated and I stumbled to the door, peering through the peephole and feeling my heart sink. Paul was standing there, looking frantic, raising his fist and knocking again.

"I don't want to see him," I grumbled to myself, before opening the door a crack.

"Go away." 

"Y/N! Please, please can we talk?! It's not what you think it is!" he said. "Please just talk to me, I promise I can explain, I promise it's not what you think it is!" 

"How could it be anything else?! I heard her moaning your name!" I snapped. 

"Eric's real name is Paul! You overheard him, not me!" Paul cried, trying to prevent me from closing the door, struggling to hold it open just a crack so we could still talk. 

"Don't lie to me! Don't you dare lie to me! I heard you too!"

"Y/N it wasn't me!" he protested. "I swear on my life it wasn't me!" 

"I know damn well what it sounds like when you're moaning because usually I'm the one who makes you moan! And now you're lying to me?! You've dug your own grave, Paul Stanley! We're done!" I screamed, slamming the door shut in his face. 

He immediately let out a sharp cry of pain and I felt my heart drop, realizing my mistake and flinging open the door. Paul was cradling his hand, chest heaving. 

"Oh no Paul I didn't mean to do that, I'm so sorry, are you okay? Are you alright?" I asked, taking his hand gently. 

"It's...I think you might've broken my fingers," he whispered. "Oh that's...that's my whole job." 

My heart dropped, starting to panic in spite of how angry at him I was. "It's okay, I'm sure they're not broken, I'm sure it'll be okay!" 

"We've got a show tomorrow. Gene's going to kill me if I can't play. We don't have a replacement for me," he said numbly, voice shaking. 

"Is it bad? How badly does it hurt?" I asked. 

He tried to flex his fingers but gave up, shaking his head with a wince as tears welled up in his eyes. 

"Hurts. Damn," he mumbled. 

"M-maybe they're just bruised! Here, just come inside, I'll run to the ice machine down the hall and get you some ice," I said, grabbing his other hand and leading him to my bed. 

He sat on the edge of the mattress, looking like he was doing his very best to fight back tears, and I felt awful in spite of what he had done. I turned and ran down the row of rooms, reaching the ice machine and quickly shoveling scoops of ice into a bag. I rushed back to his side, placing the bag on his hands, feeling my heart sink as I saw they were already swollen and blueish purple. 

"I think I'm just gonna call a cab and go to the hospital, to make sure they're not broken," he said weakly. 

"A cab?" I asked, and he nodded.

"That's how I got here after all. Since you stole my car," he said casually. 

I flinched. "Oh. Um...right. But no, I'll just take you! I-I'll drive," I said, pulling him to his feet and moving to the door.

He grabbed my wrist, dragging me to a halt. "Y/N, listen. I'm not lying to you. I swear on my life you overheard Eric. His real name is Paul, Paul Caravello." 

"Well why was he in our room?!" I snapped, getting angry all over again.

"Because he lost his room key and he was desperate and you were out so I let him borrow our room!" he cried. "And I was leaving anyway because I wanted to--" 

He faltered and I raised an eyebrow. "Because you wanted to what, Paul?" 

He let out a soft sigh. "Well, I wanted to get you a gift since it's our one year anniversary next week. I wanted it to be a total surprise but I guess as long as you don't know what it is it's still a surprise," he said. 

I felt my heart sink, feeling horribly guilty. 

"Oh. Well I'm going to be verifying your story with Eric," I snapped.

"You can! I can even try and track down the groupie he slept with if you want! But Y/N I promise you it was Eric and not me." 

I took his good hand, giving it a squeeze. "If you're lying I'm going to murder you," I murmured, kissing him gently. 

He chuckled, kissing me back. "Fair. But I'm not. And...and I'm glad you're okay. I was worried sick when you didn't return and then when you wouldn't respond to any of my calls. I'm so, so glad you're okay," he murmured, gently brushing my hair out of my eyes.

I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his chest. "I'm so glad it wasn't you. I love you, I don't want to lose you." 

"I love you too. I'll never leave," he whispered. "Now could you maybe take me to the hospital so I can get an x-ray? Because if my fingers are broken I'm gonna have to figure out a solution quick," he said. 

I picked up his good hand again, giving it a tight squeeze. "I'm really sorry," I mumbled, tears welling up in my eyes. 

He kissed me gently on the cheek. "Hey, it's okay! It was an accident, don't beat yourself up over it." 

I nodded, grabbing his keys and leading him to his car, thrilled he wasn't cheating on me, terrified he was lying to me, and hoping desperately his hand would be alright.