I Miss You - McLennon AU

30 a.

11th January, 1956

"John..."

"John..." A voice called, waking John up. He tried to ignore it, tried to go back to sleep.

But it was no use, the voice called again.

"John, please."

With a huff, he gave up, finally opening his eyes. He looked over to the door, his vision blurry from sleep.

"No, Mimi." John replied, pulling the covers further over his body and turning over with another huff.

"John you have to wake up, you have to be at school in less than an hour." Mimi called from behind the door, her tone gentle.

John tried to forget what she had just said, letting his eyes focus on the white wall next to him. He didn't respond.

"Can I come in?" She asked, a few short seconds later.

John took his time in responding, but when he finally did posses an answer, he spoke it against his will.

"Okay." He responded, quietly.

But Mimi had heard it, gently pushing the door handle down and entering John's room.

It was pitch black, his curtain having been pulled all the way down to the windowsill, and all the lights being off in the room. It was depressing, and ugly.

The room was a mess, dirty washing all over the floor. His records were scattered all over his shelf, and his wardrobe was open.

John himself was a mess. He was rarely happy anymore. He showered whenever he wanted too, which was hardly ever, and washed his hair once around every two weeks. He barely ate, barely spoke to anyone, just slept the time away or cried it away.

Sure it was childish, to be lovesick over a boy you'd only known for two weeks. But Paul had meant so much to him. He had seen him every day for those two weeks, and had gotten to know everything about him. He had fallen completely in love with him, which was something he never thought would be possible with a boy.

But it was possible, and it had felt even more special.

Perhaps it's speciality was yet another reason as to why John felt so lost without Paul. It was Paul who had made John realise who he was, and John could never thank him enough. That was what hurt, he really could never thank him enough for it.

The thought that he would never get to even see Paul again is what would cause a cloud to appear over John's mind. The idea that he would never get to hear or even touch him again, they depressed him more than he could've imagined.

John was depressed, and nobody could know the true extent as to why. Nobody would understand what he was feeling, nobody but Paul, wherever in the hell he was.

Mimi took a seat at the door of John's bed, placing a hand gently on his calf.

"John, I know how hard this is for you." She spoke, softly. "I've seen you grow more and more sadder as the months go on. But please, John, you have to understand that things will get better. This sadness ensures that. You can't be happy without being down first."

"I'm not down, Mimi." John replied, a little too harshly. He tried to relax his tone as he continued. "I-It's worse than that..."

"How is it, John?" She asked her nephew, wanting more than anything to know. "I just wish to understand... I want to help you."

"I can't explain it... Paul was- well he meant a lot to me, Mimi." John managed, eventually.

Mimi looked down, closing her eyes. She squeezed John's leg in comfort.

"I know what he meant to you, John..." She whispered, truthfully.

John wasn't surprised. Mimi was wise, ever since Paul had left John figured she knew what she had. Though she never explicitly mentioned it, Mimi had known, and had accepted them.

"You can't..." John still denied her, not believing that anybody else would be able to understand the pain he felt every day.

"The pain you're feeling John, this angst, I- It's what I felt when we lost your uncle..." Wt that, John slowly turned around. He lay on his back, sitting up slowly and looking down at Mimi. "I know what it's like to wake up and feel nothing but sadness at the thought that you will never see, well, the one you love again." John felt his eyes water up as she spoke. "But John, it does get better. Not for a long while, my boy, but it does... For me it took years, but eventually, it will be okay."

For a few seconds, John sat in silence, staring at her through watery eyes. She was blurry in his vision, more blurry than usual when he wasn't wearing glasses.

He gave her a small, sad smile, and she smiled back in return. He looked away, showing that he was done with the conversation, it was getting to be too much. Mimi understood, squeezing his leg once more and raising to her feet.

"You have a few minutes to get ready, John." She headed over to him, kneeling down and kissing his head softly. "Take your time..."

John nodded, slowly. "Thank you, Mimi." He responded, hoarsely.

Without another word, the woman rose to her feet again, making her way out of her nephew's room. The door closed with a click, and John was left alone in the dark room once more.

He shrunk back into bed, thinking about what Mimi had told him.

Mimi felt close to the way he felt when she lost his uncle George. John didn't know why he had never thought about that, of course if anybody on this planet understood atleast a part of the way John felt, it would be Mimi.

She and Uncle George were in love, complete love. And George died so suddenly, of course she hadn't had time to process it either.

It had taken Mimi years to overcome the sadness she felt. John didn't know how he felt about that. Years feeling this pain? Years of barely being able to climb out of bed? Years of constant crying?

How on earth would John be able to cope?

Mimi was strong, always had been. She managed to overcome the sadness. But what if John never could? What if he was stuck in this void of darkness forever?

No, John couldn't feel this awful pain forever.

He wanted Paul back, the only way he would be able to feel happiness again was to have Paul back. He didn't know how the fuck he would get Paul back, he didn't even know for sure where his lover was. But he needed him.

George was dead, Paul... Well Paul was not. He was lost, but not deceased.

There had to be a way to find him.

At the thought of seeing him again, John felt butterflies appear in his stomach. Almost instantly, he rose from his bed, rushing over to his wardrobe and pulling out the first pair of school trousers he found and grabbed the nearest white shirt. He changed into them, and shoved his blazer, which had been disregarded on the floor, over his shoulders.

Rushing over to the blinds, he pulled them up, the sunlight spurring on this rush of adrenaline. He stared out of the window for a few seconds, determination racking his brain.

He was going to find Paul, and as soon as he found him, he was going to kiss his face off.