The Less I Know The Better [complete]

39 ;; arguments

"Hey, Johnny," Paul's smile widened a touch. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I-I guess." John stuttered, feeling his cheeks burn bright. Fucking hell, he was such a sucker for the boy in front of him. He'd never felt this strongly about someone before, and he certainly never expected in his entire life that it would be someone who he despised for weeks. That it would be Paul. How did they get to this point?

Paul tilted his head, studying him with a playful glint in his eyes. "You gonna let me in or stand in the doorway like a pillock?"

John clenched his teeth. Keep it together, he chanted to himself as he moved away and into the lounge room. "Whatever," he mumbled.
The younger boy trailed after him, shutting the door as he did so, making sure to dry off his snow-covered shoes on the mat; John stood behind the couch, hands clenched in his trouser pockets to keep them from fidgeting and catching the other's attention. What the hell was he going to do?! So much for his avoiding Paul plan. The bloody boy showed up at his house without warning! And he couldn't have just told him to get stuffed, could he? He loved Paul.. he didn't want to be an arsehole. But he was terrified at what could happen now that they were alone for the first time since John had realised the depth of his feelings. So many things could go horribly wrong. He couldn't stand being around him - he was so beautiful standing there, expressive eyes watching him all the while, just doing nothing but still making John's heart race.. he felt like if he spent another second in his presence, he would snap and confess his love. And that could never happen. He couldn't ever face the consequences. He had to keep it to himself.

He tensed when Paul placed a warm hand on his shoulder - he forced himself to turn around and meet his gaze.

"I missed you," The raven-haired boy's gaze softened a fraction and he pulled the unsuspecting John into a hug. He froze, breathing in the smell of snow and cigarettes and mint that was so familiar and insanely addictive; the feeling of Paul's body pressed against his filled up his mind like viscous liquid, and it took all his energy not to just burst into tears right then and there. Oh god, oh god, his mind screeched at him in utter panic.
"The Christmas party was boring without you." He was saying. He let go, all without John moving a muscle, though his hands lingered on his waist before they fell to his side and he began to pull off his gloves. "It sucks you couldn't come." He sighed, obviously disappointed about that fact.

"Yeah." John croaked. He shuffled away to sit on the couch, unable to look at his face any longer.

"But.." Paul began, voice laced with an obvious mischief and excitement; he leant against the back of the couch behind John, hands placed on either shoulder. "What about New Year's? I really don't want to spend it with my family, it'll be boring as hell. What if we do somethin' together?"

John sunk his teeth so harshly into his bottom lip he tasted blood. I can't, he thought desperately. I won't be able to stand being around him, knowing that there's barely any chance that he loves me back, that I love him and he doesn't love me..
He quickly shook away the thoughts, trying to come up with a way he could get out of it, trying his best to ignore the persistent squirming guilt in his chest all the while.

"Like what?" He began, training his gaze on his lap.

Paul rounded the couch and sat down across from him, lighting up a cigarette between his lips. He shrugged once he'd taken his first drag, bluish grey smoke expelling as he spoke. "I dunno. Anythin'."

John shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to say in response to that. Paul must have finally picked up on something being off with him, since his nonchalant expression immediately morphed into one of confusion and slight concern, brows furrowed as he leant forward to catch his eyes.
"What's wrong with you, John? Are you still sick?"