The Less I Know The Better [complete]

39 ;; arguments

The older boy shrugged helplessly.
Paul stood up and went to kneel down in front of him, placing one hand on his knee and looking into his face.

"You do look pale and tired," He commented, reaching up to feel his forehead, but John instinctively flinched away - he couldn't stand all this contact and closeness and seeing his face so close. His emotions were running wild and high and he felt like he was going to break down if he had to be around him any longer. He quickly got up, pushing past Paul and avoiding his crestfallen expression before hurrying into the kitchen, leaning over the sink when he felt like he was going to throw up.

"John? What's wrong?" Paul questioned, following him into the kitchen.

"Nothing," He ground out, staring into the plughole. He wished Paul would just leave; it would make it easier on both of them.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Paul instantly flared up, scoffing as he crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. "What is it?"

"Stop sticking your nose in other people's business, Paul." He spat, spinning around to glare at him. His head was screaming at him not to do this, but he felt like he had been backed into a corner and did the only thing he could think of to protect himself and his feelings, did what he was good at - lashed out with cruel words and insults. "Jesus, can't you just realise when you're not wanted and piss off?"

Paul's hazel-green eyes flashed with hurt but were instantly replaced with anger. John's heart leapt with fear and regret. "Oh, I'm sorry for caring about you!" He shot back, taking a step forward.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't."
Stop it, his thoughts begged, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"What the hell do you mean?" Paul's brows knotted in confusion, clearly upset. "You're my mate, of course I should care about you. More than that, by now.." He added more quietly.

John's heart thudded madly in his chest, threatening to burst out of his ribcage and go after what he desperately wanted with every fibre of his being; he bit his tongue again to keep from emitting a noise of despair. Hearing those words could've made him delude himself into believing Paul loved him, but he couldn't do that to himself. He needed Paul to love him like he did him, but he knew it was all fruitless. Paul cared about him, but never as much as John wanted him to. He wouldn't be able to put himself back together if he ever confessed his love only to get an 'I don't love you back' in return.

"I don't need you to care about me." He felt his eyes stinging with unshed tears, and he tried to force them away. Lies, his mind shouted. "I just want to be alone." Another lie.

Paul shook his head, looking utterly taken aback. "What the fuck, John? What the hell is this about?"

He stormed past him; he couldn't stand this anymore. Paul didn't deserve his shitty attitude just because he was afraid. His hands shook as he grabbed his coat and shrugged it on.

"Where are you going?" Paul called after him incredulously - John caught a glance of his wounded, sorrowful expression and he winced, tears swimming in his eyes. You fucking suck, he thought bitterly to himself, dripping with venom.

"Away from you." He flung open the door and charged down the steps into the winter snow; he heard Paul scrambling after him.

"You're such a fucking prick!" He shouted after him. He could hear the hurt in his voice, even if it was masked with fury.. he could tell. "Fuck you, Lennon!"

I deserve it, he thought in frustration as his pace picked up, until he was full on running through the streets - he could feel Paul's eyes on him the whole time until he rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. He could feel a stubborn tear slip down his cheek and he furiously wiped it away, feet stomping along the snow ridden pavement as he continued to sprint. He was running faster than he thought that he had ever run before - like he was running away from everything. His anger at himself for what he said to Paul, for his inability to keep his temper, for all his stupid fucking emotions taking over his life, for Paul taking over his life until he was all he fucking thought about..
He had no idea where he was going. He was just running and running and running, no discernible direction, just running blindly through the streets. As if he could flee from his own fears, from his love for Paul. From his fate. From himself.