The Less I Know The Better [complete]

2 ;; first assignments

He saw him in his peripheral vision. The person who all these scathing words were directed towards - at first, the boy tentatively made his way up to the locker as if it would explode or something when he went near it. His back was turned to the three boys spectating (in fact, turned against everyone, since basically all of the students around were watching him at this point) so John couldn't make out his expression. 

But he watched as Paul lifted up shaky hands, tracing a long finger over one of the letters before letting it fall to his side, staring at the thing in front of him with ragged breaths. 

There were snickers and giggles echoing strangely throughout the hallway, sounding as if they were bouncing around the inside of John's ears and worming its way into his brain, infecting his mind and lungs, making it harder to breathe. 

"Shirtlifter!" The word was called out through the haze of laughter, which only caused people to chortle more, totally unaffected at the impact by which the words had on the person that it was sent towards. After what seemed like years of silence, Paul finally turned around. John saw that the boy's expression was stoic and unaffected, looking aloof as ever as he locked eyes with a few of the people staring (who, in turn, looked somewhat disappointed that they didn't get the reaction they desired out of him). 

But - he could see a glimmer of hurt embedded in his leafy irises, alight with barely-suppressed distress. And those eyes - those enticing eyes that John could gaze into for eternity - trained on him as he stood at the other end of the hallway. Ringo and Stuart chattered faintly next to him.

John desperately wanted to say something. Anything, to comfort Paul and wipe away the hurt that was ever present. It was disconcerting to see such an emotion coming from the boy that was so headstrong and seemed to never be affected by anything that surrounds him. The older boy didn't like it, he didn't want to see him sad like that. 

He was dragged away by Stuart before he could even approach him.

"Ey John! Got somethin' to tell ya!" The short boy nudged him, guiding him away from Paul and smirking at him mischievously, a knowing look in his eye.

"What's up?" John tried his best to rid his mind of the image of Paul's eyes filled with hurt and focus on what Stu was saying.

"So's y'know me friend Kev from Liverpool high?" He straightened, looking as if he was about to reveal some sort of wondrous news to his friend. "He told me that one o' the girl's there is interested in ye. She saw ye at Pete's party last week an' said ye guys chatted a bit. Name's Cynthia. Do ye remember?" 

"Uhh.." The older hunted through his memory to see if he would remember the person his friend was talking about; and he remembered, yeah. A mousy-haired girl with a sweet disposition and a charming smile. Someone he was sure he would definitely fall for - but it seemed that fate decided it would not be so, and he couldn't see himself in a relationship with her. "Yeah, I remember." He decided to say with a nonchalant shrug.

"So? You interested in her?" Stuart watched him expectantly.

He knew that he wasn't really, only a mild attraction - but he thought maybe, if he went on a date with her, he would forget about his conflicting feelings for Paul that were running wild ever since he first laid eyes on him. Yes, that would be a good solution. It wouldn't do anyone good for him to grow anymore interested in the elusive boy that seemed set on treating him like a bad smell.

"Yeah, sure. 'd love ta go out with her," he lied through his teeth.

"Gear! I'll tell 'er, she'll probably look ye up an' call ya." Stuart winked and nudged his arm again. "Anyroad, gotta go to class. See ye guys at recess." He waved them off before veering away to the left, around the corner and out of sight.