The Less I Know The Better [complete]

29 ;; lending books

"Jesus, John! Is that you?"

He froze, spinning around and squinting myopic eyes into the darkness. He spotted a figure standing by Paul's house, face obscured due to holding a large blue umbrella that protected him from the storm and shielding his face from the light of the street light a metre away. He was seemingly emptying something into the bins that sat at the curb. He could recognise that voice anywhere, though.

"Um. Hey. Nice weather, huh?" John joked with a weak laugh. If he was honest, he felt frozen to the bone and he couldn't stop shivering, arms wrapped around himself as if it would help warm him up somehow. He felt like he was pretty much underwater at that point, with how soaked he was. His coat and clothes hung limply from his shuddering frame, dripping constant water to the tar of the deserted road he stood on.

"What the hell happened to ya? Don't tell me you thought it a great idea to take a dip in the docks at ten at night." Paul hurried forward, eventually reaching him as he instinctively reached out a hand to touch his arm. His hand came back wet and he cringed a little, quickly wiping his hand on his dry jeans. John could see his face now, even if it was still quite blurry - and Paul's face was contorted in concern. This wasn't how he thought it would go. His chest felt like it was expanding wider, as if he suddenly had more room to take in oxygen.

"Of course, 'cause I fancy gettin' hypothermia." He chuckled humourlessly, pulling his arms closer in on himself. "What are you doin'?"

"Just puttin' out the rubbish before I went to bed.." Paul paused for a moment; he was seemingly thinking to himself. John waited with bated breath. "you're gonna catch yer death out here. Come on, inside." His voice hardened with determination and he took John's wrist, angling the umbrella so it would shield him too as he began to drag him back to the house.

"What?" John exclaimed in utter disbelief. "No way."

"Inside, now! 'm not about to let you trudge all the bloody way to Menlove in this weather. I'm not heartless." He noticed Paul rolling his eyes in the darkness, and the auburn-haired boy couldn't help but chuckle at that. Always stubborn, he was.

"Okay, okay, mum! Jeez." John relented, lips pulled up in an amused smile. He could barely feel them, though, since they'd gone almost completely numb. Eventually the two boys - one completely dry and the other looking like a human otter - reached the front door. The younger peered through the window that looked into the kitchen, glad he could see a gap through the curtains, and noticed that his father Jim was busy washing the dirty plates from dinner a few hours ago, back turned to the hallway which they'd have to walk through to get to Paul's room. That was their chance.

"Okay-" Paul turned to John and pressed a finger to his lips. After that, he slowly opened up the door, peering in one more time to check they were all clear before gesturing for John to follow. The two began to creep into the house, John shutting the door behind him softly; they paused, hiding behind the wall and peering through the archway that led to the kitchen. Jim still had his back turned to them, so they began to tiptoe as quickly as possible to get to the bottom of the stairs a few metres away.

"James!" Jim called. They both froze, wide, scared eyes meeting, but Jim still didn't turn around, thank god, so they stayed still in their positions, John not daring to move a single muscle. There was a soft patter as his clothes continued to drip water, soaking the worn floorboards of the McCartney house.

"Yeah?" Paul gently placed the closed umbrella by the shoe rack.

"Take out the rubbish, did you?" His dad continued to face his back to them, washing the dishes.

"Yep, I did-" Paul's words died in his throat suddenly when Mike made his way into the kitchen from the lounge room, carrying a magazine. His younger brother had spotted the two immediately, and he stared wide-eyed at John, who managed a sheepish smile and a joking salute. Paul put his finger to his lips again, making a gesture across his neck as he stared frantically at Mike. All his brother did was grin knowingly, making his way to the hallway - he muttered "sneaking people in now, are we?" to Paul as he passed (who glared with red cheeks at him in return) before ascending the stairs and disappearing out of sight.