The Less I Know The Better [complete]

29 ;; lending books

"Okay, I'll be going up to bed now." Paul's forced his voice to sound as normal as he could. John quickly hid behind the wall out of sight in case Jim would decide to finally turn around.

"Goodnight, James."

Taking that as a dismissal, they finally escaped up the stairs and to the safety of Paul's bedroom. John noticed with worry he'd left quite a large puddle of water in the hallway where he'd been standing. Hopefully Paul could find some acceptable excuse for it.

"God, I hate it when he calls me James." Paul sulked irritably as he took a seat at the edge of his bed.

"Strange that that's your first name." John furrowed his brows. He suddenly felt awkward standing there, shivering and leaving trails of water everywhere like a snail, gaze downcast and focussed on his shoes that squelched with water every time he took a step. He didn't know whether or not it was a good idea that he'd gone down Forthlin Road. He figured it probably would've been better in the long run if he refused Paul's help and just gone on back home. But.. something kept him here. A tugging in his head and heart that told him that it was right to be here, that he needed to make things right. He quickly shoved those thoughts away for a later time, finding them only frustrating in that moment. John saw a flash of white light again, hearing a roar of thunder accompanying it that was much louder than the one before. He gazed outside the window, watching the rain that collided with the glass, the sound of it hammering against the roof muffled but soothing.

"Yeah." Paul seemed to be sharing the feeling of awkwardness, since his ears went rosy red and he rubbed the back of his neck, gaze darting around the whole room as if looking for anything to focus on other than John. "I'll, uh.. get you some dry clothes. You can't wear those ones anymore, they're too wet." With that, he turned away from the other boy and began to rummage through his wardrobe, seemingly searching for clothes. Eventually he resurfaced with black trousers, a deep green jumper and a white t-shirt. He held it out in front of John, still refusing to look at him.

"They're the biggest clothes I got."

"Thanks." John murmured, taking them from him and gently setting them on the bed; he then unveiled his destroyed book and tossed it to the bed before he began to shimmy his soaked coat off. It fell to the floor with a wed thud, and he then took off his shoes and socks.

He could feel Paul's intense gaze soaking into his skin, similar to how the water had soaked into it just before, but he didn't return it. He only began peeling off his jumper next, before going for his school tie. His hands shook with every movement, and he could feel his cheeks flame with nervousness, stomach shuddering with butterflies as Paul continued to watch him. What the hell was going on right now? He let the tie drop to the floor where the rest of his wet clothes resided, before going for the buttons of his white collared shirt. The only thing left before he'd be shirtless. He could feel the tension rising in the room, every hair on his body standing on end, air so thick that his breath began to shallow, feeling as if he was running out of oxygen. Why the fuck was Paul still staring at him from the other side of the room, fully dressed and completely silent? It was simultaneously horribly unnerving and secretly exciting at the same time.
He undid the second one (he never did up the first one, it was too tight on his neck and he hated it), then the third one, beginning to expose his pale chest that shone with water.

The spell was broken, however, when there was a firm knock on the door. The pair nearly jumped out of their skin, freezing in their positions and quickly turning to the door.

"James?" It was Jim.

"D-don't come in, I'm-I'm getting changed!" Paul quickly called out. His voice was trembling, and sneaking a look at him, John saw his pupils were blown wide and his entire face had gone pink. He couldn't see much more than that in the dark.