⇾ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

Chapter Eighty-Five: Goodnight, Love

"He was just being a friend," I snapped.

"How so?"

"Well, what the hell do you do with Paul? We just sat there and talked the whole time. For God's sake, stop being so jealous."

"Jealous?" His gaze was hard now, his eyes bright in anger.

"Yup," I responded challengingly. "Jealous."

He was about to shoot something back, but a knock on the door halted the discussion. He stood up to see whoever it was, and I went into the bathroom, feeling ill again. I rummaged around in one of the bags we had in there, searching desperately for something to take to make my head stop hurting.

I heard John open the door. "Paul," he greeted, sounding unenthusiastic.

"Brian told me to make sure you're up," I heard Paul vaguely respond. I looked at my watch and that's when I realized it was already nine. "He wants to discuss today over breakfast in fifteen minutes."

"Well, tell him Donna's a little ill and so we might be a bit late." As if on cue, I threw up again, managing to close the bathroom door behind me first, with my foot, since it wasn't a very large room.

"A-alright, then," I heard Paul respond, his voice sounding awkward.

"See you soon, Paul."

"See you soon." Paul mumbled the last sentence so low I barely even heard it.

A moment after I heard John close the door again, the bathroom door I'd just closed cracked open again.

"Donna," John said, his voice sounding upset. "I'm so sorry."

I was already crying from being sick, but his voice made it worse. "I want to say it's okay. I really do," I told him between my crying. "But it's not okay, and I don't know why."

"I know why," he said, opening the door all the way and leaning against the doorway. "I fucked up," he murmured. "I realized it before it got too bad, but you still have every right to be upset."

I moved my head away from where it was hovering over the toilet and laid it against the cool surface of the bathtub, trying to slow my breathing down. "You probably think I look so pathetic right now," I spluttered, laughing half-heartedly.

He chuckled. "Of course not."

~~~

"Feeling better, Donna?" Paul asked as John and I took the last two seats at the table everyone was sat at. My throat was hurting and I'd barely gotten anything for breakfast in fear that it would upset my stomach again. I was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and a jacket because I was now unnecessarily cold. I probably looked like I was about to shoot up the place.

"Not really," I responded blankly.

No one said anything.

"Okay, well," Brian spoke up, clearing his throat. "What I was just telling the others was that there will be a press conference in a few hours before the concerts. Donna, if you're not feeling up to it, you're welcome to stay here."

I shook my head. "No, I'll be fine, I promise."

"Well, if you change your mind, the offer will still stand."

Brian continued to discuss the next few days. Two shows, every night. This was going to be exciting. By the time lunch was over, Brian announced that there was only two hours or so left until the press conference.

We all went back upstairs to our rooms. When John and I made it to ours, I crawled into the bed.

"I dunno what's wrong with me." I said, curling up in a fetal position.

John came up behind me and sat down on the bed, running his hands along my back comfortingly. "Maybe you should get some rest," he said.

"You'll wake me up before the press conference, won't you?" I asked him.

"I can't make any promises, but I'll keep it in mind," he quipped.

I turned and frowned at him.

"Oh, alright. Yes, I will."

"Okay," I said. "I'm gonna go to sleep now."

"Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight."