John leant comfortably against the lockers as he sat on the floor of the hallway, half-eaten sandwich in hand as he fiddled with his cigarette lighter, igniting the flame over and over again, only somewhat paying attention to whatever his three friends were talking about. It was nice to spend their lunch break out in the corridors, mainly deserted except for the occasional teacher walking by or student opening up their lockers; the cafeteria had been much too packed, as if every student in the entire school decided to spend their time in there to escape the cold weather, and they had had no inclinations to try and find a table to sit at and eat in there. That is, when they'd peered inside, it didn't even look like there was a single free spot at all if they'd actually wanted one. Now, with Paul sitting next to him, close enough for their shoulders to brush, John felt pretty content to just sit there and listen to his friends chatter on, not feeling much like joining in. It was only Tuesday, but John felt so sick of the school week already that he wanted nothing more than to just get suspended so he could have a few days at home. It was nice to have Paul beside him in some of his classes and to spend time with him, George and Ringo during breaks to help push him along, but they could only do so much, really. He was just waiting for the whole term to be over.
He glanced at Paul; the younger boy had finished his food and he was talking with George and Ringo about whatever it was they were talking about. As if he'd sensed John's eyes on him, he glanced over to meet his gaze, his sentence trailing off into silence - John offered a tentative smile, and Paul returned it after a second, gaze sparkling slightly as he nudged his shoulder playfully. The older boy's eyes dropped to his lips, and he felt his heart skip a beat as memories of the night before filled his mind. But of course, their moment had to be broken when George poked him in the shoulder.
"Hey!" His thick brows were furrowed, eyes focussed on a certain spot on John's neck - the auburn-haired boy felt his cheeks heat up immediately, knowing exactly what he was looking at, and he quickly adjusted his shirt collar in order to conceal from view.
"What?" He asked innocently, and he could see Paul fighting to hide his smug grin out of the corner of his eye.
George's sharp eyes flicked to Paul, before flitting back to John, and a slow grin crawled across his lips and he poked John's shoulder again.
"You've got a bloody hickey!" He declared loudly. John hissed a "shh!", kicking him harshly in the shin when his announcement caught the attention of a teacher walking by, who furrowed his brows at them, bewildered, as he walked past, though luckily he said nothing and kept moving. "Ow! Jeez, John." George muttered, rubbing his shin and glaring at him petulantly for a moment before Ringo spoke up.
"Well, you two must've had fun last night." He smirked.
"Shut up." He rolled his eyes, though he couldn't stop a satisfied smile from appearing. "Don't go yelling it to the world, please."
John thought back on what they did again. It had been pretty awkward for some of it, filled with shy giggles and fumbling movements and unsure glances; it had been brand new territory in their relationship, after all, and even though they'd both had sexual experiences before, Paul had never done anything with another guy, and they hadn't with each other before then. But, at the same time, it had been so exhilarating - exploring further and sharing a moment of intimacy. It hadn't been a race to the finish line, like it often had with other partners John had been with; they'd taken their time, relishing every second spent together, imprinting that night permanently in their minds. It was loving. John had never really done anything like that before, but he certainly would do it again. And now him and Paul shared a new sense of comfort around each other, a sense of familiarity. Like they'd gotten to know each other a bit more. It made John's heart race with barely contained excitement.
Later on, in maths class, John was endlessly bored. What bloody use does all these stupid equations have for his future? Why does he have to sit here and listen to some old codger bore him to the point of being one step away from smashing the desk in front of him over his damn head and walking out? It just didn't make any sense to him. And, not to mention the fact that Paul - the goody two-shoes smart arsehole he was - was paying full attention and writing down as much as he could, checking the textbook in front of him for confirmation and sometimes raising his hand to ask questions. It was so annoying. John wanted to grab his stupid face and snog him to shut him up and get him to stop being a good student and talk to him instead. Then he wouldn't be so damn bored.
He continued to sit there, head resting in his hands, eyelids close to closing and pointedly yawning, trying not to grin whenever the teacher sent him glares for doing so; eventually, he got an idea in his head.
He turned to look at Paul - the raven-haired boy was writing something down in his work book, brows knotted and lips pursed in concentration. John couldn't help but grin a little at his adorable expression before he reached up and flicked him on the ear, quickly turning back to the front as if he hadn't done anything, even though it was clear that he had. He felt Paul's eyes on him for a moment, but it seemed he'd decided not to indulge in his behaviour and simply went back to what he was doing. John nearly gave himself away by chuckling. He waited a few more seconds before doing it again, biting his lip to hide his grin when Paul huffed in clear annoyance and itched absentmindedly at his ear before going back to work again. When he did it for the third time, he finally got his desired reaction.
"John!" He groaned, putting his palm to his head for a moment before turning to glower at him half-heartedly, trying desperately to stop himself from smiling. "C'mon. If you're not gonna do any work, at least let me do mine."
"But I hate this.." his voice was bordering on whining. He pouted at Paul. "Can't we just go ditch or somethin'?"
"Do you wanna fail?" The raven-haired boy raised his eyebrows.
"Ugh. I don't care." He let his head fall onto the table.
Paul nudged him, finally letting his fond smile take over.
"I'll help you. C'mon."
"I don't wanna."
"Well, too bad. I'm making you." He gripped John's shoulder and the older boy reluctantly lifted his head so Paul could grab his workbook and open it up, beginning to explain where they were up to and what exactly they were doing - John couldn't pay a single ounce of attention, though, and he took to staring longingly at the younger boy, eyes catching on his lips and wanting once again to shut him up by snogging him. He should be paying attention to what he was saying, he knew that, but Paul was just too damn attractive all the time and he couldn't bring himself to even think about maths.
"You're not even listening to me, are you?" Paul sighed, bringing John's attention back to the present; he blinked, smiling sheepishly in response. "Fuck's sake," the younger boy muttered.
"I can't help it!" He threw up his hands before leaning closer to Paul, grinning wildly and lowering his voice. "You're very attractive when you play the teacher."
Paul's cheeks flushed deep red. "Eh, shut up." He mumbled stiffly.
John was about to reply when the teacher came up to their desks, glaring down at them unimpressed.
"What are you two whispering about?"
"Nothing, sir." Paul spoke quickly. John only just managed to stop himself from snorting in laughter; the teacher only raised an eyebrow before moving away and back to the front of the class. They fell silent, the younger boy going back to doing his work as usual, while John rested his head on the desk, sighing in his renewed boredom. But it only lasted for a few seconds - something hit him in the back of the head, causing him to startle slightly before turning around to see what it was. A few rows behind them, he spotted Kevin surrounded by a few other boys, sniggering to each other; John furrowed his brows, gaze dropping to the ground and noticing a crumpled up piece of paper.
"Read it, Lennon!" Kevin smirked, chuckling. John sneered, picking it up and turning his back on them before unravelling it.
'Dirty queers' was written in a messy scrawl. The auburn-haired boy's stomach dropped, and he instinctively scrunched it back up and tossed it away from him, jaw clenched and feeling as if he was one step away from bashing Kevin's stupid head in. He knew it was stupid. They were just looking for a fight, like they often did. It didn't matter. It didn't stop the words from hurting, though.
"What happened?" Paul furrowed his brows, watching John closely. "What'd it say?"
John hesitated, biting his tongue for a moment as he thought to himself. It wouldn't do Paul any good seeing what the note had said. He didn't need to know; the rumours that Kevin and his goons had started a while ago had already pretty much become yesterday's news in a sense, and things were settling down - Paul had been the most afraid of people knowing the true nature of his and John's relationship and he wasn't about to trigger those fears again and cause the younger boy to withdraw. That had already happened once.. John didn't want it to happen ever again.
"Nothin'." He shrugged, picking up his pen and twirling it between his fingers. "Nothin' important, anyroad."
Hours later, in the comforting privacy of John's room and the darkness of night, John had inexplicably decided to hug Paul out of nowhere, tightly and with his head buried in the comfort of his neck, taking deep breaths and unwilling to let go, as if the raven-haired boy would disappear the moment he released his grip - Paul held him back without questioning what had caused him to display a moment of vulnerability, though John could feel his eyes on him, asking what had happened without words. The only sounds they heard was the muted patter of rain against the window panes and their quiet, steady breaths in the deathly silence. They stayed like that for a long time.
On the morning of the third day of December, John saw the first hints of snow. It was pretty much wet slush, really, littered out across the streets and melting on top of cars and in gutters under the feeble rays of the sun, as if someone had smeared ice cream everywhere and left it to melt. John shivered a little, imagining walking out there amongst the freezing half-melted snow. They would be puddles of water by midday, he figured. But it was an inkling of what was soon to come.
Yawning, he stretched his arms wide before delicately slipping out a cigarette from his packet on his desk, itching for a morning smoke; he stuck it between his lips and lit it up, taking a long drag before sitting back on his bed. He wondered whether he should spend time with Paul that weekend. Maybe George and Ringo, too - he didn't feel very inclined to spend it at home by himself with only Mimi for company. It was probably going to be a bit too cold to go anywhere.
His thoughts were interrupted, though, when Mimi's voice called his name from the floor below, and he started slightly before getting to his feet.
"What?" He yelled back.
"Your friend's on the phone for you!"
He brightened up at those words. Paul, maybe?
John opened his bedroom door and emerged into the hallway, making quick work of the staircase before appearing at Mimi's side in the front corridor where the phone was situated - she glanced at him, eyes narrowed before holding the phone out in front of him for him to take. He took it gladly and pressed it up against his ear, taking one last quick drag of his cigarette before speaking, watching as his aunt retreated into the kitchen.
"'Ello, 'ello, who's this arl' fella?" He put on a strange, exaggerated scouse accent, biting his lip as he waited for the desired response.
A laugh sounded from the other line, lovely and familiar and the cause of John's pleased grin.
"'S Paul. Can I come over for a bit?"
"'Course." He answered immediately. "Hey, I'm gonna ask George and Rings to come over too. That'll be fun."
"Sure." Paul agreed amiably. John realised that maybe Mimi wouldn't be pleased with him if he didn't consult her first, so he muttered 'one sec' and lifted his head to call out to her.
"Mimi, Paul's coming over. George and Ringo too, probably. That okay?"
He rolled his eyes a little at her reluctant sigh. He knew what she thought of his friends - of Paul and George with their poor backgrounds and teddy boy style of dress. She thought the same of Ringo too, but after the long years of them being tight-knit friends she'd ended up tolerating it. He didn't really give a shit what she thought of them, though, even if her views did annoy him quite a bit. John was the biggest troublemaker out of all of them, really - he was the worst influence.
"Yes, John. That's fine." She answered eventually. "I'm going to have dinner at a friend's place tonight, so you four will have the house to yourselves until I'm back at around eleven. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, please."
"Okay." He grinned, excited to know that Mimi'll be out for the night before he turned back to the phone to address Paul again. "See you in twenty minutes?"
"Yep," A pause. "See you then."
"See you." John grinned. With that, Paul hung up, and John began to dial George's number in order to ask him to come over as well; there was no answer for the first three or so rings until he finally answered.
"Hello?" George's voice sounded thick and sleepy, like he'd woken up only recently - he wondered whether his phone call had been the thing that had woken him up. There was a shuffling, then a voice sounded in the background that was strangely familiar, and George answered with a quiet 'just a moment,' before he fell silent, obviously waiting for John to speak.
"Oy, Geo. It's John." He leant against the wall. "Come over today? Paul's comin' too, and I'm about to call Ringo."
"Oh," He paused. "Yeah, sure." Another beat of silence, and his voice had taken on a strange, slightly nervous tone. "Ringo's here. I'll tell 'im."
"He's with you?" John twirled the phone cord around his finger for a moment before letting go.
"Uh-yeah-" His voice took on a hurried tone. "We- we were just hangin' out." There was silence, before his voice sounded again, muffled like he'd placed his hand over the receiver; talking to Ringo, John assumed, and there was a distant reply before George put the phone back to his ear. "Yeah. We'll come."
John furrowed his brows, growing a tad suspicious now. He sounded bizarrely anxious and strange at the mention of Ringo. What was going on? He hadn't expected for Ringo to be at George's house on a Saturday morning, either. Had he stayed the night?
"Alright. See you guys soon?" He bit his lip, deciding to just push the strange occurrence aside and forget about it for the moment. It was probably nothing.
"Yeah. See ya," Then there was a beep, indicating George had hung up. John lingered for a few seconds, still a little bewildered, before he put the phone down and retreated to his room to wait for them to arrive.
Paul was the first, of course, arriving with flushed cheeks and a cheerful grin, dressed in a thick black pea coat, black shoes and a grey jumper paired with brown trousers; John had answered the door, and seeing the younger boy on his doorstep, running a hand through his hair and training his glinting eyes on him, grin widening even more - he had to summon every ounce of energy in his body to stop himself from just grabbing his face and snogging the life out of him. John swore one day he'd die from the sheer amount of bloody feelings Paul made him feel.
"Hi." He greeted simply.
"Hey." John sucked in a breath. He gripped onto Paul's arm and hastily guided him into the house and out of the cold, fully aware of Mimi's hawk-like eyes on them as he basically dragged him up the stairs. "Come on." Paul followed without question, though he attempted a polite 'morning, Mrs. Smith' (which didn't really do much) before he was pulled out of sight. The moment John's bedroom door slammed shut after them, the auburn-haired boy pressed him up against it and captured his lips in an urgent kiss. Paul froze for a moment, caught off guard, until he quickly relaxed into it and wrapped his arms around John's waist. It only lasted for a few seconds before John pulled away, watching the younger's eyes flutter open, wide and blinking, lips parted in a completely dumbfounded expression before a shy grin overtook them, face flushing deep all the way up to his hair. It was adorable.
"What was that for?" He asked, somewhat breathlessly, pulling John closer until they were flush against each other.
"Sorry," John murmured, unable to stop his giddy grin as he pecked his lips briefly one more time. "Couldn't resist."
Paul blushed even more, though his eyes twinkled with a delight that made John's head spin. "You're impossible." He brought his hands up to grip his shoulders before guiding him into another kiss - more calm this time, slow and sweet. John smiled into it, brushing his fingers against the back of Paul's neck, cold compared to his fingers due to having been outside in the freezing weather.
"Need to warm you up, love." He murmured against his lips.
"Yeah." Paul shivered slightly.
Their moment was interrupted, though, when Mimi called up to John for the second time that morning.
"John, your other friends are here!"
They pulled apart, sharing one last quick kiss before the both of them went back downstairs to greet their friends. George and Ringo were standing close together, making polite idle conversation with his aunt before greeting John and Paul and following them up to John's room. When they made it inside, Paul flopped dramatically onto his bed and stretched out his limbs like a starfish, sighing in content; John chuckled at the sight.
"Make yourself at home, why don't you?" He joked, rolling his eyes.
"Paul's always like that," George grinned as he took off his shoes and jacket, Ringo and Paul following suit in order to get comfortable. "Acts like he owns the joint."
"Hey!" Paul protested, chucking a shoe in his friend's direction - it hit him in the chest and thumped to the floor, and George let out an 'ow!' and glared at him, mock offended.
"Paul," he gasped, pretending to burst into tears. "We're best friends! How could you turn on me like this?"
"Your fault," Paul chuckled. "Stop being a drama queen."
John laughed, moving to sit down on his bed with him.
"Look who's talking." George shot back.
Paul wrapped his arms around John from behind, and he bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling as the younger boy rested his head on his shoulder.
"Save me from that mean bastard," He whined.
John patted his shoulder, rolling his eyes at his dramatics. "Yeah, yeah."
"Seems like you guys are back to normal." Ringo commented with a grin.
John's cheeks flushed, embarrassed as he remembered how him and Paul acted during their time apart. Jesus, they'd been so bad at communicating.
"Yeah, and what of it?"
"Nothing." Ringo shrugged. "Just happy to see it." He joined them on the bed, sitting across from them on the mattress and crossing his legs - George quickly followed suit, and John didn't miss the way their sides brushed and they both started a little, cheeks burning as they met gazes before quickly looking at their laps, the younger boy seemingly trying to suppress a smile. John then remembered how George had sounded on the phone, and he couldn't stop himself from blurting out.
"What's going on with you two?"
Ringo looked up so quickly John was surprised he didn't crack his neck or something.
"What?"
"Nothing!" George's voice was unnaturally high. "What are you on about?" He was immediately defensive, and John felt a little bad, deciding to try and dial it back a little after seeing their obvious anxiety. He didn't want to pressure them into telling him what had happened, even if it was a little obvious that something had transpired between them. They could come to him when they were ready; he wasn't about to out them if they didn't want people knowing just yet.
"Okay, nevermind." He held up his hands. He was about to change the subject, but it seemed Paul had decided to take up that job for him instead.
"John, love?" He turned around to see Paul lying down, one hand idly stroking John's side as he gazed up at him inquiringly.
"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Put on some music. Just in the background."
"Sure." He (regrettably) removed himself from Paul's grasp and made his way to his record player on the other side of the room, shuffling through the records he had stacked on his shelf before choosing an Elvis album, one he'd listened to so many times he swore the plastic should've started wearing away or something - he placed it on the player and carefully positioned the needle to the start, feeling an involuntary, yet familiar warmth bubble in his navel at the sultry voice of the King. He couldn't help the fact that Elvis's voice was always a bit of a turn on for him. Making sure the volume was quiet enough so they could talk normally, he went and hopped back on the bed, leaning back so he could lie beside Paul and rest his legs on George's lap.
"Guys!" Ringo burst out.
"What?" John turned to him.
"Can you believe we got only two more weeks until school's over?"
"Yes!" John threw up his hands in glee. "Thank Christ. I think I'd rather attend one of Mimi's get-togethers with her ancient decrepit friends and listen to them gossip about their neighbours than have to put up with it any longer." He groaned dramatically. "I need a break."
"Only two terms left before we graduate completely." Ringo shivered a little. "A bit terrifying."
"Yeah." He turned to George and Paul. "You lads still got a bit more, haven't ya?"
"Yeah, we both got two more." Paul shrugged.
John chuckled, feeling a tad smug. "Unlucky bastards." Paul only rolled his eyes at that, unimpressed, though George laughed, whacking his shin lightly and saying 'don't be a prick.'
"We'll have to come and see you guys after school." John tilted his head, imagining the sight. Like they were boyfriends coming to pick their girlfriends up from school for dates or something. He snorted a bit at the image.
"Wonder what we should do when it's over." Ringo pondered, thoughtful.
"Oh, god, don't bring that up." John groaned. "Cyn's already asked me and I have no bloody clue."
"Cyn? D'you mean that girl you dated for a bit?" Ringo furrowed his brows at him.
"Yeah." He shrugged. "We still hang out sometimes."
"Really?" Paul suddenly spoke up from beside him, and he rolled his head over to see the younger boy frowning at him. He sighed, knowing exactly what he was thinking.
"Paul, it's fine." He put a hand on his arm, squeezing for a moment before sliding his hand down to entwine their fingers. "I know what you're thinkin', and I promise we're just friends."
Paul stared at him for a few seconds longer, lips quirking slightly before he relaxed, seemingly conceding. "Okay."
George chortled, looking as if he found Paul's jealousy incredibly amusing. "First Stuart, now this!"
"Shut up!" Paul kicked him with a glower, though his pink ears gave him away. George kept laughing, though, and John came to Paul's defence.
"Oi, steady on." He frowned at George. "You'd probably be the same if Ringo had a girl or somethin' too."
This made the dark-eyed boy freeze and nearly choke on his laughter, spluttering an incredulous "what?!" and a few "what the-" and "huh"'s as if he had suddenly lost the ability to string sentences together; John grinned mischievously at the sight.
"Sorry guys, but you haven't exactly been subtle." Damnit, he was just going to leave it and not pester them about it, but now it was a bit late.
"The hell you on about?" Ringo's cheeks went as red as George's jumper. John nearly cringed visibly at their utter embarrassment, and he felt a little sorry for them.
"Sorry. Wouldn't have brought it up if I'd known it would make you guys so embarrassed."
Paul grinned. "You two.. Finally. Fuck's sake." He shook his head, as if to say 'it really took this long?' and John had to agree. They'd been dancing around each other in a bizarre (and, quite frankly, obvious) mutual pining for months, practically ever since they first laid eyes on each other. He was glad they'd finally gotten around to it, though.
"Yeah, okay, fine. We surrender." Ringo rolled his eyes. "Can we talk about somethin' else?"
They moved the conversation on to talk about other things. At first, they talked about relationships and their experiences for a bit, until it flowed through to music and concerts; something that they were always eager to talk about in a group, since they all shared a common love for it and it was something so easy to fall back on. Eventually it moved on to other things, and they yammered on late into the night. At some point, George and Ringo went home for dinner, and Paul called up Jim to ask if he could stay the night - thankfully, getting the green light - while Mimi left to go to her friend's. Once she was gone, they eagerly stole one of her bottles of wine and shared it between each other until they were tipsy (John didn't feel like getting any more drunk than that, so he quickly put it back with about a third of the wine left). They set up a mattress and blankets for Paul; a mere precaution, really, since they knew he would just sleep with John, and they laid together in each other's arms and whispered about everything and nothing. At some point, Paul had fallen asleep, and John had watched him with a dopey smile on his face until he slipped into unconsciousness.