"Aye, John."
"Ringo, my commandant! What should I tell the troops?"
Rusting metal glinted in pale sunlight as John twirled his lock around his finger, leaning against his dented locker and grinning at his friend; the shorter boy just rolled his eyes, used to his jest, instead shoving his hands in his pockets and falling against the locker next to his, watching the auburn-haired boy return to rummaging through it.
"That 'm bored."
"I think we all are at this point." John agreed, letting out a sigh. Attending science was not exactly one of his top priorities. "You know where Dracula and Elvis knockoff are?"
Ringo let out a faint chuckle at the nicknames before shaking his head. "No, not really. We hung out at the start of school, but you weren't there-"
"I slept in. Detention next week for it." He interrupted, glancing at his friend with a 'duh' expression before slamming his locker shut. "D'you expect any different?"
"Not really."
Ringo smiled fondly, nudging his shoulder. "Now, d'you wanna ditch? Or is science suddenly lookin' good to ya?"
John paused for a moment, about to reply; though was cut off when a familiar pair walked up to them. He lifted his eyes to meet theirs, cursing under his breath when he locked eyes with a half-smiling Paul and his cheeks grew pathetically warm in response. Off to a great start, aren't we? He thought with an inward grown, turning his attention to his suddenly interesting shoes.
"What are you girls gossiping about?" George questioned with a grin, giggling a little when Ringo shoved him playfully in response.
"Wanna ditch? We can go to the record shop."
John wasn't really listening. It had been nearly two weeks since he'd last hung out with Paul outside of school, and he'd felt strangely empty for the entire time without his presence. He'd spent almost every waking moment thinking about him since then, unable to stop no matter what he'd do. It was insanely frustrating at that point. He was just some kid who - until recently - he'd disliked! He had no right to take up all of his brain space every hour of the day. He'd never thought about someone this much, maybe a few girls he'd been with in the past, but this seemed to be on another level. It was just annoying.
Especially when he knew that Paul probably wasn't even thinking twice on him. That's what made it all the worse.
Forcing himself from his thoughts, he turned back to Paul and threw an arm around his shoulders him with one of his snarky grins, guiding him away as they trailed after George and Ringo - who were chattering on about something or other.
"How's it in McCartney land, eh?" He let go of him; not without flicking him in the face as he did so, garnering a somewhat amused but annoyed reaction from the other as he shoved him away with a grin before shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Alright. You?" Paul turned to look at him with a friendly glint in his eyes. It was a strange sight to John to behold, as he was used to piercing glares and clenched teeth directed his way. It made his stomach flutter excitedly.
"Thinkin' about what next rock 'n' roll record I can steal." He proclaimed.
"Oh, god, don't." The raven-haired boy groaned. "What if it goes wrong?"
"What? Little Macca scared of the big bad record shop worker?" John teased, flicking his nose; Paul shrunk away with a glare - but it seemed he'd gotten an idea, as a mischievous grin spread across his face, and he instead poked his own aquiline nose in retaliation. With that, a strange nose-flicking fight began and Paul took off after John down the street outside their school, passing George and Ringo and continuing on (John continually threw "Can't catch me, Sherlock Holmes!" over his shoulder as they ran, causing Paul to laugh).
Eventually they grew tired and slowed so their friends could catch up, Paul declaring himself the rightful winner; John disagreed, but eventually conceded when the younger boy promised to get him chips sometime. Then Ringo reminded him of something that he'd almost forgotten.
"John! Yer birthday is next week, isn't it?"
"Huh? Oh-" He shrugged a little, slipping his packet of cigarettes idly from his pocket to stick one between his lips. "yeah."
"Were you gonna do anythin' for it?" George queried.
"I dunno. I'd planned on havin' a big party or somethin', but.. I don't really want to anymore."
"We should do somethin' for it!" Ringo suggested with a wide grin. "Y'know, 's not every day someone turns eighteen,"
"Yeah, yer officially an adult then!" Paul added.
The almond-eyed boy stayed silent for a few moments, taking a long puff of his cig before sighing as he conceded to the idea.
"Yeah, why not. But what're we gonna do, then?"
"Could probably go to some pubs, maybe pick up a few birds. Eh?" His azure-eyed friend grinned even wider, tugging on his own ear lobe in a mischievous gesture. John just rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the idea of having yet another one night stand with a girl. He used to love it, but now his developing feelings for Paul caused him to completely lose interest. Reminder to self, he thought, tell Ringo about it.
"Nah. The pubs sound nice, though."
"It's settled, then!" George clapped his hands together excitedly. "Now we can legally get drinks at a pub with you there!"
"Don't you go thinkin' I'll be shouting ya every time, now." John chided with a joking point of his finger in the younger boy's direction. "'m not a bank."
"Really? I never would've guessed."
"Dickhead." John chuckled, shaking his head; the four of them had finally reached the record shop and squeezed their way inside, already beginning to scour through the displays. It was always a welcome sight to John. The smell of mature, thick paper laden with dust, the feel of sable chiselled disks in hand - though he was always careful to hold the edges and not smudge fingerprints on the record - and the shop always playing some type of rock or jazz song faintly from the record player at the front desk. It felt like a safe place; and there didn't seem to be many people hanging about besides them, and he preferred it that way.
Ringo had gone off by himself to look through records on the other side of the shop, George picking up one and making his way to the cashier to ask something, while Paul seemed to trail after John as he thumbed through 'B'. Eventually he came across a Buddy Holly single that he'd been wanting to listen to for a while, and he examined it with a soft gasp, running a finger along the cover.
"Oh! I've been wantin' this for a while. Words Of Love." He grinned, though all his muscles tensed and his heart jumped crazily in his chest when Paul leant over his shoulder to see it, chin brushing it lightly as he did so. He couldn't help but notice the warmth radiating from him, chest bumping against his back for a second before moving away.
"Aye! Let's go listen to it, then." The droopy-eyed boy then grabbed his wrist and began to drag him away from the isles, John uttering weak protests but eventually giving up when they reached the little room that was reserved for listening to records. It was dark and cramped; only a muted orange light spilled from the dingy bulb hanging above them, and the walls were concealed with posters placed all around. In the middle was the record player, a few rows of records stacked up on the left, and headphones that rested on top of it, plugged into the player for them to listen. There was only enough room for about four people to huddle around the record player closely, and John was suddenly aware of the thickness of the air and Paul's elbow brushing against his arm as he began to take the record out of its slip to put it on the player.
"So dark in here. I can't see shit." John commented with a chuckle, squinting around at the room. The fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses was definitely very detrimental at that moment, and it seemed that Paul had picked up on it - he slipped a delicate hand into John's breast pocket of his school shirt, nimble fingers brushing his chest briefly before he took out his glasses, holding them out in front of him with an expectant look on his face. John was rendered speechless from the action, mouth slightly agape and heart beating wildly; the skin that Paul had touched through the fabric tingled crazily and he had to force himself back to reality to take the glasses, every nerve ending fizzling like fireworks. His hands shook slightly as he slipped them on the bridge of his nose, fixing his gaze determinedly on the record player. Paul seemed completely unaffected by what he'd done, instead just picking up the needle to gently place it on the beginning of the song, looking excited. This is bad. Why is Paul acting so normal? Oh god. You're getting in fucking deep John.
"Here we go. There's only one pair of headphones, so we got to share.." Paul picked them up, glancing to John with an easy smile as he held them up. John swallowed inaudibly, trying to keep his nerves under control as he forced himself to lean in next to Paul to fit the headphones on; they had to press the sides of their heads together to fit them on, and John felt his cheeks burn so hot he swore they would burst into flame at any moment. He couldn't stop focussing on how Paul's shoulder was pressed against his, the warmth of the edge of his face against his as the boy's ebony locks tickled his neck. John felt his forehead begin to break out in sweat.
Keep it together. Just.. he scolded himself. Letting his eyes slowly flutter shut, he pressured himself to just focus on the music, the upbeat beginning chords of the song serenading him and eventually consuming his thoughts. Buddy Holly eventually began to croon in his ear;
"Hold me close and tell me how you feel,"
"Tell me love is real,"
Him and Paul exchanged a quick glance, John feeling his heart leap when he saw the grin on the younger boy's face, the pair starting to sway with the music as Paul clicked his fingers in time with the rhythm. John felt himself calm down as they continued to listen, instead just feeling a sense of joy coursing through his veins, everything else in the world dissolving into the carpet. Just him, Paul, and the music. It felt so natural, so normal, for them to do something like this.. with anyone else, it wouldn't feel right. But for some odd reason, with Paul, he could imagine sitting there, eye to eye with him, just letting the music surround them with its voices and sounds. It was one of the most important things in their lives, after all.
Eventually, that stolen moment they'd shared of a hidden intimacy was over with the song, Paul being the first to move - he pulled off the headphones and nicked the record back off the player, slipping it back into its case.
"That was great." John commented, still reeling from what had happened and feeling oddly cold without Paul pressing up against him.
"I might just buy you that for yer birthday, then." Paul grinned at him, eyes twinkling in the darkness, and John's heart leapt all over again.
"No, no, y' don't have to-"
"Oh, shut it, wouldja?"
The younger boy rolled those enticing eyes and sent one last smirk his way before opening the door to the main room, flooding it with bright light; the auburn-haired boy shied away from it with a hand over his eyes, having gotten adjusted to the darkness and unused to the light. He was then left alone, standing like a total idiot in the no longer dark room, nervous to emerge. Sucking in a breath, he pocketed his glasses and made his way back into the main area of the shop. George and Ringo had been waiting by the front door, both of them smirking knowingly as the pair came up the them.
"How was yer sesh, boys?" George emphasised 'sesh' with a fanged grin, the four of them beginning to bustle out of the shop, not having gotten anything.
"George!" Paul shoved him with a glare; John noticed a sudden anxiety in him, fingers twirling a loose string from his trousers over and over again as he walked a little further ahead. No longer near or looking at John. His heart sunk a little at the sight, seeing that the joking insinuation George had made had set him off, and it obviously was sensitive or uncomfortable for him. Well, there goes what little chance I had, I guess.
"Um, well- I gotta go, now. See you guys later." Paul spoke rather quickly, and John noticed him biting his nails anxiously, gaze flitting around him before he sent a weak, halfhearted wave before spinning around to make his way down the other way on the street, not waiting for any kind of response.
"What set him off?" Ringo wondered aloud, eyebrows furrowing.
"I dunno. Let's go, Rings, yeah? I need to talk to ya." John grabbed his elbow, beginning to lead him away. He'd almost forgotten George's existence, and flipped around to say his goodbyes to him. "See ya on the weekend, probably?"
"Yeah, sure." George shrugged, understanding that they needed to talk, sending them one last wave before jogging to catch up with Paul.
"What is it? What happened with you and Paul?" Ringo immediately began to question him curiously the moment George was gone, John's steps hasty as he took out another cigarette while they made their way to his house.
"I'll tell you when we get back to mine."
"Did anythin' happen?" Ringo's eyes went wide.
"No, no! Nothin' like that. Look, just- not here." John hissed back, gesturing vaguely to the environment around them. Obviously not the best place to be discussing queer crushes.
With that, they fell into a silence for the rest of the trip, it not being too long - eventually they made it home and quickly hopped up the steps into John's bedroom. Mimi wasn't home, thank god, and the pair could settle comfortably in his room. The air was a little stale in his messy, chaotic bedroom, but he didn't want to leave the window open for fear of someone outside hearing him talk as they walked past. Just precautions he was used to taking.
Ringo took to the desk chair, while John sat on his bed, idly picking his guitar up that had been leant against it and plucking the strings (mainly to give his hands something to do while he spoke).
"Alright, 'm all ears, mate." Ringo prompted leaning his elbows on his knees as he struck up a cigarette of his own. John anxiously took a drag of his, free hand continuing to pluck at the strings of his guitar in his lap.
He was so endlessly glad he had someone like Ringo to confess his innermost feelings to and not he judged. Ringo didn't judge him for being queer - or, at least, partly queer - since he was queer himself, and it was the biggest relief ever. If he didn't have someone he could be honest with about those things, he didn't know what he'd do.
"Um.. well. You might've figured this out already, but.." He licked his lips nervously. It was hard to say it out loud. It seemed that if you did, it would solidify it completely in his mind, since if it was just thoughts, it felt as if you could just brush them aside and pass it off as some sort of phase. But when you say it out loud and tell someone, it just makes it all the more real and true ... and terrifying. "I think I'm uh- like, starring' to like Paul. In- y'know,"
"That way." Ringo finished. He nodded seriously, eyes somber as he twirled his smoke in hand. "'s okay. Ya know.." He slowly began to ease up, a grin overtaking his contemplative expression. "that's great! You guys seem to be mates now, and honestly I think he might like you too!"
John scoffed immediately. "No way."
"Don't start doubting straight away, John! Just.. hang out with him a bit more, see how it goes, yeah? Who knows what could happen? I think somethin' definitely good will come of it, at least." Ringo nudged his foot with his own, smiling at him warmly, eyes glinting encouragingly.
The auburn-haired boy sighed. "Yeah.. maybe. I just.. I don't think he could ever feel the same. He's as straight as could be. And you saw how he reacted when George was joking around before.. he's grossed out by it." He ran a hand through his hair, letting himself fall onto his back. "It's obvious. He'll never even look at me twice."
Ringo was silent for a few seconds. Eventually he spoke up, sounding serious again. "I understand. But.. he could just be afraid. Feelings like that are- scary, at first. Really scary. Everyone's been taught to hate it, y'know- it's not always possible to fully rid yerself of that deeply-set hate towards being queer, sometimes it can be all-consumin'. Just.. give it time." He patted John's shin for a moment. "You'll be okay, John. Paul's a good kid."
"Yeah, yeah." John nodded, though he still felt no optimism at all. Things like this never ended well for people like him. A sense of dread was still lurking at the back of his mind, terrified of the prospect of Paul finding out and being disgusted, afraid.. no longer being his friend, when they'd finally gotten to a good chapter in their relationship, the past of dislike far behind them. And of course he'd tell George, too, and he would stop being his friend as well. He'd be alone, except for Ringo. And people would know his secret. He shook his head quickly to clear himself of those increasingly intimidating thoughts.
"John." Ringo spoke up again, trying to get his attention. He lifted his head to meet his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"You'll be okay."
He stayed silent, the air heavy in the room as their gazes locked together; it had been about a minute before John let his head fall back onto the mattress with a sigh, opting not to answer.
What have you done, John?
What have you done?