John continually rubbed at his cold, pinked nose as he lay on his side wrapped in a warm dark green jumper and thick socks with black trousers on top of Ringo's neat bed. His maths workbook was laid open in front of him, along with a textbook next to it - that belonged to George - which they were sharing. But despite being surrounded by homework, he wasn't actually doing very much of it all.
He instead tapped his pencil against the blank paper of his book, gaze focussed on a much more appealing view in his mind.
Paul.
The younger boy was sitting at Ringo's desk, steadily working away, completely invested in whatever they were supposed to be writing; his cheeks were flushed with the cold, too, and he was sitting cross-legged on the chair (John had teased him earlier about his strange way of sitting, though he knew he was being hypocritical when he often sat upside down on sofas) while he wrote. He would sometimes itch his nose with his middle finger like he always did, or let out a soft sigh as he adjusted his position, or mention something to Ringo who was sitting beside him, and John could not stop thinking about how that was just so insanely adorable of him, and how insanely adorable Paul was in general.
It was a week into November at that point, and it was beginning to get colder and colder as winter was growing ever near. Frost edged all the cars and tipped the blades of grass, and often there would be mist clouding the streets in the early morning; and, of course, rain. It always seemed to be raining those days. In fact, it was right at that moment as the four friends were studying in Ringo's bedroom, hammering against the windows and the tiled roof. John liked the noise - it was calming while he worked. Although he wasn't doing much of that. He just couldn't get himself to focus. Not when Paul was just sitting there looking extremely kissable and attractive. But he refrained, not wanting to embarrass Paul by being affectionate around their friends, and also not wanting to put up with Ringo and George's constant teasing. It already continued with them just knowing about their relationship, but if they were affectionate around them they would never hear the end of it, probably.
"You've been starin' at him for the past half hour, John."
He blinked, exiting McCartney Land and returning to reality as his gaze fixed on George. He felt his cheeks flame madly at being caught staring like a lovesick idiot.
"No I haven't." He mumbled quickly, hiding his face from him and pretending to focus on work, adjusting his glasses rested on his slightly crooked nose bridge.
"You haven't even started workin' out the problems we're supposed to be doin'." His friend pointed a bony finger to the paper, and John could almost see the triumphant grin plastered over his stupid thin face.
"Shut up." He had nothing better to say than that, just rolling his eyes instead of indulging in the younger boy's antics.
George chuckled, whacking him on the back - he seemed about to say something, but they were interrupted by Paul.
"What are you two whisperin' about there?"
Their heads shot up in unison to look at him, and he let out a bemused laugh, gazing at them curiously.
"Damn, don't look so guilty, eh?"
"Oh.. it was nothin'." George shrugged innocently, though they all could see the tiny grin that he was trying his best to suppress. He actually started to whistle as he turned back to his work, continuing working out the math problem that he was doing. John noticed Ringo watching the entire interaction with amusement but slight confusion but eventually turned back to his own books to keep working.
John sighed, letting his head fall onto his empty book after taking off his glasses, twirling them in his fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't feel there was any point in him still trying to study - he couldn't get himself to just work out the bloody maths problems. Why do they have to use their time outside of school to do more school work? Isn't the evenings and weekends supposed to be for things that weren't about school? He didn't understand the logic.
As he deliberated, something light hit him on the top of the head, pulling him from his thoughts and causing him to lift his head. His vision was blurry, of course, since he wasn't wearing his glasses and he put them back on, blinking as the world came back to focus.
He was met with the sight of Paul looking at him with a hint of a smile, tilting his head slightly as if to ask "what's up?"
He looked down to see it was a crumpled piece of paper that the raven-haired boy had thrown at him.
He turned back to Paul and answered with a roll of his eyes, making a slashing motion across his neck and pointing to his workbooks with a sigh.
The younger boy chuckled at what he meant, pointing his fingers to his head in a gun motion and making a "doosh!" noise. John giggled as he rested his chin on his hand, thinking for the thousandth time that Paul was just so fucking cute.
"Get a room, you two!" George exclaimed out of nowhere, and they all dissolved into laughter at that.
"Whatever." The raven-haired boy rolled his eyes.
"Macca? Can you help me with me notes? I'm really shit at algebra." John grinned sheepishly, heart leaping with joy when he eagerly got to his feet and swapped places with George. He decided to take a bit of a risk and shuffled closer until their sides were touching, and he couldn't help but grin even wider when Paul responded with a shy smile.
"Okay, so- we're mainly just revisiting how to solve x problems.."
When they went back to school that next week, the group was in relatively high spirits. It was a nippy, frigid day as usual, although there was no rain; ivory white clouds blanketed the sky low to the ground, shrouding the buildings in the distance in mist. Everyone's clothes had begun to change up a bit - more scarves and gloves were seen, bigger coats, and usually an umbrella that most people took in case. You never knew in Liverpool. John continually rubbed his hands together, also pulling the sleeves of his jumper over them in order to warm them up. His fingertips had gone a rosy pink.
Paul had lent him his scarf that morning as the four friends continued their usual routine of walking to school together, and the ebony-haired boy was wearing a thick dark coat to combat the harsh weather. His nose and cheeks has flushed pink like the rest of theirs had, too, and John was tempted again to kiss him. He would manage to keep his patience, though, until they'd have a moment to themselves. George was chattering to Ringo about something, and John could not help but find the looks that they sent each other sweet, albeit frustrating since they still hadn't done anything about their obviously mutual feelings. Though he was glad that everyone seemed in a good mood that Monday morning.
But it seemed that things wouldn't be going their way for much longer.
When they entered the school building and made their way through the hallways to their lockers, they were greeted with the sight of a certain group of people that he never wanted to see again standing right in front of John's locker. They really had it out for them ever since John left the group, didn't they? It wasn't like they weren't picking on Paul or George already before all that.
"Shit, here comes trouble." Ringo groaned, pinching his forehead with a grimace.
Before the other three could say anything in response, Kevin - always the ringleader - spotted them and began sauntering his way over, shit-eating smirk plastered all over his stupid face. John noticed that Stu was among the group, looking distressed and slightly pissed off.
"Well well, if it isn't the hot new couple!" He sneered as he shoved both Paul and John at the same time, causing them to stumble slightly before catching their footing. There was such venom laced in his words that it sent an ugly, horrible feeling of fear surging in the depths of his chest.
"The fuck you want, mate?" John managed to keep the fear from his voice, and he glared down the older boy from myopic eyes.
"Piss off and find somethin' actually worthwhile to do!" George snapped.
"Shut up, spindly." Kevin hissed, and George promptly did so, standing next to Ringo with anger smouldering in his gaze.
"Little birdie heard you two in the bathroom." Kevin turned back to John and Paul, corner of his lip twitching in disgust. Oh no. John's heart picked up speed, feeling every hair on his arm stand up in horror. He can't be serious.
"Bullshit! There was nothin' to hear." Paul spat, though he could see the raw dread reflected in his wide eyes. "Yer talkin' out yer arse, there."
"Ask him, then." The dark-haired boy jabbed a thumb to someone behind him in the sniggering group of boys. They followed the direction to spot who he was talking about; John's breath caught in his throat as he stared in shock. Why? Why.. was he lying? How could he? Did he actually?-
"Stuart?" Paul gaped.
"What?" Stu glanced at them. He looked genuinely bewildered, and his brows furrowed as he took a few steps forward to reach them. "No I didn't-"
"Now everyone knows about you two." Kevin turned back to them with his arms crossed over his chest. John glanced around; there were people gathered, watching the scene with tens of curious eyes peering at him. Peering into his head, seeing all his thoughts and his desires. Seeing what he'd done.
"What do you mean? You don't know shit! There's nothin' to know!" Paul's voice grew louder in volume, too loud to be believable, but John could barely pay any attention to him anymore. All he had were eyes for Stuart. He wanted so badly - so badly - not to believe Kevin's words. Stu would never do that to him. They were close, once. Why would he do something so horrible like that? Why the hell should he believe him, anyway? Kevin always liked to make up rumours and start shit with no reason for it. There wasn't any way that any of them had figured out about him and Paul's relationship.
"He's sayin' bullshit, John. I don't even know what he's talkin' about-" Stuart rushed over to him, eyes reflecting dismay as he gripped onto his friend's shoulder - but John couldn't bear to be near him for even one more second. He didn't know what to think at all.
"Piss off." His voice was low, strangely quiet - and with that, he stormed away. He could barely see where he was going; he was just walking blindly ahead, fists clenched at his side as he stared blankly at the ground. He could hear footsteps behind him, and he figured in the back of his mind that his friends were following after him, but he didn't pay any attention. Kevin sounded so sure about them - but he could see in Stuart's eyes the actual confusion. He seemed so genuine with his words "I don't even know what he's talking about". Was he seriously telling the truth? What reason did he have to tell those people, anyway? Did he have something against him? Was he jealous of him and Paul's relationship? That was stupid. Stuart didn't feel like that about him anymore, neither did John for him.
"What do we do? Oh my god, what do we do?" Paul sounded almost panicked, and John surfaced to reality and watched as the younger boy paced frantically back and forth in the school parking lot, George and Ringo trying to calm him down.
"Paul, please-" The lanky boy began, looking worried, but he was dismissed.
"I can't have anyone knowin'. Me da' will find out- I can't do this." He kept running a hand through his hair, making eye contact with John to emphasise his point.
"He has no fucking proof!"
"Yes he does!" Paul retaliated, sudden indignation sparking in his round eyes as he glared him down. It was such a similar sight to the first weeks of school, when their relationship was strained and based on despising each other. "Obviously Stuart heard us and ratted us out!"
"He'd never rat us out!" He growled in frustration. "He's one of me closest friends."
"Well, maybe you don't know him as well as you thought you did." His voice dropped a few octaves. The boys glared each other down, only inches away and staying silent as if trying to have a conversation with just one look. But Paul's eyes darted away and focussed on something behind John in the distance. His lip curled in anger, looking even more enraged, and John spun around on his heel to see what he was looking at. He let out a sigh when he saw who it was, jogging over to them with a pained look on his face.
Paul turned around and walked away towards where their friends were hanging back in order not to get involved, obviously not going to talk to Stuart, but John stayed where he was.
"Mate, I swear I never said anythin'." His friend began, gazing at him with such pleading tones that John softened immediately. "I know you might think to believe Kevin, but-"
He shook his head. "How can I be sure? How do they know about us?"
Stuart blinked. "He was just talkin' out of his arse. He just wanted to stir shit up... are you guys actually?-" He furrowed his brows in confusion, gesturing between him and Paul before John cut him off again.
"None of yer business." He crossed his arms. "Just.. leave, okay, Stu? We don't need this right now." Instead of waiting for a response, he strode away. It seemed problems would just continue to fucking arise even after everything seemed to be finally okay. Why couldn't he just be left alone for once? Why does it seem problems always follow him no matter what he does?
"Have a chat with good ol' Stu?" Paul taunted vindictively when he came up to them. John let out a huff and clenched his teeth.
"Piss off. He was too genuine- I don't think he snitched. He said Kevin and the others don't even know if anythin' happened, they just wanted to start shit."
"Do you really believe that?" Paul rolled his eyes, kicking at a nearby rock.
"Guys, please can we just calm down?" Ringo got to his feet. Him and George were sitting on the curb, listening to them argue with worry. "Try not to let this become a bigger thing than it really is."
"It is a fucking big thing, Ringo!" Paul bellowed. "Jesus, they could do anythin'!'
"They don't have any proof!" John yelled in fury.
"Fuck off!" Paul spun around, and there was a crack that echoed through the parking lot; pain spread like hot wax across his face, and he felt something warm spill across his lips as he stumbled to the ground, palms skidding on the pavement. He felt hands clutching at his shoulders, and heard Paul's pleading apologies in his ear, but all he could stare at was the blood slowly pooling in his shaky hand that he held above his nose. He clenched his teeth, letting out a strained noise as pain throbbed through his face.
"I'm sorry, shit, I'm so sorry John-"
"John! Are you okay?" He heard George's voice too.
"Why the hell did you do that?!" Ringo got to his feet in the corner of his eye, sounding distressed as he confronted Paul.
"I'm sorry! I was so scared, I just snapped-"
All John could think as he slowly scrambled to his feet was; how many fucking times has my nose gotten broken within the past few weeks already? He numbly shook out a cigarette from the packet in his pocket, the foil glinting in the weak light of the sun that was determined to shine through the haze of clouds above - it was stained already from his blood-covered hands he put it to his bloodied lips, lighting it up as casually as possible with a broken, streaming nose.
"The hell are you doing, John?" George came up to him, looking stressed but bewildered.
"Havin' a smoke." He grumbled. With that, he spun on his heel, relishing the sting of hot smoke invading his lungs as he began to walk away.
"Where are you going?" He heard Paul plead, jogging to catch up with him; he spun around and glared down at him, not paying one bit of attention to the way his blood was soaking the top of his jumper with a slowly spreading dark path.
"Home!" He spat. Paul froze in his spot, gazing at him with misery in those beautiful round eyes that haunted his every waking thought. He couldn't stand to look at him anymore. Everything had gone so wrong in the span of ten minutes. Just normal in the life of John Lennon.
He turned around and made for home. He heard Paul try to pursue him in the background, but then there was shuffling and Ringo answered with "let him go, Paul. Let him go.", his voice echoing strangely in the muffled silence that had fallen over the parking lot.