Something Like Love

Chapter Thirteen

John was awoken by the sound of shuffling in the room and the door softly closing. 'Probably Mimi.' He turned over thinking he would be greeted by a warm body pressed against his. Sadly he was mistaken; Paul wasn't there.

He opened one eye and craned his neck, scanning the room for the younger boy. A few of the drawers in his bureau were open, clothes crumpled up in a pile next to it.

John heard the shower in the bathroom across the hall start. He let his head fall back onto the pillow, that smelled faintly of Paul; vanilla and lavender, and drifted slowly back to sleep.

He woke up, again, by someone sitting on the bed. It only felt like one minute ago Paul was in the shower, but it had been half an hour. Paul was putting on a black pair of socks, trying not to disturb John. But he was ignorant of the fact that John was already awake.

John sat up and rested his chin on Paul's shoulder, making him jump.

"Christ's sake, John!"

"Where are you going?" John asked groggily. He snaked his arms around Paul's torso, taking in his warmth.

"Well nowhere, yet. But 'M goin' home later, and you're coming with me," Paul stated, making his way over to the mirror to brush his hair. John sat there, utterly confused. Didn't Paul's dad hate him?

"But yer da' hates me."

"Oh well. That's his problem," Paul said shrugging. John was still confused, but he shrugged it off, too tired to care at the moment. What time was it anyway?

He searched for the clock, seeing that it read 7:03, way too early to be up. For John, that is.

"How's yer head?" John asked. Paul just simply shrugged, finishing up with his hair. He went over and sat on the bed again, grabbing a book.

"You can go back to bed y'know," he told John. He was sitting on the bed, his legs crossed, looking exhausted.

He fell backwards onto the bed, taking Paul along with him. Paul was wearing his clothes, he noticed, a black T-shirt and jeans. They were big on him, of course, but he stilled looked cute.

"Are you sure you're alright?" John asked with his face buried in Paul's hair.

"I'm fine." He turned over and pecked John on the lips, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck. "You still stink of beer."

"Only for you, darling," John teased.

"And your girlfriend." Paul sat up abruptly, remembering Cynthia.

"What?" John sat up, too, extremely baffled. Paul was acting very strange. He wants John to come over even though his dad hates him, and apparently he has a girlfriend now. 'Maybe it's because of his head?'

"Paul, I said I didn't like her that way."

"Yeh, I know what you said, but actions speak louder than words and I saw you two snogging in the back of the gym." John took a moment to try and remember kissing that blond bird. His memories were blurry because of the alcohol. Alcohol. Dancing. Kissing.

"Shit, Macca, i was drunk."

"Yeah, and where did you get the beer from?" Paul questioned. John knew that Paul was going to get mad at his answer, but there was no use lying to him now.

"I snuck it in."

"Fucking hell, John! Why?!" Paul cried.

"I dunno...I'm sorry, Paulie," John begged, giving his best puppy dog eyes and batting his eyelashes. Paul sighed, trying to stifle a smile. Why was it so hard to stay mad at him?