Angst...
This just popped into my head without warning. I'm a sucker for baby!J&P.
"It was just somethin' we all did, y'know?"
Paul stood silent, lost within himself. The humiliation he felt was unbearable. Letting it show now would finish him. He cursed himself silently, for thinking that John could possibly have felt anything for him. He defocused his eyes, in order to look at John. He had to stay strong, for just a little while longer. He could go home and fall apart later.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that it was something else for you. If I had..." John trailed off, looking into Paul's eyes, seeing nothing.
" John, don't. Just leave it."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Excuse me?" Paul asked blandly, missing the hint of anxiety in the question.
"You gonna quit the band?"
"That what you want?" There was still no hint of emotion in Paul's voice.
"No."
"Right. I know what you think of Epstein. I'm not gonna put meself through that, John."
"You really think I'd..." he faltered, knowing how mean he could get, but this was Paul. He'd never hurt Paul, knew his heart was fragile. "This is no one's business but ours, Paul. I wouldn't. You have to know that."
Right then, the only thing Paul knew was that he had to get away from John. Before he broke apart and made everything so much worse.
"I gotta go."
"We're playing tonight. You'll be there, won't you?"
"Yeah. See ya later." he answered hurriedly, all but running away.
John watched him go, a feeling of dread creeping over him like nothing he'd ever felt before. But what could he have done? He wasn't in love with Paul, right? He had a girlfriend, and chased skirt whenever he could. So why was he now feeling like he'd just ruined something sacred? Queers loved each other. They also did the same things he and Paul had done, didn't they? John never stopped to think about it that way before, and now that he had, the guilt began to eat at him. Why wouldn't Paul think John loved him like that? How many times had he shown up at Paul's, at ungodly hours, just because he was randy? The latest memory flashed through his mind, of him drunk, waiting outside Paul's house for him to get home. When he did, John grabbed him roughly, dragging him around the back, where no one could see. He parted Paul's legs with his right knee, fitting their bodies together snugly, grinding himself up against Paul, kissing him, Holy fuck! I kissed him!
"What have I done?" he asked the darkening sky.
"It was just somethin' we all did, y'know?"
Paul stood silent, lost within himself. The humiliation he felt was unbearable. Letting it show now would finish him. He cursed himself silently, for thinking that John could possibly have felt anything for him. He defocused his eyes, in order to look at John. He had to stay strong, for just a little while longer. He could go home and fall apart later.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that it was something else for you. If I had..." John trailed off, looking into Paul's eyes, seeing nothing.
" John, don't. Just leave it."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Excuse me?" Paul asked blandly, missing the hint of anxiety in the question.
"You gonna quit the band?"
"That what you want?" There was still no hint of emotion in Paul's voice.
"No."
"Right. I know what you think of Epstein. I'm not gonna put meself through that, John."
"You really think I'd..." he faltered, knowing how mean he could get, but this was Paul. He'd never hurt Paul, knew his heart was fragile. "This is no one's business but ours, Paul. I wouldn't. You have to know that."
Right then, the only thing Paul knew was that he had to get away from John. Before he broke apart and made everything so much worse.
"I gotta go."
"We're playing tonight. You'll be there, won't you?"
"Yeah. See ya later." he answered hurriedly, all but running away.
John watched him go, a feeling of dread creeping over him like nothing he'd ever felt before. But what could he have done? He wasn't in love with Paul, right? He had a girlfriend, and chased skirt whenever he could. So why was he now feeling like he'd just ruined something sacred? Queers loved each other. They also did the same things he and Paul had done, didn't they? John never stopped to think about it that way before, and now that he had, the guilt began to eat at him. Why wouldn't Paul think John loved him like that? How many times had he shown up at Paul's, at ungodly hours, just because he was randy? The latest memory flashed through his mind, of him drunk, waiting outside Paul's house for him to get home. When he did, John grabbed him roughly, dragging him around the back, where no one could see. He parted Paul's legs with his right knee, fitting their bodies together snugly, grinding himself up against Paul, kissing him, Holy fuck! I kissed him!
"What have I done?" he asked the darkening sky.