He Came in Through The Bathroom Window (3/?)
Neither boy slept well that night, the anxiousness of what was to come was too eating away at them. As day broke, they were woken up by the sound of Mike stomping up and down the hallway, yelling at his hair because it was being "a fucking cunt mop", and then him stomping down the stairs, and slamming the door, but not without cursing his bootlace for snapping. They shared a slight giggle at Mike's expense; however as the silence set in again, the sobering feeling that something was going to happen set it.
"Paulie, no matter what happens down there, I'll always love you. We're mates, we're...more than that, and don't forget it." Spoke John, his voice was low. He wasn't used to be the shoulder to cry on, however John felt that given the situation, the walls were allowed to come down.
Paul just nodded and hugged John close. He appreciated the layers that John showed only to him; he loved the comfort John gave him. As he buried his face further into John's chest, he felt the tears fall from his eyes. His eyes were leaky faucets, with no valve to turn it off. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried this much. No even when he mother died had he shed a tear, his walls had been demolished by his fear. Every tear a brick tumbling down one by one. Finally after what felt like hours, they heard a voice.
"Paul, John, come to the kitchen. Now!" Jim hollered to the boys from the lower level. There was a slight slur in his words.
Paul had wondered if his father had been drinking. He whined at the thought. Paul slowly lifted his head up and brought his eyes to meet John's. They stared for a few minutes, silently sending words of love and solidarity. They'd get through this, they had to. After John finally broke eye contact, he placed a gentle kiss on Paul's lips. Then, they got out of bed, dressed and made their way down to the kitchen; awaiting the wrath of Jim McCartney.
The boys entered the kitchen in silence. John found himself wrapping a protective arm around Paul's waist. The two stood in the doorway waiting for Jim to begin. Paul noticed a number of beer bottles on the table. He was hit with the stench of the alcohol as his father leaned forward in his chair. It smelt as bad as the pub.
Jim took one look at the two teens in front of him and found his arousal from the night before returning full force. The booze had triggered the monster and there was no way he could control it.
"How long 'ave you two been fuckin'?" asked Jim. His accent thickened by the alcohol.
"Why d'you wanna know?" retorted John, he had a feeling that there was something wrong with Paul's father.
"Well, ye've been screwin' my son. I want t'know 'ow long ye've been lyin' to me, Disrespectin' me in my own 'ouse!"
"It started not long after Julia died dad. He was so lost, and I was the one who could relate, and then we just connected."
"I see. " The sentence was simple, and it terrified Paul to no end. The look in his father's eyes was different. He didn't look like his caring lovely father. No, the booze had changed him. It made him into devilish being.
Suddenly, Jim stood up and pulled the two boys from the doorway into the kitchen, pushing them into the counter. He then moved the chair and placed it in the doorway for him to sit.
"Show me."
John was confused; he didn't understand what Jim wanted.
"Show ye what?"
"This connection ye 'ave with my son!"
"You can't be serious dad, that's just grotty."
"Shut it! Ye want me to call the police eh? Want me to tell all ye little mates that yer both a pair of filthy good for nothing queers?! Ye want me to keep a tight lip, ye'll do as I ask and fuck. Right here, right now."
Jim was a monster but Paul knew what would happen if his father let the word out. Mimi would kill then before the boys got to them. They had no choice but to comply.
"Paulie, no matter what happens down there, I'll always love you. We're mates, we're...more than that, and don't forget it." Spoke John, his voice was low. He wasn't used to be the shoulder to cry on, however John felt that given the situation, the walls were allowed to come down.
Paul just nodded and hugged John close. He appreciated the layers that John showed only to him; he loved the comfort John gave him. As he buried his face further into John's chest, he felt the tears fall from his eyes. His eyes were leaky faucets, with no valve to turn it off. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried this much. No even when he mother died had he shed a tear, his walls had been demolished by his fear. Every tear a brick tumbling down one by one. Finally after what felt like hours, they heard a voice.
"Paul, John, come to the kitchen. Now!" Jim hollered to the boys from the lower level. There was a slight slur in his words.
Paul had wondered if his father had been drinking. He whined at the thought. Paul slowly lifted his head up and brought his eyes to meet John's. They stared for a few minutes, silently sending words of love and solidarity. They'd get through this, they had to. After John finally broke eye contact, he placed a gentle kiss on Paul's lips. Then, they got out of bed, dressed and made their way down to the kitchen; awaiting the wrath of Jim McCartney.
The boys entered the kitchen in silence. John found himself wrapping a protective arm around Paul's waist. The two stood in the doorway waiting for Jim to begin. Paul noticed a number of beer bottles on the table. He was hit with the stench of the alcohol as his father leaned forward in his chair. It smelt as bad as the pub.
Jim took one look at the two teens in front of him and found his arousal from the night before returning full force. The booze had triggered the monster and there was no way he could control it.
"How long 'ave you two been fuckin'?" asked Jim. His accent thickened by the alcohol.
"Why d'you wanna know?" retorted John, he had a feeling that there was something wrong with Paul's father.
"Well, ye've been screwin' my son. I want t'know 'ow long ye've been lyin' to me, Disrespectin' me in my own 'ouse!"
"It started not long after Julia died dad. He was so lost, and I was the one who could relate, and then we just connected."
"I see. " The sentence was simple, and it terrified Paul to no end. The look in his father's eyes was different. He didn't look like his caring lovely father. No, the booze had changed him. It made him into devilish being.
Suddenly, Jim stood up and pulled the two boys from the doorway into the kitchen, pushing them into the counter. He then moved the chair and placed it in the doorway for him to sit.
"Show me."
John was confused; he didn't understand what Jim wanted.
"Show ye what?"
"This connection ye 'ave with my son!"
"You can't be serious dad, that's just grotty."
"Shut it! Ye want me to call the police eh? Want me to tell all ye little mates that yer both a pair of filthy good for nothing queers?! Ye want me to keep a tight lip, ye'll do as I ask and fuck. Right here, right now."
Jim was a monster but Paul knew what would happen if his father let the word out. Mimi would kill then before the boys got to them. They had no choice but to comply.