15 ;; rain

                                    

                                          









"Of course it's bloody pourin'.."
The almond-eyed boy peered out the front door, slumping in irritation when he spotted the rain spewing from above and flooding the gutters; the clouds were clustered close together with dark underbellies, and there was a thin, forking strip of thunder that dissolved in the blink of an eye, accompanied with a distant roar of thunder that rolled across the city. Letting out a sigh, John left the door slightly ajar as he emerged back into the hallway to search for an umbrella; eventually he spotted the one he had stolen weeks ago on his date with Cynthia, tucking it under his arm as he adjusted his school bag slung over his shoulder. 
                          
"See you tonight, John!" Mimi called from the kitchen before there was a rustle - as she most likely folded the newspaper she had been reading when John came down from his room.
                          
"Yeah, bye," he called back as he shut the front door after himself. Untucking the umbrella from under his arm, he opened it up and began to make his way out the front garden and down the street, pace quick and swift in order to spend less time in the storm. The sodden footpath below him squelched under his shoes as he went, humming a tune to himself. "It's only love, and that is all.. why should I feel the way that I do.." 
                          
He'd begun to work on a song he'd had inspiration for a day or two prior; it was more melancholic than the usual songs he would come up with, but one night he'd been lying awake, guitar in hand, plucking uselessly at the strings - and the tune had begun to form. He didn't know quite why, but it felt more personal than the others.
His thoughts wandered to Paul again for a moment, thinking about their last interaction. Are we really becoming friends? After everything that's happened between us?

                          
He lifted his head and scanned his surroundings when he had reached the meet-up spot where him and Ringo would usually meet; he eventually spotted him, George and Paul standing under a shop roof to hide from the rain. Only Paul seemed to be disgruntled, George and Ringo just looking relaxed as they chattered away. He jogged up to them.
                          
"Aye, lads. Let's go, eh?" He jerked his head in the direction of the street; George and Ringo greeted him enthusiastically except Paul, who was staring at the ground, refusing to look at him. "You guys want to come under the umbrella or are ya 'right?"
                          
"My ma' took the only one we have." Ringo sighed.
                          
"Let's just run, then." George waved John off, emerging from under the roof and taking off - Ringo scrambled after him, the two yelling something incomprehensible and laughing as they sped ahead. Paul stepped forward for a second, gazing up at the sky uncertainly. He was still refusing to look at John.
                          
"You gonna go after them or do you want the umbrella?" He held it out a little in invitation, gazing at the younger with a raised brow.
                          
"I'm fine." The boy crossed his arms, striding out into the rain with hunched shoulders. John stood there for a second, about to catch up, when Paul froze and swung around, still glaring at the ground as he came to stand under it next to him. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, nose washed pink, his ebony locks standing out against his pallid skin. He was wearing a dull grey school jumper over his uniform along with his blazer, and a thick black scarf that he tucked his chin into. "Okay, yes please." His voice was barely above a whisper. John stared for a moment, terribly amused at what happened in a span of seconds before he just shook his head, the two beginning to jog down the footpath to catch up with their friends (George and Ringo had almost made it to the corner by then).
                          
"C'mon, run faster, wouldja?" The auburn-haired ushered the other on, beginning to regret his invitation - he couldn't stop thinking about the way Paul's shoulder brushed his, leaving his skin burning and tingling in a bizarre way. Jesus, I'm really in it now, aren't I? He thought with an anxious chew of his lip. The rain continued to hammer down, pattering loudly against the thin plastic of the umbrella, occasionally sloshing onto his shoulder and rolling down his arm to the ground.