Warnings: slash, drugs, sex, angst
Disclaimer: I do not own Hollyoaks, or any of the characters
Spoilers: up to the five a side football and the apology after
Ans: I know John Paul's only 17, but I didn't realise when I wrote this, so am pretending he has an early birthday. Also, I suck at updating.
A week later, Alex gets busted on a night out at the Loft for carrying cocaine. Greg and John Paul hide in the toilets taking whatever they have on them, drunk, high and barely able to stand up, until they think the coast is clear again.
They stumble out, Greg practically holding John Paul up, and then Greg kisses him and goes off to the bar. John Paul half trips, turns around and finds Craig Dean watching him with narrowed eyes from across the room.
Huh. He didn't even realise Craig was here. He debates whether or not to go over, but then Craig starts to walk towards him, so he just waits.
"You alright?" Craig asks.
John Paul nods, unable to help the smile which crawls across his face. Craig smells good.
"I am fine!" he proclaims happily.
Craig frowns.
"You sure? Your eyes look a bit…you look kind of weird."
John Paul only laughs. Truthfully, he's not entirely sure how many Es Greg's given him tonight. He only knows it's made him feel sky high and problem free.
"John Paul." Craig looks awkward. "Maybe you should sit down. I really want to talk to you."
"Hey! Are you following me?" John Paul asks. Why else would Craig be here? Was he with someone?
Craig sighs.
"No, I'm not following you. God, you're completely pissed, aren't you?"
"Craig," John Paul murmurs. "Ah, Craig. You've fucked me up mate. Royally. Biiiig time."
A pained expression flits across Craig's face.
"Don't say that."
"But it's true," John Paul says as Craig steers him to a free seat and pushes him into it. "It's true. Isn't that funny?"
"Funny?" Craig repeats, staring at him in disbelief. "What the hell, John Paul? How is any of this funny?"
John Paul shoves ineffectually at Craig.
"Don't go off the deep end, mate. I was only saying."
"I don't even recognise you anymore John Paul. It's like you're a different person."
"And whose fault is that, hey?" John Paul snaps, Craig's words finally breaking through his bubble of happiness. "Whose fucking fault is that?" Why the hell is Craig here anyway? He shakes his head in disgust. "Why don't you go and find Sarah and leave me the hell alone?"
"John Paul," Craig says. "Sarah and I broke up last month."
Broke up? Since when. God, what is going on?
"I'm confused," he says, raising a hand to his head. "You and Sarah…"
"It wasn't working. After everything that happened, we just couldn't…I couldn't…" He trails off, looking a bit lost.
"But I saw her, the other day, in school," John Paul slurs.
"She was worried about you. Both her and Hannah."
"Oh God, Hannah." He still can't think of Hannah without that blinding, burning guilt. "She's so skinny," he says.
"What?" Craig asks.
"She's too thin," he repeats. He can see her, standing just down the hallway, pretending not to be waiting for them, her clothes hanging off her frame, the sharp edge of a collarbone visible under her t-shirt.
"John Paul," Craig sighs impatiently. "This isn't about Hannah, okay?"
"Of course it's about Hannah! Whatever you did to me, however much you hurt me, I hurt her a hundred times worse! I slept with her, Craig! I-" He breaks off, because thinking about sleeping with Hannah, it makes him feel weird, not right. It isn't fair.
"I know," Craig says softly. "I know."
He puts a comforting hand on John Paul's shoulder, and John Paul just wants to break down, right there in the middle of the Loft.
"Everything's just so shit," he murmurs.
"I know," Craig says again.
"You know what the worst part is?" John Paul asks blearily. "After everything that's happened, after everything we've both done, I'm still in love with you." He laughs bleakly. "I suppose that's irony, or whatever."
"John Paul," Craig says, something in his tone making John Paul look up at him. Craig is staring at him so intently. He makes John Paul feel as if his veins are on fire.
He's half moving towards Craig when he realises that his veins actually are on fire, and oh God, that fucking hurts.
"John Paul?" Craig asks.
John Paul tries to move, and finds himself face up on the floor, the lights on the ceiling blinding him, blazing stars in his vision.
"John Paul!" Craig cries desperately, face appearing, blurred in his vision. "John Paul! Shit!"
"What the hell have you done? Get off him!"
Craig is yanked away from him, and Greg appears in his eye line, eyes frantic as he pats John Paul's face.
"JP! Come on, babe. You're fine, you're okay."
"He needs an ambulance!" Craig is yelling, and John Paul struggles to move, to sit up. He doesn't need an ambulance. He's fine.
He feels Greg's arm under him, helping him to sit, and baulks as a powerful wave of nausea flows over him.
"I'm going to-"
He doesn't even finish the sentence before he throws up onto the floor, his stomach heaving as he retches desperately.
"That's it," Craig snaps. "Call a fucking ambulance!"
"No!" Greg yells back. "You can't! Someone just get him some water!"
"Look at him! He needs help!"
"He'll be fine," Greg says. "He's just having a reaction."
John Paul watches, distantly, as Craig frowns in confusion, then suddenly goes very still.
"A reaction to what?" he asks, and John Paul can hear the barely restrained fury in his voice. Craig knows.
There's a brief, very tense pause.
"I gave him some speed," Greg admits, and John Paul feels his head spin even more. Speed? That wasn't right. He hadn't asked for any speed.
"You did what?" Craig yells. "You gave him fucking drugs?"
"He asked for it, alright?' Greg yells back, and John Paul feels as if something very important is slipping from his grasp. "He loves them, can't get enough."
"What?" Craig snaps, but John Paul can see the confusion, the uncertainty in his eyes.
"JP's been taking ecstasy for weeks."
John Paul tries to shake his head. It's only been one week. Hasn't it?
"You're lying." Craig's eyes dart to John Paul, then back to Greg. "You're lying! John Paul wouldn't-"
"Oh believe me he would," Greg says. His arm, still around John Paul's back, tightens. "He fucking loves it. Loves to take a pill and then let me take him home and fuck him all night."
"Shut up," John Paul says, finally finding his voice. He can't bear the look on Craig's face. "I'm fine. I just need to go home and sleep it off." The fire's receding now. He can breathe again.
"John Paul." Craig's eyes are desperate. "Tell me he's lying. You wouldn't."
John Paul looks away. He can't.
"I have to go home."
"I'll walk you," Greg says, helping him to stand.
John Paul pushes him away.
"I don't need your help."
"JP-"
"You gave me speed Greg? What the fuck?"
"I thought you'd like it."
John Paul shakes his head, disgusted, tired.
"Whatever."
He drinks the water someone brings him, and it helps to clear his head slightly. He's stumbling down the stairs, trying to bring each step into focus, when he feels a hand on his arm and knows, without even looking, that it's Craig.
"Don't," he says, before Craig can even say anything. He doesn't need to hear what a mess he's made of everything right now.
"Drugs?" Craig asks anyway, and John Paul rolls his eyes then regrets it when it makes his brain hurt.
"Not now, yeah?"
Craig tightens his grip on John Paul's arm.
"You need help getting home," he says firmly. John Paul can't be bothered to protest.
They walk back to John Paul's in silence, and it's only halfway there that John Paul realises Craig's still holding onto his arm. He doesn't say anything. If this is the last time Craig is ever going to go near him, he wants to be able to remember the feel of his hand, even if that's all he remembers.
He stops outside the door.
"I can't go in there," he says.
He hears Craig let out his breath in a woosh.
"You can stay at mine," he says.
John Paul frowns.
"Is that a good idea?"
"Well, you can't go home and you probably shouldn't be alone in case you, you know, start fitting or choking or something."
John Paul isn't sure exactly how to respond to that. It almost sounds like Craig cares.
"Okay," he says eventually.
Craig takes him back to the Dog and they go quietly upstairs to his room, where Craig puts out a sleeping bag and pillow on the floor.
They don't say much as they get into bed, Craig making sure John Paul has a glass of water nearby, and John Paul lies there in the dark, listening to Craig's breathing in the silence.
"John Paul?" Craig asks softly, after a little while. "You awake?"
John Paul is awake, but he can't talk to Craig anymore tonight. He can't talk about the drugs and Greg and all the shit. He can't.
He hears Craig sigh, quietly.
"I wish I could stay this stuff to you when you can actually hear me," he murmurs. "It's such a mess, isn't it? Everything."
John Paul tries to breathe evenly.
"What am I going to do?" he whispers. "God, you still…you just make me feel…" He doesn't finish, and John Paul waits, but nothing else comes, and eventually he hears Craig's breathing even out into sleep.
It takes him a long time to follow.
The next day he feels like shit, pure and simple.
He wakes up earlier than he should, and drinks the glass of water by his head in three desperate gulps.
God, he could kill Greg.
He manages to roll to his knees, and then uses Craig's desk to pull himself to his feet. Craig is still asleep, and John Paul stares at him for a moment, before quickly picking up his shoes and slipping out of the door, glad that Craig hadn't insisted he get undressed last night.
He makes his way home, and opens the door quietly, hoping he's too early for any of his family to be up.
His mum's sitting at the kitchen table.
"A phone call," she says softly. "One phone call is all it would take to tell me that you're not lying in a ditch somewhere."
John Paul doesn't say anything, but his stomach clenches guiltily.
"What did I do to deserve this, eh?" his mum asks. "I can't cope with this anymore John Paul! Most of the time I have no idea where you are, if you've even got a place to stay! And don't get me started on that boyfriend of yours."
John Paul doesn't leap to Greg's defence, as he has done so many times before. He still can't believe what happened last night.
Maybe his mum notices, because she turns and looks at him.
"Where did you go?"
John Paul shrugs, and even that hurts.
"To the Loft."
"You look awful. I'm sure you drunk yourself into oblivion."
He shrugs again. He'd rather she think he was an alcoholic than a druggie.
She shakes her head. She looks sad. Defeated.
"I just don't know what to do anymore. I've tried shouting at you, grounding you. I've tried reasoning with you, asking you. It's like you just don't care anymore."
"Maybe I don't," he says.
He goes upstairs, just wanting to fall into bed and pretend last night never happened, and groans when he sees Jacqui sitting in his room. He really doesn't need this right now.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asks tetchily.
"Shut up," Jacqui snaps. He blinks at her apparent fury. "This stops right now, John Paul, do you hear me?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he mutters, toeing off his shoes. Why won't she just leave?
"You're killing mum, do you know that? Stop being so fucking selfish! I know you have problems, but guess what sunshine? They're not going away, no matter how hard you try to drown yourself in drink and God knows what else."
He freezes momentarily. Does she know about the drugs?
"You need to pull yourself together, and fast, because if you don't, when you finally get out of your pity party, you might just find you don't have anyone left."
She slams the door behind her, and John Paul winces as the sound reverberates around his head.
He doesn't think she knows about the drugs. She would have strung him up on the roof by now if she did.
He gets into bed, feeling sick and tired and a mess.
Would it never end?
He's not sure how long he sleeps, but is awoken by a gentle knock on the door. A moment later Carmel sticks her head round, giving him a look of sympathy that he knows he doesn't deserve.
"There's someone here to see you," she says, and his stomach leaps, as he immediately thinks Craig.
It's Greg, however, who comes into his room, looking shifty and apologetic.
John Paul sighs and flops back down under his covers.
"What do you want?"
"To apologise," Greg says, sounding, at least, contrite. "I was a shit last night, JP. I shouldn't have given you speed without telling you what it was."
"Do you want to say that any louder?" John Paul asks. "I don't think all my sisters heard it."
"Look, I'm trying to apologise here," Greg says, sounding annoyed.
John Paul pushes the covers aside with a scowl, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side. He's still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.
"I don't want your apology, okay?"
Greg sighs.
"Babe-"
"And that's another thing. I hate it when you call me babe. I'm not a fucking animal."
Greg looks taken aback.
"I never said you were, JP. What's wrong?"
John Paul shakes his head.
"Everything," he says. "Every fucking thing."
"Tell me," Greg says. "I can help you."
And even though Greg's help is that last thing John Paul wants, he has to admit that Greg is good at playing the part. At being concerned and charming and all the things that made John Paul fall for him in the first place.
"Don't you get it?" he asks. "You are the problem."
Greg frowns, uncomprehending, then his gaze hardens.
"Is this about that Craig kid?"
"No," John Paul says quickly, even though it is about Craig, because it's always about Craig.
"Then last night?" Greg asks. "Because I said I was-"
"It's not about last night. Well it is, but not just that." John Paul sighs. "Look, I just don't like who I'm becoming right now. And a big part of that is you. Going out all night, skiving off school, taking drugs. It's just not me."
Greg's quiet for a long moment.
"I like you, JP. I like you a lot. Don't just get scared off by a bad reaction. It happens to everyone."
"You're not listening to me!" John Paul says, exasperated. "It's not just about the speed, although yeah, that is an issue. I just don't want to do this anymore."
"It is about Craig, isn't it?"
John Paul stares at him. Is he being deliberately stupid?
"No, Greg. It's not about bloody Craig."
"Yeah, then where were you last night?"
What?
"Excuse me?"
"Where were you last night," Greg repeats. "Because when I came in, your mum had a go about not letting you phone to tell her where you were all night. And I know as sure as hell that you weren't with me. So where were you?"
John Paul glares at the carpet.
"I was in a state. I could barely walk. Craig was helping me."
"Yeah, and I know what sort of help you'd like from him."
John Paul looks up, eyes burning.
"Shut up."
"I should have realised, the first time I met you, that no one could ever live up to your precious Craig."
"Shut up," he says again. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Of course I do," Greg replies, a hint of scorn in his tone. "You poured your little heart out to me, remember? I now about every tiny, fucked up detail."
John Paul stares.
"Why are you being like this?"
"Because you need to get real! The kid is straight, JP. He's never going to feel the same way."
"I thought I was too, until I met him!"
He knows he sounds desperate, but he can't help it. He loves Craig. And he can't just let that go, no matter how hard he's tried. He can't.
Greg shakes his head.
"You're just going to end up getting hurt."
"I'm already hurt," he says, and realises, in that moment, just how true it is. He feels as if he's been broken apart. And it fucking hurts.
"JP," Greg sighs softly. "I just want you to be happy."
Greg moves towards him, cupping John Paul's face in his hands, and John Paul lets him, lets Greg kiss him, because he may not love Greg, but it feels so good. Just to be touched.
They're lying on the bed, John Paul underneath, Greg's hands somewhere under his t-shirt, when there's a knock at the door and Craig walks in.
Everyone freezes, and Craig's eyes are locked on the bed. John Paul feels a hot, unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach.
"I don't believe this," Craig says eventually, and John Paul shoves Greg off him, pulling his t-shirt back down.
"Have you forgotten what he did to you last night?" Craig demands, and John Paul shrinks from his anger, whilst a part of him is equally angry that Craig suddenly feels he can tell John Paul what to do.
"I remember," he says, standing up, trying not to show how flustered he feels.
"And you just forgive him like that? What's wrong with you?"
"Hey," Greg says, coming to stand by John Paul's side. "Don't talk to him like that."
Craig glares at him.
"Don't you dare speak to me." He switches his attention back to John Paul, and as their eyes connect, underneath the anger, John Paul catches a glimmer of something else. Hurt?
"John Paul, he gave you drugs."
John Paul sighs. He really doesn't want to do this now.
"I know Craig, okay? I know. But Greg was telling the truth last night. I have been taking E."
He knows Craig found out at the Loft, but John Paul supposes it didn't really sink in, because now Craig looks angry and ashen and disappointed, and his eyes seem to cut John Paul in half.
"You fucking idiot," he snaps.
Greg steps forward.
"That's enough," he says, voice dangerously low. "Do not talk to him like that."
"You, piss off. This is between me and him," Craig says, jerking his head at John Paul.
"No," Greg says. "It's not just you and him. I'm in the picture now."
"You're the bloody problem!"
"You don't get to tell him what to do anymore. You forfeited that right when you used him as your punching bag!"
"Stop!" John Paul yells. His head hurts too much for this. "Craig…" Craig looks so expectant. Like he expects John Paul to have an explanation for why he's fucked up so royally. As if he expects it to makes sense. "...just go, okay?"
Craig gapes at him for a moment.
"John Paul-"
"Go!" he says again, more forcefully, and Craig shoots Greg a poisonous look before leaving. John Paul hears him stamp down the stairs and slam the front door.
"You did the right thing," Greg says. "He's a jumped up little shit who only cares about himself."
"I want you to leave too," John Paul says.
"…what?"
"I want you to leave, Greg. For good. I don't want you to call or text me. I don't want you to show up at school for any lunchtime visits. I don't want anymore of your pills. I want you to get out of my life."
Greg half laughs.
"Yeah right. JP, come on."
"I've had enough. I can't do this anymore, I…God. I've fucked up so much. And you're just making it all worse."
Greg stares at him, trying to figure it out, then his face twists.
"So he wins after all then? After everything he's done to you, you let him win?"
"It's not a game!" John Paul shouts. "It's my life!"
"And what kind of life can you live, in love with someone who will never love you back?"
"What kind of life can I live high on pills all the time?" he yells back, heedless of who hears. "What kind of life will I live if I die of a drug overdose before I'm 20?"
"You're making a mistake."
"No." John Paul shakes his head. "For the first time since I met you, I think I'm actually doing the right thing."
"And can you live without it? The lifestyle, the freedom?" He leans too close to John Paul. "The sex?"
There's something in the words that make John Paul feel as if Greg has just thrown a glass of cold water over him.
"Get out."
He shoves at Greg, pushing him out of the open door and along the landing, following him to the stairs.
"You'll miss it," Greg snaps, as he begins to go down the stairs. "You'll miss it and you'll be begging me to take you back."
"No," John Paul says, behind him. "No, I won't."
Greg stops and turns to face him on the stairs, their heights the same, eyes exactly level.
"Oh yes. Because once you've had a taste…" He trails off. One hand touches John Paul's cheek, finger skimming the skin. "You were very good at it."
John Paul shoves his hand away, almost violently. He doesn't want to know if that's all he ever really was to Greg. He doesn't want to know.
"Get. Out."
He watches as Greg goes down the remaining stairs and pulls open the door, turning to shoot John Paul once last glance before closing it behind him.
John Paul stays frozen for a long moment, then sinks down onto the stairs, back against the wall, and presses his hands against his eyes.
He can't hold back the sudden tears of relief, exhaustion, desperation. He sits and cries, and after a few moments he hears the stairs creak, and feels his mum's arms come around him, holding him so tightly.
"I'm sorry," he sobs. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," she replies soothingly, although he knows it's not. "It's all going to be okay."
He wishes he was five years old again, and that he could still believe her when she says it.
tbc.