[A/N: Enjoy!]
...
(John's perspective)
How the hell had he fucked up this badly?
Jesus, it only took her seeing the pen for it all to go to shit. He hadn't meant for her to see it yet. He wanted to approach her differently, to ask her if it was okay, tell her his reasons, and offer to scratch it out if she objected. But instead she saw it first, and came to her own conclusion, which was right, and of course she became upset. Of course she couldn't believe him. Of course she yelled, of course she wouldn't let him speak, and of course she left angrily. And of course, he caught the tears on her cheeks that she tried to hide from him.
John's heart was so heavy he thought it'd drop right out of him. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He knew he couldn't ask her before the game, or she'd never go for it or even answer any questions, so he was going to ask her after. He wished she would know that. He wished he could explain that. He wished he could explain everything.
He just wanted to remember it, not for his amusement, not for his pleasure, but for her. So that he could remember every single thing she liked, every single fantasy, every single wish and want and longing. He wanted to remember what turned her on, what excited her, what made her happy, and what made her curious. He wanted to remember what she thought about and how it made her react, and he wanted to remember what she thought about the things he said and how that made her react. That's all he wanted. He wished and wished he could tell her that.
He understood why she was upset. She didn't know his reasons, and if he was in her situation and as afraid to open up as her, he would've reacted the same way. Without knowing his motives and without knowing that he was going to ask her permission, of course she'd feel like her trust and privacy were broken and invaded. Now all he wanted was to take those feelings away from her, to explain and make her feel better and have them be able to talk again. He'd even wanted to let her ask the same questions, so she could hear his responses, but he felt like it was all too late now. He wondered if she would ever want to open up with him again.
Angry with himself, John tore down the damned fort, knocked over the stupid fucking Jenga tower, threw a few other random things to the ground, and flopped onto his bed.
…..
(Paige's perspective)
I let my anger out through my tears, sobbing and hugging myself on my bed. I felt so exposed, so open, so vulnerable, and so hurt, I didn't know what else to do. My world came crashing down. It was like one of my worst, most hidden fears had become a reality, and now I couldn't stop it.
Suddenly I heard things crashing coming from John's room, and I realized that he must've been throwing things. It stopped abruptly. I could almost feel his anger just from the noise and the following silence. And then I began to worry that it was towards me.
What if he was mad at me for reacting so harshly? What if he was angry because I didn't let him explain? He still had the notebook filled with everything I'd said. What if he told someone what it said? What if he let someone else read it? What if he used it against me?
Part of me recognized how irrational my thinking was. He would never do something like that. But then I realized that I'd thought he'd never do something like writing down my secrets, my personal thoughts, without telling me, and he did that right in front of me. And so the panic rose in me again along with more fear and despair, and I sat up, more tears spilling onto my cheeks.
I had to get that notebook without making him any angrier, or it would be the end of me.
…..
(John's perspective)
The next day, after sleeping sadly and alone, John went down to breakfast to see Paige at the table, and immediately dreaded the next few minutes. She wasn't completely avoiding him like before, so he thought she would be giving him angry glances all morning, which he wouldn't be able to bare. He couldn't stand the thought of her being mad at him anymore, and he wondered how he could get her to be happy with him again.
John sat down next to his mother, Paige sitting across from her. He silently put eggs and a piece of toast on his plate, not looking up. Once he sat, he played with his food for a moment before he dared to look up at her.
She bit a piece of toast and smiled cheerily, staring happily right at him.
What the fuck?
Not knowing what else to do, John smiled at her warily, then went back to staring at his food, taking a bite every once in a while. That was super weird.
When he was halfway finished with his food, Paige was done with hers, and she quickly put her dishes in the sink and made her way upstairs. He left his plate and ran after her. At the top of the stairs, he grabbed her shoulder gently. "Paige?" he asked.
She seemed to take a deep breath and mutter something before turning around and smiling broadly at him. "Hey, John, good morning."
He just stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. "I, uh... are you still upset?" he asked finally.
She sighed. "I was, but I was thinking and I realized how silly I was being. I was overreacting over something stupid. We're good now." She paused to smile at him before looking worried. "Aren't we?"
He thought she was being oddly charming and cheerful for someone who was yelling, crying, and slamming doors the day before. She'd seemed madder than she'd ever been before, and now she was fine, without so much as an explanation or apology from him? Something was up. "Um... yeah, I guess we are if you are," he replied. She nodded and smiled again before turning and going to her room.
What the hell was going on?
…..
(Paige's perspective)
Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.
I'd been so close to getting in his room. I was so close to getting the damned notebook. But he just had to fucking follow me.
I tried to act as friendly as possible, terrified that he would get more upset with me than he already was. I smiled when I could, greeted him, and I even told him that I wasn't upset and had been acting ridiculous in the first place. Of course, in reality, I didn't actually want to do any of those things. But I knew I had to, or he would tell someone something deeply personal and my life would be over.
I'd tried to eat quickly so I could finish before him and sneak into his room, but he ran after me and caught me before I could. Just feeling him touch my shoulder made me want to puke, and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down as I cursed to myself under my breath. I put on my ridiculous happy act and went to my room.
I'd just have to try after school. I'd run as fast as I could home, way ahead of him – he usually hung around with his friends anyways – and then I'd get the fucking thing and burn it. Satisfied with my plan, I grabbed my bag and checked to see if he was in the hall and, finding it empty, I went downstairs, out the door, and off to school.
That day, which, unfortunately, had been my first day back since I took a little break from school, all I could think about was the notebook. I felt paranoid and insane, but I was so afraid. Every time anyone looked at me, I felt like they'd found out something. My worst fear was that Ricky or one of his friends had found something out. But no one did, and Ricky and his assholes never even looked in my direction, which made me curious.
Finally, I rushed home, and I made it there at least ten minutes before John usually did.
My paranoia was finally going to end.
…..
(John's perspective)
After school, John saw the stormy gray sky and decided to go on without his friends so he wouldn't have to walk home in the rain. He made it home just when it started to drizzle and ran inside before he could get wet. Paige's weird behavior was still on his mind.
He made his way up the stairs and peeked inside her room, finding it empty. He relaxed slightly, not ready to deal with her out of place happiness.
When he opened his door, he jumped, seeing Paige rummaging through his desk drawer. Other things of his were strewn in different places on the floor. Not enough for it to be insane, but enough to frustrate and confuse him to no end. "Alright," he practically yelled, finished with her acting so oddly, "what the hell are you doing now?" She turned and stood, and then one of the most frightened looks he'd ever seen on her face appeared. His mild anger disappeared at the sight of her eyes. She looked like a deer in the headlights, and she froze just the same. "Paige?"
"Please don't be mad," her voice croaked as she dropped an old sketchbook of his.
Exasperated, John couldn't help sounding terse. "What the fuck is going on?" he asked, and he hadn't meant it to be an angry question, but she reacted as if it was, now trembling in front of him.
"I was just looking for the notebook," she squeaked quickly. "I... wanted to change one of my answers for you." He could tell she was lying from the moment she paused, simply from her expression. "Please don't be mad, please. I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry."
He didn't even know where to start. He thought about what she'd said, what she'd lied about, and came to his own conclusion. "You just want to get rid of the fucking answers, don't you?" he asked, frustrated with how she was going about it. She could have just asked him. He thought she'd know better than to think he wouldn't just give her the damn notebook.
His frustration once again melted away when he saw her face. She was trembling even more now, her arms pulled close to her so that she looked smaller, and he could see her lip begin to wobble slightly. Suddenly she burst into tears. He could hear her sobs and see her tears and all he wanted to do was hold her. "Please don't show anybody," she said, her voice cracking. "Please. I know you're angry because I yelled at you and didn't let you talk, and I'm so sorry, and I'm sorry for going through your things. I just didn't want anyone to see. Please don't let anyone see." Sobs filled her again, and she covered her face with her hands, shaking and gasping and sniffling.
Baffled, John paused, not knowing what to say. He heard a roll of thunder and the patter of rain on the roof. He took a deep breath. "Do you wanna know why I wrote down everything you said?" he asked. Paige sniffed and looked like she was trying to calm herself, breathing unevenly and still shaking, as she looked at John fearfully. She must've been afraid of the answer, and she didn't reply. "Jesus," he muttered to himself, moving over to her. He grabbed her by the arm and moved her to the window, and she went willingly and silently, still trembling. "This is why." She looked confused, and he gestured to outside. "You like it when it's storming outside," he said, "because you can say things that you can't when it's not, and it sets a quiet, romantic mood, and you can cuddle with someone and pretend you're scared, but you're not, and then you can listen to the thunder together." She looked stunned, but still slightly confused, and she wouldn't stop shaking.
John turned around and grabbed a blanket off of his bed. He went up to Paige, who still looked slightly confused and whose cheeks were still shiny with tears, and wrapped her up in it like she was a burrito. Her arms were held tightly against her chest inside the blanket because of the way they had been raised, and once it went around her two or three times, she stood there and looked even more stunned. Silently, he scooped her up the same way he always did, went over to his bed, and sat with his back to the headboard. He carefully sat her in his lap, her legs laying horizontally across his thighs. He could feel her stiffen through the trembling, and she had to turn her head to look at him. "I..." she began, but she trailed off, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"Shh," he said, trying to soothe her as he wrapped an arm around her blanket-covered back, pulling her side into him. She leaned her head back, looking at him in shock.
"But, I –" she protested.
"Shh, just listen to the thunder," he whispered, knowing it would calm her down. They sat silently and he watched her eyes bounce around the room as she listened. For a few seconds they could only hear the calming rain, but then they heard another roll of thunder. At this, John could feel her relax, her body becoming loose as she trembled less. He thought for a moment about how, when she cried, she really cried, and it affected her whole body for full minutes after wards.
"I'm scared," she whispered, and he thought she was pretending like in her description.
"But not really," he whispered back, "right?"
"Yes, really," she mumbled.
John scanned her face as she stared into the distance as if he could find the reason there. "Of what?" he asked quietly. "The storm?"
"No," she replied meekly, her voice and eyes distant, "of myself."
He felt a pang in his chest. "Why?"
"I'm scared that I'd do something like this," she replied, still mumbling slightly, pausing every once in a while to take in a somewhat shaky breath. "That I'd assume you were doing something to be anything but kind." She shook her head, keeping her gaze low and towards nothing in particular. "I heard you throwing things, and I thought you were mad at me, and I thought that you'd show or tell someone what you wrote to get back at me. I figured, if you would write it in the first place, why wouldn't you show someone? So I tried to keep you from being mad so you wouldn't show anybody long enough for me to get the notebook. That's why I was in here. I was so scared when you caught me, so terrified that you'd show someone, that I lied." Tears filled her eyes and she began to tremble again.
"Now I know you really should be mad at me," she continued. "I didn't trust you, and I wouldn't listen to you, and I said and did awful things, and I invaded your privacy, and I'm sorry, John, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't remember you would never do something so mean." She was shaking again, and she shut her eyes tight as more sobs escaped her and tears fell into her lap. Her arms started to move like they were going to get out of the blanket, and he figured she wanted to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
He gently placed his hand over the spot where her arms were, stopping her. He gave her a look that said, Let me. His hand moved up and brushed the tears off with his thumb, stopping to slowly and lovingly stroke her cheek. After a moment, he wrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her close, and her body released all stiffness and collapsed against him, still tightly wound in the blanket. Her head fell to his shoulder, and her face became buried in the crook of his neck, making it slightly wet with tears. "I was just so scared," she kept muttering, along with, "I'm sorry."
John hugged her even closer and stroked her back soothingly. "I'm sorry," he said, which quieted her. "I should have asked you first. I just thought you wouldn't want to, so I was going to explain and ask you after wards and get rid of it if you still didn't like it. You weren't supposed to see it so soon. But it was all my fault. I did invade your privacy and break your trust, and I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I threw things and made you think I was mad at you, and I'm sorry I came in now and yelled at you and made it worse. I was just frustrated with myself and the situation, not you. And I'm sorry you felt so scared and sad and I'm sorry that you felt like you needed to do all of this just to get rid of what I wrote." He paused. "I think I'm gonna burn those pages tomorrow."
Paige sniffled. "No," she protested quietly. "You wrote them down for a reason, and now I know it's a sweet one."
"Okay," John said. He still felt her shake against him, and he worried that there was something wrong with her. "You're still trembling," he told her, his voice softer than the rain.
"I'm sorry," she said, making him shake his head.
"Don't be," he said, "I'm just worried about you."
"I just..." she said, taking in a shaky breath. "I was really scared," her voice squeaked, "I was just so scared. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable. I've never told anyone anything that personal. I was just so scared someone else would find out. It's like..." she paused and seemed to be thinking. "It's like when you almost fall off somewhere high up and you're so rattled, even though you know you're fine, that you still feel scared."
"I know," he said soothingly. He rested his forehead on top of her hair, taking in a deep breath and smelling her clean and calming scent. It was funny how, now, of all times, she smelled like the rain. He kissed her forehead lovingly, then her temple, and then he went to whisper in her ear. "I remember you saying that you liked it when I whispered romantic things to you." He put his lips on the side of her face and stroked her back again. She nuzzled into him, curling her legs up so that her heels pressed against his thigh. She was now a blanket-ball in his lap, her head still resting on his shoulder. She nuzzled into him again, and he took it as a sign that she wanted him to hold her closer. He did, gladly, and kissed the top of her head again, once more taking in her scent. "Do you want me to, to calm you down?" he whispered into her hair.
"Yes," Paige whispered even quieter than him, "please."
John sighed happily and felt her move with him, moving the hand stroking her back to her hair, making her nuzzle her face into his neck. He smiled, loving every moment of this. He understood now why she liked the storms. "I love you more than the rain and the thunder," he whispered, "more than the stars and the sun, more than the night sky and the sunrise and the sunset. And I love how brave you are, and strong you are, and beautiful you are, and I love your shyness and bashfulness, and your honesty and kindness, and your smarts and humor. And I love your bubbly laugh, and your blushing cheeks, and your adorable nose, and your shimmering eyes, and your dewy lips, and your glowing skin. And I love how quiet but loud you are, and how silly but serious you are, and how calm but excited you are. And I love how much you love me..."
He continued to whisper to her, into her soft hair as he ran his fingers through it, while she nuzzled into him and sighed contentedly every once in a while. He felt the quiet, romantic mood that Paige had described. He wished it could be this way forever, but eventually the thunder, then the rain, and then the dark clouds all went away. Paige had fallen asleep in his lap, and soon the calmness pulled him in with her.
Around an hour or two later, John felt something squirming in his lap. Then something warm started gently nudging his neck. Confused, he opened his eyes and saw Paige looking up at him, and then he remembered and realized what she'd been doing. He forgot that she was barely able to use her arms, so she'd been squirming against him and poking his neck with her head and face. He smiled. "Sorry," she said, blushing slightly, "I tried to say your name but you wouldn't wake up and I didn't want to yell."
"That's alright," he said, still grinning at her. She was so damn cute.
"Can I get up now?" she asked sweetly, and then she demonstrated her inability by wriggling back and forth again slightly. "I wanna see if there's a rainbow."
"Sure." John scooped her up, making her smile, too, and plopped her down on her feet, unwrapping the blanket from around her. He tossed it on the bed as she walked over to the window, and he walked over to see with her. He watched as her eyes scanned the sky outside.
"There," she said excitedly, tapping on the window and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was just like how she was in the zoo, so excited and endearing. "Do you see it? Isn't it beautiful?"
"Gorgeous," he breathed, looking at the wonderful sight. He turned and saw another. "Just like you."
She looked at him at this, and he caught a blush on her cheeks. Then she rolled her eyes, which he could tell was because she was hiding it, and said, "Could you get any cheesier?" John grinned and watched her turn back to the window for a moment, before she looked back towards him. "I'd rather look at you than any rainbow," she said, keeping her gaze on him.
"Could you get any cheesier?" he teased, smiling and taking her hands.
"I don't think so," she responded, smiling back.
God, he couldn't get happier when he was with her. But he still felt slightly guilty for writing her secrets down. Then, as he stared out the window with her, her hands in his, he thought of something to make it up to her.
…..
(Paige's perspective)
He was so loving. I couldn't ask for anyone better.
I'd done so many awful things, and he'd only done one semi-awful thing with the best intentions, but he still cared for me and made me feel better when I cried. And boy, did I cry. That was one thing that kind of embarrassed me: while most people would just cry or sob, I would cry, sob, shudder, shake, tremble, stammer, and gasp while John held me close for longer than anyone else would need to. But he never complained, and some part of me felt like he was actually more than okay with it.
The way he made me feel better, the way he showed me the little details he'd remembered just by writing it down, made my heart flutter. I wanted to kiss and hug him right then and there, but instead I'd felt so guilty and afraid that I couldn't stop fucking shaking. And he just wrapped me in a blanket and put me in his lap and soothed me and whispered the most loving things to me. I got butterflies in my stomach with every word, every time he held me closer, every time he stroked my back, every time he kissed my head gently and lovingly.
Then we both fell asleep, and I couldn't wake him up without wiggling around. It felt a little embarrassing, doing that on his lap, and when I'd felt better, simply being on his lap at all. But I was in a thick blanket and I wasn't really sitting on his lap, so that made me feel less awkward. Finally, he woke up, and then we stood and watched the rainbow, saying cheesy things to each other as he held my hands. I was so happy, standing there next to him, watching something so beautiful.
We went downstairs for dinner, and, probably noticing that the table wasn't so tense, Sarah looked relieved that she didn't have to talk to us about anything.
Afterwards, when John said he needed to go to his room to do homework, I went to mine to read. I was there for around twenty minutes before I saw something slide underneath my door.
I stood and grabbed the folded piece of paper, knowing immediately it was from John. And when I unfolded it and started reading, I realized exactly what it was.
I walked over to his room and saw him sitting on his bed, doodling. He saw me come in and put down his notebook. "Hey," he said.
"You cheater," I accused jokingly, holding up the piece of paper. "Why do I have to tell you every embarrassing answer to your questions, while you held my hand and stared at me, but you just get to write them down and slip it under my door without even speaking a word?"
"Because," he said, grinning a little, "I wanted to hear you say them. I wanted to watch you as you said them. And it was good for you, to help get you out of your comfort zone."
"That's not very fair," I said teasingly. "What if I wanted to hear and watch you say them? Am I just not allowed because what, you're already in your comfort zone?" I grinned at him a little, not seriously upset but still feeling unjustified. I kinda wanted him to know what it felt like.
"Oh, so you want to hear me say them?" he said, a mischievous smile on his lips. I became slightly nervous, but somehow excited, as he slowly stood and took my hand. "If you say so," he continued, gently pulling me towards him as he sat back down, "but be warned, they get pretty dirty." He smirked, and before I knew what was happening his gentle pulling on my hand turned into his other arm around my waist, and the arm around my waist turned into him pulling me into his lap.
I felt my face get hot as I realized two things. One, this was the second time today that he'd put me in his lap, and this time there weren't layers of blanket between us. Two, I'd put myself in this situation. Somehow, because this just had to be me, he was going to turn this around so that, even though it was his personal thoughts being spoken, it would still embarrass me. Probably because it would turn me on. "Oh, uh..." I said, uncomfortable already, "never mind, that's okay. I'll just go read them in my room." But instead of trying to leave, I just stared at him, waiting for him to accept it. I knew he wouldn't.
Instead, he said, "Don't be ridiculous," mocking my oddly formal decline. He pulled me closer, his arm still around my waist, the same playful smile on his face. "It's no problem at all. Of course, if you don't want me to read them..." he gently took the paper out of my hands, looking into my eyes, "I'll just take the paper back. But if you do, I'll gladly tell you about them. In detail." He continued to gaze into my eyes, and I felt so excited for him to read them but nervous to let him at the same time. I knew he was saying these things because he knew they would get to me. I wondered just how detailed "in detail" meant. "So," he continued, "which do you want?"
I blushed hard and involuntarily squirmed a little, making him smile broadly. "You, uh..." I stammered, feeling embarrassed to admit it, "you can read them... if that's what you want."
He tilted his head to the side, as if he knew the trick I was pulling. Trying to make it seem like I didn't actually want it, like it was him that asked for it. I could tell that he recognized it before it even left my lips. "I know that's what I want," he said, his eyes not leaving mine, "but I was asking if that was what you wanted." He squeezed my hand with the one that wasn't around me. "Is it?"
I waited for a moment before finally answering."Yes," I murmured, looking down at our hands.
"Good," he said, sounding partly excited and partly calm and collected, but all blended together. He grinned, and I looked up to see it along with the glint in his eyes that immediately told me how much fun he knew he was going to have.
...
[A/N: No, Paige does not have some sort of disease/disorder. Some people cry that intensely, plus, after going through something traumatic, people can get kinda shaky. Anyways, I hope you liked the chapter! REVIEW, thanks for reading, and more to come!]