Chapter Two-Hundred and Seventy-Five
Claire paused at the door to her bedroom, listening to the quiet sobs from inside. "John?" She opened her room, taking in the sight of John curled on his side as tears streamed down his cheeks. "What's the matter?" She placed her hand on his side, her heart breaking as he flinched at her touch.
He pulled a pillow over his head, his body shaking with exhaustion and tears. "I don't want to fight like this anymore." He sobbed.
Claire sat on the bed with him, matching the curve of her body to his own. "What are you fighting?" She asked, taking the pillow off of his head so that she could hear him, and also get a look at the cut on his scalp.
"I'm just tired of fighting." He hiccupped, pulling away slightly when she moved his hair away from the cut and caused it to pull at the scab. "I'm tired of fighting everyone else. I just want to be able to relax and stop for once."
She bit her lip, burying her nose in his neck. She suckled at his skin, praying that there could be some way to take this pain away from him. She breathed his scent, forcing herself to ignore the smell of the antibacterial cream in his hair. His body was warm against her own, every muscle holding a strength that had come from necessity and not choice, his skin was scarred and broken; but this was her John. He was her fiancé, her one love, her man, and nothing would take him from her. "I'll talk to Mom. She's just worried about you." She kissed his shoulder, trailing her lips over the scars on his skin. "We all are." She jumped as a light snore escaped him, smiling at the fact that he was actually sleeping for once in the last month. "Goodnight, Sugar."
Jessica watched as John and Claire walked through the park, glaring as the two took a seat on a bench along the trails and opened their Spanish and French books. "I hate that bitch." She growled, pushing her permed hair out of her face.
Timothy paused in his walk, tilting his head and cocking a brow at the opportunity he was hearing. "You like that skinny little fag, don't you?" He asked, nodding to John as he attempted to learn the words Claire was trying to teach him in French.
"I've grown up with him. He's been my crush since fifth grade, and he actually used to be the biggest asshole to Claire when we were kids." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left foot. "But Claire betrayed me and took him even though she knew that I liked him."
Timothy gave an evil smirk, his blue eyes flashing with mischief. "How about we make a deal. I want Claire, and you want Dickweed over there." He turned to the shorter girl, nodding to the couple on the bench. "If we work together, we can break them up, and steal one for ourselves."
She grinned, holding her hand out and shaking his. "Deal."