Stu was gone a long time again. A really long time.
It was good to see Paul in a good mood. He'd been so distant lately and I was worried I'd done something to upset him. Trust John to turn him back into his old self. I heard someone jogging down the stairs and grinned, turning to the door. But it was only John.
"Still upstairs" he was unusually happy, a small glint in his eye. A glint of desire perhaps? Just what had gone on in that bedroom?
Upstairs was quiet. Too quiet for my liking. I excused myself and silently went up the stairs to the bedroom, where I guessed they were. My hand reached out to turn the knobs but i heard voices inside. Quiet voices. I pressed my ear against the door.
"But it's just...I can't help it Macca...I mean you gave me no choice. You fucking asked for it"
Macca? Why was Stuart calling Paul Macca? John had made up that pet name. Only John called him that.
"Asked for it? I didn't ask for anything. All I tried to do was help you tune your bloody bass and then you..."
There was a pause
"What? Oh come on McCartney, just because your not a fucking virgin anymore-"
I covered my mouth to stop the gasp coming out. No one ever talked to Stuart like that.
"What did you say?"
I literally thought Stu was going to kill him. I half expected a mass of blood to flow beneath the door and make a pool around my feet. But no sound came from the bedroom. Just a voice, a soft voice.
"You know I pity you Paul"
"What do you mean?"
"You. Your image. Think that teddy boy look will fool everyone, make them think your this cute innocent little boy who would never do anything wrong"
"What the hell-?"
"Ssh, you talk to much, you know that?"
I could feel myself stiffening with anger, an emotion I rarely felt.
"You know I'm right Paul" he said again.
His voice sounded beautiful, almost friendly.
"I mean look at you. Look at yourself. Look at that"
It was silent after that. I pressed my ear so close to the door I thought it would fall from it's hinges.
"Look at yourself McCartney. You're hideous"
I felt sick. My stomach churned unwillingly till I could feel the vomit touching my lips. How could anyone say that to Paul? Probably the most gorgeous guy you'd ever come across.
I heard Stuart whisper it again
I wanted to scream at Paul "Don't listen!" but I had to be quiet, I had to hear what was going on. I heard Paul stutter.
"No..." I let out without realising, feeling my eyes well up. Then all of a sudden the door open and I fell forwards onto my front. When my eye sight adjusted, I was staring at a pair of sneakers, one of them lightly tapping against the floor. I looked up and there was Stu, arms folded glaring down at me.
I grinned sheepishly, a device that usually got me out of trouble.
"Sorry" I said as innocently as I could, "Got lost. It won't happen again-"
Stuart suddenly lifted me up from the floor and took me roughly by the wrist, dragging me into the broom cupboard on the other side of the hall.
As soon as we were in there, he shoved me against the wall.
"How much did you hear?"
"I didn't hear anything-"
"Don't bothering lying, I know you heard something"
"I swear to you I didn't-"
"If you dare tell anyone you little shit-"
"Don't call me that!"
"I'll call you what I fucking like, you little tramp"
Without thinking, I sank my vampire teeth into his hand so I let me go instantly. I flopped onto the floor and before I realised what was going on, I was slapped so hard in the face I fell onto my side, my head hitting against the wall.
There was a pause, as I began sobbing quietly, not really out of pain but more out of my own misery. I wanted Paul more than ever now, but he was in his own little world. He didn't care about me.
Then Stuart surprised me further.
He picked me up and gently rested me back against the wall. I was hopelessly sobbing by now, great fat tears sliding down my cheeks which seemed to be on fire. He gently started wiping them away.
"Stop crying squirt, I didn't mean to. You were asking for it"
"What, like Paul?" I snapped at him, glaring daggers at him through my blurred eyes. I saw his eyes flicker and suddenly his face was touching mine, our foreheads pressed together so I was staring into those beautiful green eyes.
"I'm sorry" he whispered to me, "I didn't mean to hurt you. But you have to keep quiet, otherwise I'll have no choice. Understand?"
He was talking to me as if I was seven but I thought it was just wise to nod. Stuart gave me a half smile and kissed the sore patch on my cheek.
"I'm sorry" he said again and then he opened the door of the broom cupboard and left. I stayed there in the blackness, the burning spreading from my cheek down to my chest.
Then I flung the door open, ran to the bathroom and emptied out my stomach just in time.