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“This is a stupid idea,” George complained as John led the seven of them into his toilet with a grin on his face. “It’s not even real!” He glanced over at Paul, who seemed just as worried as him about it, if not even more.
“If it’s not real, you haven’t got anything to worry about, Georgie,” Pete responded, not even hesitating on his own way.
The youngest boy still followed, anyway, and Paul did, as well, too scared to say how scared he really was. That would be far more embarrassing than anything else that could possibly happen, so he kept his lips sealed.
They all crowded into the small bathroom in the hall, and Ringo giggled, poking Paul on the side. “Sod off, Richie,” he whispered in a small voice. He was always scared of the older drummer, even if he was the most harmless person he’d ever met. He still seemed intimidating, and it made him nervous.
“What’s the matter, love? Are you scared? Just like baby Geo?” He looked over at George, too.
“Stop it,” Stuart said calmly, seeing how nervous they both looked. He was pretty nervous about it, as well. He’d grown up hearing and reading all kinds of ghost stories, and Bloody Mary was no exception. He remembered the nights he’d gone to bed scared for his life because his older brother had told him an awful story.
Then the door slammed behind him, and Pete flicked off the light. Stuart felt somebody grab onto his arm and lean on his shoulder. He could smell that it was George, and he started to rub the boy’s back, glad that nobody could see him shaking up against the older of the two.
He wondered where Paul was, though. He knew Paul had been scared, too, probably more than George, and he was still alone in the dark.
Then a candle was lit, and they all saw John lean up into the mirror, smiling evilly. “Bloody Mary,” he muttered, glancing over at Pete, who giggled. His eyes closed, and he said it again. “Bloody Mary.” A shaky breath escaped George, followed by a sniffle from Paul. He was still too scared to tell the others that he really wanted no part in this. He was going to be haunted forever, and it wasn’t even his fault. “Bloody Mary…”
The words seemed to hang in the air forever, and Paul prayed to the god he didn’t even believe in for everything to be okay. It was only a few words said in the dark, but the whole atmosphere of it kept getting under his skin. And the tickle on his wrist… He took a deep breath as John blew out the candle, closing his eyes. He moved his wrist over when he felt something else on it, but as soon as he did, he could hear the click of the lights turning back on and see the orange from behind his eyelids.
It wasn’t seconds later when he heard a growl behind him, and there were hands on his shoulders. George shrieked for a second, but he closed his eyes tighter and let out a bloodcurdling scream. He didn’t even register the fact that the hand had left or think to open his eyes to make sure things were alright. He seemed to have forgotten about all of it.
As far as he was concerned, there was the ghost of a dead girl behind him, and he was going to die. He continued to scream, barely hearing as John started to shout things.
“Get out,” he demanded, pushing at Pete to get him out of the bathroom. George and Stuart didn’t need to be pushed, and Ringo seemed a bit shocked that he was still making that god awful noise. “Out!” John yelled at him when he didn’t move. “Richard, get out!!” Ringo glared at him before back stepping out of the toilet, looking guilty.
Then, Paul felt John’s hands on his shoulders, and he calmed down enough to stop screaming and open his eyes. As he came to his senses, he saw the worry he’d caused in the eyes of John, scanning his face.
“Macca…?”
“I… I’m sorry, I thought…” John hummed, pulling back the shower curtain, and at first, Paul thought he was trying to show him that there was nothing there, but then he spoke again.
“Just put your clothes in here. I’ll deal with them,” came his whisper, so that the others couldn’t hear him. Paul opened his mouth to talk, but then he glanced down and saw what John was talking about.
“Oh, my god…” The only pyjama pants he’d brought were soaked, as was the bottom of his shirt. And the puddle circling around him hovered above the white tile humiliatingly. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to shrink in on himself, but he knew that wasn’t feasible. And that’s exactly why he started to peel them off.
“God, why didn’t you say something?” John wanted to sound angry, but his words only came off as sympathetic. “We wouldn’t have scared you if we knew you had to piss that badly…” Paul shrugged, moving onto taking his underwear off. “Well, next time, say something, yeah? I don’t want to have to deal with this every time we try to joke around with you and Georgie.”
“I’m sorry. Really.”
“Too late now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning up against the vanity when the locked doorknob started to rattle.
“John Lennon,” came the angry voice of his Aunt Mimi. “You better let me in there right now!” John jumped forward and threw Paul’s clothes in the shower. He practically pushed the younger boy into it and closed the curtain before opening it for the woman.
After stepping in and closing the door, she growled at him. “You told me there wouldn’t be any nonsense tonight. That was your one condition for having friends over. And it seems that you’ve completely disobeyed me.”
“It was just some fun, really--”
“It is almost two o’clock in the morning, and you’re going to tell me that that scream was just for fun?! What if you’ve woken the neighbours?” She raised her eyebrows at him, but he didn’t respond. “I don’t care what your excuse is. You’re grounded. And you’ll never have friends over here again.”
“Wait, Mimi…” He noticed her eyes staring at the floor. They lingered for a second before coming back up to meet his face.
“John, what’s that?”
“What--?”
“That!” she shouted, pointing her finger at the puddle on the floor. “The loo’s right there! Why would there be a puddle of wee on the ground so close to the--”
“It’s not!” John defended, knowing Paul had to have been getting upset over her words. She was being a lot harsher than she ought to have been.
She took a good sniff and then wrinkled her nose. “It is. God dammit, John. I want this cleaned up by morning, and I want your friends gone, too!” John nodded. “Good night.”
She left, and as soon as the door closed, he locked it back. “Fuck, Macca, I’m sorry. She’s not exactly the most understanding.”
“S’fine,” Paul responded through the shower curtain, too embarrassed to open it back. “It’s two in the morning, we can give her the benefit of the doubt, right?” John chuckled.
“Right,” he said. “Give me a second while I get you a pair of pyjamas to wear, yeah? Just leave yours in the bath, I’ll clean them and the floor.”
Paul didn’t respond, because John knew that he was grateful for what he’d done to protect his dignity. And even if he did want to act like a complete prick, Paul knew he wasn’t one. And that was all that mattered.
-
The next day for lunch, Paul was the only one still over at John’s place, so he sat down to sandwiches with John and Mimi. His friend had tried to figure out how to run the washing machine, but with no luck, so that morning after the others had left, he rushed to wash the pants and hang them to dry.
Mimi sighed through her nose, not seeming to care about the fact that Paul was sitting there and went right to lecturing her nephew.
“John, I’m not very happy about last night. You did wake up the neighbours, and that’s just unacceptable.” Neither of the boys said anything. John didn’t want to argue. Until she started talking again. “And the wee on the floor--”
“Stop it, Mimi,” he interrupted. Now she was talking about Paul, and that bothered him. “It was an accident, and it wasn’t anybody’s fault.” She glared at them.
“When’s his father picking him up?” she grumbled, seeing how desperately they both wanted to change the topic of conversation. “I’ve got things to do today, and watching your friends isn’t one of them.”
John had told her Paul’s father was coming later to pick him up, but really, they were just waiting for his pants to finish drying so he could bring them home with him. “I don’t know,” John said in reply. “He’s out today, so whenever he gets home.” John looked over at Paul, and the boy just blushed, nodding.
“I can take you home if you really need--”
“No,” John said hurriedly, and his aunt glanced over at Paul.
“Why don’t you let your friend answer, yeah? Paul, do you want me to drive you home?” He made eye contact with her, which was the worse thing he could have possibly done in this situation.
“Erm… okay…”
She smiled at him. “I’ll take you back after lunch, then. How does that sound?” With wide eyes, Paul looked over at John for help. Mimi caught on. “What’s going on?” she asked her nephew. “Is his father really coming to pick him up?”
“Mimi, it’s not--”
“Dammit, John! How long is he staying? I don’t want to be responsible for him!”
“You don’t have to be responsible for him. He’s not a child.” John rolled his eyes and laughed, but Mimi continued to stare at him. “He won’t be here long.”
“Can you just… go hang out somewhere else, please? I need some space today.” Without another word, she huffed and ran up the stairs. And then she called out. “John! Can you come here please?” Her voice sounded strained, and John hopped up and walked after her.
Paul stayed where he was but it wasn’t too long before he heard their hushed voices. “What’s this?” He knew immediately what she was talking about.
“Mimi…”
“Whose are they?”
“They’re Paul’s.” Silence followed, and he felt a sense of dread fill him. “Look, it’s really nothing.”
“And the floor…” More awkward silence. John had to have been blushing a lot at this point. “Why didn’t you just use the washing machine?”
“It’s new and fancy, and I didn’t know how to work it. I’m really sorry. It really wasn’t his fault, though. Please don’t be upset with him.” That made him feel better about it. That John wasn’t being nice just to be nice. He really wasn’t upset about it.
“Alright, I’ll throw them in the dryer. And I’ll drive him home if he wants. I’m sorry…” He heard a huff and then footsteps down the stairs. When John’s aunt walked by again, she was holding his pyjama pants, and he wanted to just cry.
John sat back down at the table. “Do you want a ride home later? She said she’d take you back.” Paul nodded.
“Erm, yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” He smiled genuinely at John, and he smiled back.