Just as he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, the car rolled to a stop, and it took a second for him to realize they were idling in Paul's driveway.
"Are you gonna step out of the car, or do you need a hand?" Paul asked quietly, leaning his elbow against the door and watching him with a dead look on his face.
Swallowing the thickness in his throat and fighting the stubborn sob for a moment, Johnny forced a nod and clumsily pushed the door open. Now it was Paul's turn to sigh. Climbing out his own side, he moved back around the car and tugged Johnny to his feet with effort, keeping a firm grip on him, all but dragging the staggering, limp man inside the house. Johnny was only able to remember the handful of times he had set foot in Paul's home, and his heart gave an uncomfortable jolt. Even though most of his thoughts were bogged down by the drugs, he was hyper aware of the situation, suddenly nervous.
"C'mon, get out of your jacket and shoes, at least, Christ. Before you ruin my carpets."
He obeyed silently, eyes flicking around the place, feeling so exposed and small. The silence dragged on a little longer than expected, as Paul stared him down with an unreadable expression. A few times he seemed to open his mouth, but stopped and closed it just as quick. At long last, he shook his head, gently taking his arm and pulling him along towards the bathroom.
"What were you after, Johnny?"
"Huh?"
"When you called me. You'd better not say it was for sex, you're in a hell of state to be thinking about getting it up and running."
Johnny fell quiet again, embarrassed and uncomfortable to be admitting he can't be the one thing Paul ever looks to him for. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his voice, leaning on the door frame as Paul began filling up the tub.
"I dunno. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
A laugh. This time, it held no mirth and Johnny winced inwardly. "Of course you weren't, why would you be?"
"Paul—"
"Alright, strip."
He could feel his body tensing up, the urge to run out of the room and hide himself slamming at the forefront of his head. Embarrassment gave way to insecurity, and Johnny's face fell, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"I don't really..."
"What, take baths?" Paul didn't glance up from watching the tub fill, rolling up his sleeves a bit.
Johnny glowered. "I can wash myself."
Turning his head, Paul raised his brows and shot him a dismissive look. "Yeah? You want me to leave you in here alone so you can pass out and drown? C'mon, on with it. I can be nice or I can rip them off, pick which one and let's go."
Refusing to answer, Johnny turned away, glowering into the corner as he slowly followed instructions, fumbling every now and then from the tremors and his need to lean on the wall while attempting to shed his clothes.
After a minute of stalling, he heard a soft sigh from the other man. "Do you need help?"
"No."
"Then quit wasting my damn time."
Nearly tripping over his feet, Johnny finally started stumbling free of the clothes, grimacing all the way. After all, he was already pathetic, no use in keeping some dignity at this point. He was down to his jeans being halfway undone when a light touch against his shoulder made him jerk hard enough to knock into the wall, nearly landing his fist into Paul's face before he realized who it was.
"Calm the fuck down," the older man chided, but when he was reached for again, Johnny still flinched. Paul finally hesitated, gaze flitting back and forth across the other man's face. After a tense moment he headed back to the tub, grabbing a bottle of soap and pouring a decent amount into the rising water. They both stood silently for a minute, Paul watching the water while Johnny peered between him and the door, fighting every fibre of his being and struggling against his instincts telling him to flee. When the surface of the water was adequately covered with bubbles, Paul shut off the faucet, and kept his eyes forward as he shook water off his hand. "I'm gonna go find you a change of clothes, okay? Try not to crack your head open or anything while I'm gone."
"Okay."
Paul slipped past him and back into the hallway, leaving Johnny by himself to finish undressing. Despite his best attempts to stay calm, the embarrassment and adrenaline had his hands trembling almost too hard to pull his jeans off. Eventually they made it to the floor, and Johnny carefully stepped into the tub, keeping his breathing steady all the while. It had been long enough since he had found the luxury of any sort of decent-smelling soap, and the addition of warm water lapping up around his knees and slowly crawling up his thighs felt surreal. His legs tingled with the feeling of pins and needles as the hot water flowed into the spaces around his skin, and his temples eased from throbbing to a gentle dull ache. With a soft grunt, Johnny eased himself the rest of the way down, up to his neck in the steamy bubbles.
Not long after, there was a soft knock at the bathroom door. "Can I come back in?"
"Yeah."
The door opened a crack, and Paul entered slowly, moving with such care that Johnny felt like a wounded animal. Mixed feelings tinted with guilt and shame wormed their way under his skin, and he was quite certain his expression was reflecting it, but Paul's voice was its usual chirp again as he set the clothes on the counter, still turned away politely. "The temperature okay? Not too hot, right?"
"It's fine."
"Good."
Paul was silent again, continuing to stare at the counter and fiddle with the clothes a bit, hesitating. Knowing all they've done together, he'd have thought he wouldn't care, but it was obvious he was trying not to look.
"You can turn around," Johnny said quietly, sinking a little lower in the water. "It's fine."
"Oh...yeah. Yeah. You sure?" Paul risked a brief glance over his shoulder. Johnny nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the man as he puttered about the bathroom, picking up Johnny's discarded clothes and shoving them in a small laundry hamper tucked into the corner. That made him feel ill. Washing his gross messes now. Paul was ready to speak again a few times, but hesitated before approaching the subject further. Just as he worked up the nerve to talk, he looked up to see Johnny staring at him. He froze, unsure of what to say to break the silence. "Johnny, I—"
"You're pissed."
Looking as if he was ready to snap his answer off as something mean and harsh, he faltered and swallowed. "I'm not...actually...sure."
The first of many uncomfortable silences hung over them. Tense, awkward seconds passed, and the water rippled as Johnny shifted. Paul busied himself straightening up some of the bathroom items. As his eyes passed over the products lining the walls, a few thoughts crossed his mind, and he looked back at the man in the tub, whose eyes had closed and appeared to be dozing off.
"Are you able to wash yourself?"
"Yeah," Johnny murmured, not opening his eyes.
"Are you gonna?"
There was no answer.
Glancing about the room again, Paul exhaled sharply and got to his feet. He shrugged off his over shirt and moved to hang it neatly on the towel rack before nudging Johnny to wake him up and asking him to move forward a bit. Tired, confused, and finally feeling enough comfort to ignore the awkwardness, Johnny obliged. As his eyes adjusted to staying open, he froze, lips parting as he saw Paul reaching his hands into the water, wetting a washcloth. Johnny's initial thought was of protest, however the words never made it past his throat, and his tongue stalled. The water rippled in wide circles as he sank lower in the bath to try to keep himself concealed, leaving an agitated pause between them.
"Please don't make this weirder than it has to be," Paul said finally, meeting Johnny's eyes again. When he didn't receive a reaction, he continued speaking, doing his best to look composed and reasonable. "Come on. Don't act like we're strangers to each other now. God knows you're not exactly shy."
Biting his lip a bit and not answering, Johnny looked away, still not budging much until Paul lightly took hold of his arm, gently nudging him forward a bit to expose his back. A second of hesitation, and then Paul set to work, making several passes over the expanse of skin before him, carefully clearing away the residual dirt. Reaching the upper arm, he felt a twinge of unease. Johnny kept his face turned away completely as his arm was carefully lifted from the water.
His eyes settled on the deep, red contusion across Johnny's inner elbow, and the cluster of smaller marks strewn about in an aimless pattern, purple and black, fading to sickly yellow in some areas. This wasn't the first time he'd seen these marks, though they looked particularly unsavory to him this time in such a quantity and state of abuse. The sight shot a lance of strange, hot emotion through him, and he glanced down at the drugged, heavy, sad heap leaning against the end of the tub, not having caught the flicker of distress across his face.
After a moment's study, Paul took a steadying breath and went back to work, cleaning the marks as gingerly as possible before slowly repeating the procedure with the other arm, in an attempt to keep Johnny from further tensing up.
When he worked his way up to the front of Johnny's chest, the younger man finally seemed to stiffen up and stare, frozen, breathing slow. Trying to disregard this response and remain focused, Paul chewed his lip and did his best not to look at the sullen dark eyes on him, or he knew the both of them would freeze and wallow in more awkward tension than either could handle. Clearing his throat, Paul soaped up the washcloth again and carefully removed the last of the dirt from Johnny's neck and shoulders, and finished scrubbing down his midsection, keeping as professional as he could and only looking away when not performing his task.
After a while, he finally noticed Johnny's heart pounding wildly. He considered asking if he was uncomfortable, if he had gone too far, if he wanted to be left alone, but before he had the chance, Johnny, huffed and slunk lower in the water again, finally lifting his arms and taking the washcloth out of Paul's grip with a strained noise.
"Hey, hey, alright, easy. It's okay. You know what, just relax, I'm sorry." Paul pulled his hands away, and sat back on his knees, moving a safe distance away in case he was pushed or kicked or snapped at, or who knew what else the man might do while doped up and anxious.
Clearing his throat and looking intensely mortified, Johnny managed a muttered apology. Paul didn't respond, sitting quietly, keeping his eyes in front of him and watching the ripples in the water. Another long period of silence stretched out between them, marked by labored breaths and subtle stirring.