you really got a hold on me | john lennon

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

February 9th, 1960

John and I's eyes darted to each other ever so often as we waited along with George for Paul to arrive with whatever joyful big news he had for us to hear. It took a lot of convincing from John and from George for me to come, and even allow for it to happen at my flat. It had been two months already since I had last seen Paul and as daft as it sounded — thinking of what he had done still was a painful memory to remember. It was utterly pathetic that I was holding onto it for this long, and I couldn't tell John or else I would be on the receiving end of another one of his lectures. His help for me during all this time was well-appreciated but me getting chastised over and over again by someone who was practically the same sure didn't make me any better.

And as for the awkward tension between John and I, I was to blame for that. After our brief snap back to reality during that visit to Julia and Jackie — John had become a man of his word and stuck to it. Who knew that you could long for a person so much after just a few days of not having them? I hated that John had actually listened to me this time even if it was only him following what I had asked of him. It was one of those moments where I was being a proper prat in decision making and speaking before I actually had thought it through.

"Christ, can you two just act normal for one minute? You both look like you've been touch-starved for weeks." George stared at the both of us, being the one to break the silence after thirty minutes of staying like this. He was obviously sick of this awkward atmosphere we had put him into against his will. "Say at least something. We're all friends here, aren't we?"

"We are being normal. Don't know what you're on to see anything different." I searched for a ciggie in my pockets before I finally found my pack, lighting it almost immediately to calm any nerves I had.

"And for the record, we aren't touch-starved. You're makin' a big deal out of nothing, Geo."

John plucks the ciggie that was in between my fingers and takes it for himself, smirking at me amused. I roll my eyes at him and grab the last one I had in my pack and light yet another one for myself.

"Could've just asked if you wanted one, y'know. No need to be a little thief over there."

"But that's no fun, isn't it?" John gives me a teasing wink while exhaling a puff of smoke.

He definitely was taking the piss out of me for asking him to stop the passes he was doing every opportunity he could. It was frustrating because knowing John, he wouldn't be stopping this until he got what he wanted. And in this case...me breaking and asking for him to do it myself. But I wouldn't be giving him any of that damn satisfaction that he craved no matter how much I wanted to.

A slight knock could suddenly be heard from the outside of the door and John's expression goes back to a hardened one in the blink of an eye. We both knew who this person could possibly be and we were both preparing ourselves mentally for it.

George walks to the door, hesitantly looking over to me before starting to twist the doorknob slowly.

And there he was. Paul came in wearing his usual teddy boy attire, a leather jacket with a crumpled white shirt underneath. He didn't look any different from the last time I saw him on New Year's Eve but his attitude seemed to have taken a whole different route. No longer filled to the brim with confidence but bleak and somber.

"Hi. Thanks for letting me come over to your house, Nat. I'm sorry about all that's happened between us recently."

"Save the hollow apologies for later, Macca. I've heard just about enough of those from you already." I let out a big grey ball of smoke and avoid making too long of eye contact with him by any means. What he had done already made me feel like utter shite even if I had nothing to do with it and this sure wasn't helping that unwarranted guilt. "Just say what you want to say and get it over with."