𝔸𝔾𝕆ℕ𝕐 ⇒ 𝕁𝕆ℍℕ 𝕃𝔼ℕℕ𝕆ℕ

⋄ ⅠⅠ ⋄

❝𝕴 𝖉𝖎𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖜𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕. 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖊𝖕. 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖉. 𝕴𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊, 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖉. 𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊.❞

...

| February 11th, 1965 |

John's POV

It was a cold Thursday morning, and the band was shut inside their studio, recording their newly written songs. John held a cup of steaming tea, which was his fifteenth cup just that morning. Paul was scribbling down words on a clipboard. George was eating a sandwich, holding a plate beneath his hand in case any crumbs fell. Ringo was sitting at his drum kit, fidgeting with his wooden drumsticks.

The door opened, revealing Charlotte in one of the many dresses she and Cynthia bought with John's money. The boys looked up to see her approaching them, so they smiled in delight.

"Good morning," She set her bag next to an empty chair near George. "John, how many cups of tea have you had this morning?"

"I actually counted this time," John winked, downing the rest of the dark liquid. "This is me fifteenth,"

"That's not good for you!" Charlotte took the cup from his hands.

"So? I do what I want," He shrugged, glancing at Paul's paper.

"We figured out what we wanna do," Ringo spoke up, setting down his music equipment to join the conversation.

"Yeah, we're gonna make another movie," John nodded. "and I was thinkin', we should call it:'Eight Arms To Hold You',"

"Ah, sounds good," George commented, chewing his food.

"Yeah, we should tell Brian about it when he gets back," Paul gestured to the empty control room.

"So, we've already got the soundtrack written," John grabs the clipboard and flipped through the numerous pages. "See?"

The writing was surprisingly neat, with each character having a defined circular or angular shape.

"You wrote that?" Charlotte asked, pointing to the words.

"Yeah, ya like it?" He smiled, thinking she was referencing the lyrical content.

"Yeah, you have really nice handwriting," She said incredulously, examining each letter.

"Oh," John lowered his gaze as well as the clipboard. "I thought you were talkin' about the lyrics,"

"I love the lyrics," Charlotte rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, causing him to unwillingly blush and feel tingles on the area her skin touched his body. "Who'd ya write them for?"

In all honesty, he wasn't entirely sure who we wrote them about, Cynthia or Charlotte.

"Cyn," John felt that it was a lie though, it was about Charlotte.

"Nice," She commented.

Charlotte's sleeve accidentally dropped down her forearm slightly as she reached down to tie to her shoes. His eyes saw the small red lines on her left wrist, there were two, and they were thin horizontal marks. Small droplets of dried blood coated the surface of the slits.