The First & the Last in Line

Chapter 1: Winnie

NOTE:

Warning: No Paul in this chapter (sadly)!! Mainly because this is kind of a background chapter, telling more about John's life before Paul. And also because I just felt this kind of a chapter was needed. But personally I think if you groaned like "oh god no mclennon action??" when you read this don't worry it's not that boring. This tells something about John and his friend Pete (friendship), you may need this info later in the story so just letting you know.

ps. Don't be afraid to tell me if I got some facts wrong or something else. Also, I'd love to hear opinions about this so just comment

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May 1956

There was fog creeping on the water in the harbour of Liverpool. It was late spring and the sun was going down and it illuminated to the surface of the water. The sky shimmered pink, orange and purple and it was unordinary beautiful, because it was usually so cloudy and rainy in Liverpool.

There was shouting echoing from the loading dock, but it was just distant noise. It didn't bother the group of boys sitting on the roof of the storage. They were laughing and telling jokes, drinking beer and sharing cigarettes.

But there was this one boy who sat slightly separated from the other four, so slightly it hardly showed, but the look in his eyes revealed that though his body was there his mind was somewhere else. He had a cigarette hanging from between his lips, a beer clutched to his hands and he stared towards the offing, away from the group.

"Hey, fellas, what's up with John?" a blond boy asked and raised his beer towards the silent boy, who didn't even notice when his name was mentioned. "I don't know. What is he even looking if he can't see a bloody thing? The sod's as blind as a fucking bat," one boy grinned and earned himself a spurt of laughter.

"Oh, cut it will ya?" the blond boy said even so grinning. "John! John Lennon! 'R ya deaf? I'm speaking to you," he yelled and John flinched and raised his glance to the blond. A small grin rose to his lips. "Oh, shut up, Shotton! You sound like Mimi," John said with a small laugh and turned his back to the sea, now facing the others.

"So did you have something special to tell me, Pete love?" he said batting his eyelashes and setting his hands beneath his chin like a school girl with a crush. A bark of laughter filled the silence of the night and Pete blushed a little and answered with a grin, "Oh no, John dear, you just seem a bit off. Have been all day. And why's that?" John shrugged and turned his gaze to the darkening sky serious again.

Others started to chat again, going on and on about girls, school and other stuff, but Pete's eyes remained thoughtful on John, who was closed away again. Usually John was so entertaining, funny and laughing and now he was suddenly quiet and serious. He just sat there looking thoughtful, even depressed, and he had forgotten his cigarette and beer entirely and that worried Pete, because John never forgot to smoke and drink. John was sitting so still that the ash of the cigarette didn't fall to the ground - it dangled from it, curving towards the ground, holding on to the butt of the ciggie. John moved a bit and the ash fell to the ground scattering on its way down.

No one except Pete seemed to notice when John got up and walked slowly to the edge of the roof and tossed the smoke from the roof after taking the last puff. He watched how it fell delicately and crashed to the ground without a sound, leaving the thinnest smoke trail after. John exhaled slowly and the smoke from his lungs escaped gushing between his lips, travelling along his nose bridge, past his closed eyes and clinging on to his skin before rising towards the sky.

"John..." John opened his eyes. He felt a hand patting his shoulder carefully. "John, you alright, mate?" Pete asked with a concerned smile. John gazed at him then quickly to the others - checking nobody was watching them and saw that they were still just messing around - and back to Pete. "Yeah, I'm alright," John said and forced a smile taking a sip of his beer that was - he suddenly remembered - still hanging in his hand.