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Chapter 6

(A/N: wow, it's about time I stopped neglecting John)

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Part 6- John's P.O.V

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John sat in his room, strumming mindlessly on his guitar that very well needed to be tuned. He was lost in thought, staring at nowhere in particular. He chewed on his bottom lip, sighing. It was times like this that he wished more than anything to talk to his mum. She might would understand why Paul... Did what he did, she could help him figure this out and make things right between the two of them again. It wasn't fair, John had finally found someone who shared his love for rock and roll, someone that taught him to play banjo, someone who loved him unconditionally. And just like that, she was gone.

Definitely not fair.

If she were still here, John thought, would he tell her about Paul? He probably would, at this point he was desperate to talk about it with someone. Julia would be a little more open minded about this than Mimi, she wouldn't make a huge fuss about it. That was one of the things John liked about his mum, she was nothing like Mimi.

He had an empty feeling inside of him, tearing and gnawing at his thoughts. He felt that he may start crying again but shook his head fiercely, mumbling to himself. "You've done quite enough crying, it's not going to help you any in the long run, it's not bringing her back..."

He wiped at his eyes in an angry manner, stopping any tears that threatened to fall. But, this was just too much to handle, dealing with all of this. John was way too young to be going through this, his mother's death, feeling as though he's lost his best friend. Two of his best friends, lost in such a short time. Despite his best efforts of not crying, he was shaking, holding it all back. Suddenly, a harsh shudder took over his body and he couldn't take it any more. He threw his guitar away from him and turned around onto his side on the bed and buried his face in the pillow, crying quietly.

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Today there was band practice at Pete's house, and John would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous as hell. Would Paul ignore him, be angry? Or would he pretend it never happened in front of the others? It would hurt either way, so he figured he might as well accept it.

John hurriedly finished the toast Mimi made for breakfast and went back upstairs to get ready. He ended up wearing his usual greaser look, with a white T-shirt and leather jacket to top it off. He fixed his hair in a DA and grabbed the guitar, running back downstairs, already knowing he was going to be super late, as usual. He caught a bus to Pete's, hoping it would be faster than running. The whole way there, his heart was beating quite loudly, in anticipation and fear. When the bus stopped, he got out quickly, nearly knocking down some woman in his way. He muttered a short 'sorry' and went on with his way.

His footsteps quickened as he neared Pete's door and went on inside, not bothering to knock. It's his band's practice, he thought he shouldn't have to knock. Everyone else was already inside, waiting on him, setting up their instruments. He looked down at the ground, holding his guitar against his chest. He was hoping to avoid Paul's eyes right at the moment, as cowardly as that seems.

"What are ya waitin' for? We haven't got all day, ya tossers." He said lightly, chuckling. "Right then, what are we playing first?" George asked, just finishing tuning his guitar. He thought for a minute before replying 'One after 909'. He figured he could pay attention to that song without accidentally thinking of Paul and messing it up. They played it pretty well, and once it was over Paul brought his hand up to his mouth, coughing loudly. John turned to look at him, and he was bent over, coughing furiously. When he was done his face was red and his eyes were watery. Must've been quite a cold, from the sound of it.

"You going to live over there, McCartney?" Pete called, sounding annoyed. Paul nodded, obviously still recovering from his coughing fit. "I guess so. I don't think I should sing much more today, I've been sick for a while." He said quietly, fumbling awkwardly with one of the buttons on his shirt. John felt like he had been staring at him, and maybe a little too long, so he turned back around, clearing his throat. "Alright, you wanna do one, George? You could sing Roll over Beethoven." He said with an uninterested tone. George nodded and they launched into the next song

"Gonna write a little letter, gonna mail it to my local DJ....."

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(I apologize for such a short chapter, oops. I thought it would be cool to show some of John's side, but not in first person like I write Paul's. Please let me know if you think I should do more of John and try to balance it out.

I'll try to update soon, and hopefully it will be a longer chapter.

Thanks for reading everyone!)