-- J O H N --
Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, John put on his Buddy Holly glasses and lit up a cigarette with a match.
He treked downstairs, his combat boots padding against the wooden floor. John and his aunt Mimi were on their way to Uncle George's funeral.
When the teddy boy received the news that his uncle, the person who showed him the most compassion, was pronounced dead, John went numb.
He remembered calling Paul, but he only called him because he wanted to feel something. He had phoned the chubby lad in a drunken stupor, and once Paul asked the dreaded question, he simply hung up.
John didn't want Paul to know.
"Ready to go?" Mimi asked, holding her black umbrella. John shrugged, then followed her.
--
He dreaded the priest's talk about death. He dreaded the faint sniffles. What got John wondering, though, was Mimi. She kept her gaze at the coffin, but did not shed a single tear.
"George Lennon will be greatly missed."
Oh how his heart clenched at the sound of that sentence.
John puffed out his cheeks, his eyes narrowing at the coffin. As he continues to stare, John felt a presence watching him.
He turned around. From a distance, John saw a woman in her late thirties, wearing a black trench coat and had wavy red hair. She gave the young lad a sympathetic smile.
As everyone gathered to leave, John made an attempt to approach the woman, but before he could even greet her, she left in the blink of an eye.
"Who was tha'?" John asks as he turns to Michael, John's cousin.
Michael cleared his throat, then met John's gaze.
"She's your mother."
--
-- P A U L --
As he watched the funeral parlor disperse from its current form, Paul couldn't help but feel a large pang at his chest. He felt bad for John. He wanted to hold him and never let him go.
He watched as John stared down at his uncle's grave. Puffing out his cheeks, Paul made his way to the older lad.
"Hi John." Paul mumbled.
John looked up, eyes tired from the amount of tears he had shed while drinking large amounts of alcohol.
"Hey, Paul." John sighed. "What brings you 'ere?"
"Just wanted to check up on ye. I'm sorry for your loss, Lenny."
John gave out a small smile at the pep name, but it quickly dispersed the moment he saw his uncle's tombstone.
If only he could bring him back. . .
"I lost my mother about a couple of years back," Paul said, sighing. "I still think about 'er and wish the same thing: To bring her back."
John nodded. Without warning, he turned on his heel to leave.
"John, wait!" the chubby lad called, racing after him.
John turned around, stopping dead in his tracks.
Paul ran up to him and wrapped his arm around John's masculine shoulders. He then pressed a gentle kiss on John's dry lips; letting the kiss linger as a long-lasting memory.
He pulled away, then looked at John in sympathy.
"If you ever need anything, ye know you can stop by if ye need it."
John nodded. "Thanks, 'Macca."
With that, he left. Paul stood where he was and watched as Maggie May wrapped her lustful arms around John.
And he couldn't help but feel jealous of the entire thing.
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
Paul & John
Hayran Kurgu"It was always you, Paul." . . . John Lennon is Liverpool's bad boy. He smokes, drinks, and even shags a bird every now and again. He's a broken soul not wanting to be rescued. Paul McCartney is the exact opposite. After losing his mother, he fel...
