-- J O H N --
"I'm sorry for your loss, John." Maggie breathed, holding onto his waist. John rolled his eyes. He did not fancy the girl walking alongside him. At least, not at the moment. He was grieving for crying out loud!
"You know you can come to me if you need anything," Maggie said, smiling.
"Fuck off, will ye?!" John snapped. "Go shag another bloke, I'm not 'ere for your sexual sympathy."
Maggie fumed, she tightened her jaw as she walked away; throwing the middle finger at him.
"You can go to Hell, Lennon!"
"I was already in it once ye started putting yer 'ands on me." John spat.
With that, John got into the car with Mimi in the driver's seat. No topics were exchanged whatsoever.
Only the sound of silence lingered in the air.
--
For hours, so it seemed, John couldn't stop thinking about his mother. How did she know about Uncle George's passing?
He had a million questions spinning in his head that he couldn't process the others into his train of thought. He was overwhelmed.
Sitting up from his bed, John ran his hand through his slicked-back hair. He didn't know what to think of his mother suddenly coming into his life.
As a result, he knelt down to the floor and searched underneath his bed to find a bottle of whiskey. Popping the cap open, he tilted his head back and allowed the alcoholic beverage sink into the depths of his throat.
He drank to forget.
And forgetting was what he was good at.
He wanted to forget everything---including the day his mother left him with Auntie Mimi.
--
From downstairs, Mimi sat in the living room, reading a novel. She wasn't in any mood to talk to anyone, but she didn't have a choice once a knock came at the door.
"Michael?" Mimi asked, her eyebrows raised in a questionable manner. "What brings you here at twelve-thirty at night?"
Michael stepped inside the house, carrying his fedora in his hands. Mimi closed the door behind them both, then folded her arms across her chest.
"John wants to meet Julia."
Mimi sighed, placing her index finger and thumb on her forehead as she shakes her head in disbelief.
"He can go meet her if he wishes to," she breathes, "but he shouldn't hang about her for too long."
"Why's tha', Auntie Mimi?"
Mimi looked out into the distance, then back at Michael.
"She'll hurt him. That's why."
With that, she wrote down the address to her sister Julia's flat.
---
-- P A U L --
"Thank you sir," Paul bid the cashier goodbye as he exited the grocery store. Paul's father had sent him out to buy the groceries, simply implying that he needed the exercise.
Sighing, the young lad made his way home.
As he turned into the fifth corner in the slippery streets of Liverpool, Paul went through an alleyway; a short cut to his flat so to speak.
As he trekked through the gravel, Paul stopped dead in his tracks: Up ahead was a body in a lain position; holding a bottle in his hand.
Dropping his bags, Paul raced towards the body. He crept closer, then felt his jaw drop to the floor.
The person who was lying on the ground was John Lennon. He placed two fingers on his neck; trying to find a pulse. Once he found a faint pulse, Paul let out a sigh of relief.
He looked down at his hand, finding that John's large hand was covered in blood. It wouldn't stop shaking.
"John," Paul shook him lightly, "Lenny, wake up. It's me, Paul."
John stirred in his drunken state, his eyes half-opened once he saw Paul sitting in front of him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he sat up; wincing from the wound he now had on his right hand.
"What are ye doing here, 'Macca?" John slurred.
"I should ask you the same thing, John." Paul let out a huff.
He got up and held his hand for John to take. John gave his friend his hand and got up. Paul then bent down and picked up the bags of groceries.
"Yer staying at my place tonight," Paul muttered as thunder roared above them; the rainstorm pouring down on the two lads harshly.
John nodded. "Straight forward aren't we, 'Macca?"
Paul didn't say anything. He continued to walk with the older lad trailing behind him like a lost puppy.
They shivered on their way to Paul's flat. John being the most frozen out of the two of them. In a non-homosexual manner, John grabbed his friend's hand; intertwining their fingers together.
Neither of them said anything. They were traveling back home from the middle of nowhere.
Maybe nowhere was the place to be.
YOU ARE READING
Paul & John
Fanfiction"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...
