Welcome to Hell || McLennon

Chapter Thirteen

Paul comes back to his house. He looks at the clock, at the minute hand of it and its slow movements. He has got an entire day to spend alone. The last twenty four hours of his life. He wants to clear his mind and not to be stressed, but he's scared as hell. Paul trusts John, but death is a terrifying thing to him. He's suddenly overwhelmed with pessimistic thoughts. What if anything goes wrong? What if he doesn't go to where John is and they'll be separated? What if everything is different, not as Lennon has told him? No. Stop. John would never lie to you. However, McCartney's afraid of dying. He's only 38. He's too young. Yes, he has become a living legend during those years, but still. Is he ready for so desperate step? There's still a chance to change his mind and fix all mistakes. No. Paul remembers, why he has made this decision. Even if there is his whole life ahead of him, it would be a long, lonely life without John...

He finally decides to do something to distract his thoughts and not to change his mind again, so he reaches his guitar. While playing, he puts all of his emotins in it – fear, insecurity, loneliness – and his heart. Macca founds himself singing about love, singing for John, like he could hear him, through gates of hell, through the border of their worlds. Through the thick line of living and being dead, the line, that they broke. Because their love was too strong and unbreakable, even in the afterlife.
After that, time is filled with doing everything and nothing in particular, like reading his favorite book again. Finally, he decides it's going nowhere, so he throws everyting away and dresses himself in a coat and leather gloves, wanting to go on his last walk. He takes his dog Martha and saunters through the streets, trying to pay attention at every detail of the world around him. To see the beauty he has never noticed before. City is covered in white, delicate snow. Sun went down and stars shine brightly. Streets are filled with people, busy with their lives and problems.
"Who's gonna take care of you, girl?" Paul asks Martha, petting her, but a bark is an only answer.

He comes back and makes himself a giant supper. He's gonna die, so it doesn't matter if he gets fat a bit, does it? Then McCartney sits on a sofa, having so much time to think. Think about eveyrthing. He wonders, what has John felt, when he was dying? What George and Ringo think about all of that? And finally, how will they dress him on his funeral?
After all, he goes to sleep. He dreams about running towards the woods, trying to reach everyone he loves. But they run away and disappear. Paul wakes up, jumps down from a bed and checks the clock. It's noon – he has slept for too long. He looks through the window, seeing whole city blanketed in snow. Sunlight streams in through the clouds. It's cold, but not freezing. Perfect day to die.

McCartney goes to the bathroom and makes himself, wanting to at least look good. He washes himself, his hair, combs it carefully, shaves and dresses himself in his favourite suit. Then he does everything he wanted to do before death – as he can. Thinking much about life. The last hours of his life come. Macca's heart starts to beat really fast. He is waiting patiently in a silence. Finally, he hears footsteps below.
"Paul? Are you here?" It's a voice he knows so well.
"Yes! Upstairs!" He shouts back, praying that John couldn't hear that Paul's voice is shaking a bit.

Lennon arrives in his bedroom and sees him, prepared and nervous. Worry and sadness fills his eyes.
"Oh, Paulie. I hope you changed your mind"
"No... It's too late" Bassist avoids his gaze.
"But Macca, you can still go back! Have a happy life. Really, I don't want you to do it for me..."
"But I want to. I've prepared myself. I can see no other way"
John sigh. "And how do you want to do it? Take a pills, get stoned to death or what?!" „N-no, this might not work..."
"So what? I have to stab you with a fucking knife?!" Lennon raises his voice, disbelieving in his lover.
"You know... Why not?" Paul sounds serious.
"You're kidding me, right?" He shakes his head. "You're not kidding. Paul, this is madness"
Paul doesn't answer, sitting on a bedside silently. He looks at the plate with half-eaten chocolate cake and a sharp knife. John notices it. His face goes pale. Macca comes to him and gives a knife to his hand.