Blackbird // Mclennon

If I Fell

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     " If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true
and help me understand?
'Cause I've been in love before,
and I found that love was more than just holding hands... "

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     I looked up at the chestnut-haired boy that I've been seeing all day, "Yer gonna get sick... Nappin' out here, and all." He told me. "I mean, it's rainin', are ye mad?"

    "Oh! Christ... I'm- I'm fine. Thanks for... wakin' me up, mate." I said, grabbing at my pounding chest.

    "No problem. Ye were going crazy in yer sleep, though. Couldn't help but... notice. Uh- Ye were crying and thrashing abou'... Eh..." He paused before he sat down under the tree next to me.

    I gave the boy a puzzled look.

    "Is everythin' alright at home?" He asked.

     I stared at him very cluelessly. I'm shocked to hear someone actually ask me that besides George. Why did he want to know about my personal life? After all, this is our first real encounter.

     "Um- First of all, I don't even know ye-" I pointed out.

     "Right! ...Right. The name's John Lennon." He interrupted, putting his hand out to shake mine. "And yer's?"

     "P- Paul McCartney." I took caution in my words. I then shook his hand slowly.

     He chuckled, "That's... an awfully long and formal name... How abou' I jus call ye..." He snapped his fingers in enlightenment, "Macca! That fits, doesn't it?"

     "Yeah, yeah, thas fine." I sighed. "Hey, do ye have the time?"

     "Sure, uh..." John looked at his watch, "It's a quarter 'till eight."

     I shot up from where I was sitting and realized how dark it was getting outside. "Oh no, my Father, he's gonna-"

     "Ah! So, it's yer old man. He's not very understandin' of ye, huh?" John asked, lighting up a cigarette. "Trust me, I've been there."

     "N-No... Not exactly. He isn't..." I paused, "He's probably the least understanding person I know. He's really strict, actually. I don't even think that it's a good idea... if I should go home right now, to be completely honest wi' ye." I chuckled a bit and looked up at the cloudy sky.

     "Oh," John focused his gaze over at me, "Well, ye can always come back and crash at my house, ...if that isn't too weird for ye." He then suggested with a slight laugh. "I mean, couch city ain't so bad. I jus know how... angry parents can be, sometimes."

     "That's a really friendly gesture and all, but we've only jus met... I've seen ye in school like, twice." I pointed out.

     "Three times, actually, but... I mean, really, who's counting?" John corrected me, I simply shot him an unamused grin.

     "Right," He cleared his throat, "Well, ...would ye rather go home and get yerself another black eye, then?" John blew smoke out of his mouth as he talked.

     It then dawned on me, he knew my Father did this.

     "How did ye know?" I asked, my voice now shrill with worry. "I've never told ye anythin' abou' the eye..."

     "Because I'm not an idiot, ...Macca." John replied smugly. "C'mon." He got up and gestured his head for me to follow him.

     I got up and followed him back to his house.