Don't Pass Me By // Mclennon

~ thirty five ~

      So.
That's what we did. We strutted hand-in-hand to Richard's house with nothing else but our instruments strapped across our backs.

     I think that's how that saying goes.

     Neither of us even know for sure that the two of them would be there, but it's a well guess made by Paul.

     In no time at all though in the far distance, we could barely see the rusted ol' roof of Richard's place.

      "So, where are ye even from, anyroad?" Paul randomly spoke out of the silence. "Been togeva' for months now, and ye've never really told me."

      I looked up at the boy and smiled sarcastically, kind of in shock.

      Shit, he really wanted to know?

     "I mean," He cleared his throat, "Ye never really speak abou' yer past or anythin'. 'Specially regardin'... where ye lived. Seems as if ye never bring it up. Almost like ye'd rather forget it."

     "Yeah, uh..." I scratched my head, "Quite a bit random of ye to ask abou' that, now..."

      "Well? -" Paul motioned his hands for me to explain myself. "Ye've gotta tell me at some point."

      I scoffed, "Yeah, guess ye've got a point there." I paused, "Yer's truly is from good ol' Liddypol."

      Paul then furrowed his brows in confusion, "...Liddypol?" He scoffed with laughter.

      I rolled my eyes up towards the sky above us, "Liverpool."

      "Oh! Right. ...Liverpool? Like, the city?" Paul asked with a tilted head.

       "Yes, Paul, where else would I be talkin' abou', ye git?" I asked with a laugh.

       "It's jus that... Ye don't seem like ye'd be from there, yer nice." Paul pointed out.

       "And... What's that mean, exactly?" I asked, sliding my hands into the pockets of my coat.

       "Yer quiet, too, aren't ye?" Paul laughed back.

       I laughed and rubbed my hands together to keep them warm, "Thanks."

       Paul gasped a breath of air out of his mouth as he smiled, "Dunno... Ye jus seem so much more at home, here in little Penny Lake. Ye know? I jus can't imagine John Lennon livin' in the big city, I suppose."

        I paused for a moment and then flashed a quick smile, "Well... Guess not anymore!" I added.

       "This is my home now, Macca." I patted the boys back.

      Paul's eyes lit up at the sudden touch of my hand, "What abou' yer old mates? Don't ye ever miss 'em?"

      "I can always visit. Or ring 'em. Anyroad, none of 'em compare wi' ye, so what's it matter?" I admitted.

       Sorry Stu.

       "...Ye really do believe that, John?" Paul asked nervously.

       "Course I do, I ain't got a reason to lie. ...Not this time, anyroad." I assured the boy as we walked up to Richard's house.

       From the outside, you could hear the faint sound of instruments booming inside.

      Yeah, I reckon Paul and I were on to something when we decided to check here first for those two.

       Paul stared down at the front porch steps as I laid my fist against the wooden door before knocking. Everytime he took a breath, a tiny mist of air would cloud infront of him.