We lie there, staring at the ceiling, bodies saturated with sweat. Neither of us want to speak yet, we want to enjoy the company that we've missed for a year.
Rather than letting the issue of Brad and Cynthia get to me, I turn over and curl up to John, who welcomes my head on his chest with open arms.
I trace shapes on his stomach, letting my mind wander between the joy and pleasure I've just gone through. However, something in my mind cut through.
"John, don't marry her..."
Tearfully, I look up at him, pleading for him to follow his heart.
John looks torn. He averts his gaze and bites on his fingernail anxiously.
He doesn't say anything.
I place my head back on his chest and despite my efforts to hold back the tears, they spill onto his skin.
"Please don't cry, YN. If I needed someone to love, you're the one that I'd be thinking of." He whispers, stroking my head.
I smile at his words, looking up when he taps my shoulder.
"You don't get it?"
I shake my head, oblivious.
"When will you finally listen to our albums?!" John asks, jokingly outraged.
.............
A light coming on downstairs and filtering through the window above the door startles John and I, and we leap out of our daze. We dress, and brush our hair as quick as we can, knowing Brad will ascend those steps any moment now.
Once dressed, and our pulses return to normal, John and I look at each other one more time. We smile at each other, before he steps closer to me, pulling me into an embrace. Kissing the top of my head, I melt into the hug, knowing it'll be the last time we touch, but hoping otherwise.
"Come on, let's go down."
........
"So tomorrow's the big day!" Brad chimes, coming and sitting next to me.
"Yeah." John smiles.
"I bet you can't wait." Brad coos, making John and I make instantaneous eye contact, before swiftly averting our gaze.
"No. I can't believe it! It seems like only yesterday I asked her to marry me."
A silence fills the room, and I can't determine if it's awkward or not. Our afternoon together left me confused, and yearning. Despite his best efforts to mask his feelings, I could see through them. He wasn't happy. And it killed me to think of him saying "I do" tomorrow and letting himself be trapped in this for the rest of his life.
"Another drink?" John asks, shooting a look towards me, and then Brad when I decline. He too declines. We had been drinking and talking and eating all evening, and we all agreed we'd reached out limits.
"Fine, I'll just go and get these washed." John informs us, referring to our glasses and plates (on which we were served some of Cynthia's renowned homemade quiche.)
"Hey Brad, do you think you could see to Molly this time?" I ask looking at my boyfriend, needing some time with John.
"Of course." He nods, pecking my lips before shooting off upstairs.
As soon as he's out the door, I stand and head the kitchen, where John's hovered over the sink.
"It's not too late you know." I remind John, the sincerest of tones bending my voice.
John doesn't seem startled by my voice, almost like he expected (and wanted) me to follow him. However, upon my speaking, he lowers the plate he was washing into the sink, grasping onto the sides as if he was going to faint.
I rush towards him, and see he's crying. His cheeks are blotchy with tears, and he looks at me through blood-shot eyes.
"I don't know what to do, YN."
I pull him into an embrace as he whimpers. "I know, but you've got to do what's right."
"But how do I know, if I've never been taught what's right?" He whispers into my shoulder.
"Your heart will tell you."
Quietening down, John pulls away, looking deeply into my eyes.
When he leans in to kiss me, I push him back gently with my hand on his chest.
"Brad's here." I cast an apologetic look, and he nods, solemnly accepting.
"Listen, let's all go up to bed. You don't want to be tired on the best day of your life." I state, with a little laugh.
"And remember, you don't even have to decide until you're there. You can always say no."
And with a decisive nod, John smiles a grateful smile, before taking his leave.
I close my eyes and exhale deeply, worried for him, and worried for myself. The memories of earlier come flooding back, and as in on cue, Brad walks through the door.
"Hey baby, it's late you know..." Brad slurs. Out of all of us, he had the most to drink. He reaches out to hold my waist, while looking me up and down like a meal.
"Why don't we make use of that nice big bed?" He whispers into my ear, and when normally his voice would spark butterflies in my stomach, now the butterflies lie still.
It's not him I want.
YOU ARE READING
Norwegian Wood
Fanfiction"I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me." ~ A John Lennon Story. (Formerly called Yesterday.) {Mature Content}
