⇾ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

Chapter Fifteen: How Mean of You, McCartney

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March 10, 1964

"Do you think Pattie would like it more if I wore a gray suit or a black suit?"

John, Paul, and I looked at George imploringly. We were stuck inside with Ringo outside filming a solo sequence. George saw us look at him funny and shrugged.

"I just want it to be perfect."

"He wants to take her home," said John amusedly. "I don't think Ringo would want that."

"And you wonder why I make fun of you," George mumbled.

"Go with the black," I said to him. "It suits you better; it looks more professional."

"No pun intended?" asked Paul with a sideways grin.

"Not at all," I replied, smiling coyly.

George nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, Donna."

"No problem, George."

"I should have known better with a girl like you," sang John teasingly. "Donna's stealing my thunder! / Hey, hey, hey / Yeah, she is!" he added and I rolled my eyes.

"Sorry 'bout that," I said.

"I think we should bet on when they implode and run away from each other, George," said Paul jokingly.

"You're betting on our demise?" said John, gasping sarcastically. "How mean of you, McCartney!"

"I think they're stubborn enough to stay together forever," said George.

"Well," I began. "You're not exactly wrong."

The door opened and Ringo stumbled in, screaming tearing through the air. "Fuckin' hell," he said. "They're ruthless!"

We all laughed. "They don't hold back, do they, Ritchie?" I asked.

"No, they don't," he muttered, brushing something off of the long coat he was wearing.

"Meanwhile George is worrying about Pat—." John stooped his laughing when Pattie actually came into the room. George grinned like an idiot, flashing his fanged teeth.

John tugged on my sleeve and, when I caught his eye, stood me up and led me into the room next door: a room piled with snacks and coffee and tea, undoubtedly George's favorite room. John went over to a shelf in the corner that had some packaged snack cakes on it and took one off the top, examining it closely before opening it and popping it into his mouth.

He smiled at me. "You're a pretty bird," he said, grinning maniacally, and I blushed. He came across to the counter I was leaning against and put his arms around me, burying his head on my shoulder. "I'm so tired," he said.

"Well, I'm sorry," I said in response, giggling as he nuzzled up to me.

"We should get our own place," he mumbled into my neck.

I pulled him away with a lopsided grin. "A big farm? Ten kids to help?" I asked jokingly.

He nodded, grinning. "If that's what you want. We could have some chickens and some cows and some dogs and cats. We could grow all our food like we're from the olden days." He scrunched you his nose playfully.

I put my arms around him and laid my head against his chest. "I think you're right," I said.

The door opened and he pulled away from me. I reached towards a kettle of tea and a cup to pour it into as if I'd been doing that the whole time.

"They want to run a scene with you, John," said Brian, coming up beside me and patiently waiting for me to pour my drink.

"Ah, then," sighed John. "Duty calls," he said dramatically and left the room. I went to leave too, but Brian caught me before I did.

"How've you been, kiddo?" he asked, turning around and leaning against the counter. "I haven't been able to ask in awhile."

I took a sip of my tea and shrugged. "Same as always, I guess. Nothing much has been, y'know, happening."

"Are you sure?" he asked, too quickly.

"Uh—positively," I replied suspiciously.

"You're not hiding something from me?" His words came out snappy.

I opened my mouth to say something, but it closed again because I'd lost the words in my confusion. We hadn't told him about the pregnancy scare and I couldn't shake the possibility that he'd somehow found out about it. But, how could he have? We hadn't told anyone.

I shook my head. "Bri, I'd never hide anything from you." The lie burnt my throat.

Finally, he gave a curt nod, signaling he'd given up. Confused, I left the room without another word.

~John's POV~

I tried to focus on my lines. I'd looked over them a hundred times, so I knew them like the back of my hand. Nonetheless, I found myself distracted. Donna was standing in the corner of the room beside Brian. She looked more tense than she had been when I'd been with her earlier. She was writing on a piece of paper without looking up, not even when I noticed her pencil had stopped writing.

She really was beautiful. Her hair was styled up today, a style I rather enjoyed on her. She was dressed simply in a black turtleneck sweater with a pair of jeans. The clothes all seemed to hug her just right....

"John!" Paul snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Lines, mate?" he asked irritatedly.

"Wha...? Oh, right, yes." I really needed to stay on track. I hadn't been this distracted in ages.

Something was nagging at me, something I'd been thinking about a lot recently, a little voice in my the very back off my mind, a little voice I couldn't possibly dream to silence. It had been there for months now, but over the past week, it seemed to become urgent. It was telling me to do something rash, something that could either make or break me...and Donna.

And, it occurred to me, standing there, on the set of a movie I was starring in, that I was finally ready to face the voice, finally ready to give in. I was ready for this. I just had to hope Donna—and Brian, for that matter,—was too.

All the while, the little squeaking voice continued to ring in my ears.

"Marry her, John, marry her," it sang time and time again.

That was all it took to get me to finally realize why I'd felt so unhappy recently. Donna and I, well, perhaps we needed something more than a simple relationship. Perhaps we were ready for something more than just boyfriend and girlfriend. Perhaps we weren't ready for it, maybe this was just a sign that we needed to figure it out together, something to make us stronger.

"I'll marry her, I'll marry her." I silenced the voices in my head, smiling at a confused Paul as I told everyone around me I was ready to get the scene done.