Pointless McSutcliffe

One Shot - Don't We All?

'I feel sick. Rotten inside'

'Don't we all?'

***

The man was almost a memory pulled from the past.

Ten years and he still had the same stupid haircut, the same stupid sunglasses.

They'd made their peace but certainly weren't friends, not at all.

So having him visit at this hour and day was the oddest occurrence, but then again, Stuart wasn't exactly a regular everyday man.

***

'She left me'

He didn't elaborate. Didn't say anything else.

Only set down his ratty suitcase, and that was enough indication for Paul to know he would be staying for a long, long while.

***

Paul seriously considered kicking him out. His life was already busy and messed up as it was, he didn't need a heartbroken artist hanging off his back to add more trouble to the pile.

Between broken friendships, neverending legalities and arguments and papers to be signed and letters to be burnt and calls to be ignored, Stuart was just the cherry on top.

***

Linda rarely asked him questions, but today was the exception. Unfortunately, Paul had no answers. They both just stood on the doorframe and observed this shadow of Paul's past as he slept for twelve hours straight.

Made sense, Paul guessed. Hamburg was still an awfully long way from here.

He just couldn't understand why did he turn to him and not John or anybody else.

Weren't they *best friends*, after all?

***

Breakfast next morning was an awkward deal.

Stuart stumbled down, still wearing yesterday's clothes, and quietly nodded in salutation to Paul and Linda, gave off an awkward smile to Heather, and sat down. Ate quickly and retried back upstairs, no words at any given moment.

'Who is that, dad?'

'...an old friend, Heather. He'll be staying for a while now'

***

'So...'

'I know I've overstayed. I have a place in London, I just- I just didn't wanted to be alone'

'Looks like ye've done a shit job son, 'aven't left this room in a week or so'

'I'm sorry'

'...gonna tell me what happened, or-?'

'Trust me, I wish I knew. One day I was just there, waking up and all, and she was gone. Lit'le note on the nightstand, she just... Left. No explanation, no indication, she was just... Gone. So I waited, and waited, and she just never came back. Being alone there was driving me insane. I'm terribly sorry, swear I am'

'Don't need. That sounds awful. Ye welcome to stay as long as ye need to'.

***

Stuart did took his sweet time getting used to the household.

Not the farm itself, he was able to find his way around quite easily actually, but rather the people.

Heather, sweet little girl, approached him first, eyes full of curiosity. He explained in broad enough terms that she could get, and she took upon herself to distract him with drawings and songs and little games.

The need for company was strong, even more so than his shame and introverted nature, and thus he would let himself play along with Heather, help Linda with the house, sit or lay down by Paul and just share space with him.

Sometimes they drank. Sometimes they smoked. Sometimes, worse things happened. They'd let themselves cry as much as needed, hold on to each others.

***

'I feel like she hates me'

'That's odd now, I was just thinking you were into her'

'I... I meant Linda'

'So did I'

'Wh-what?!'

'Well, yeah. She's rather nice, don't you think? Natural blonde and all. Good photographer too. Right up your alley it seems like, doesn't it?'

'I-I don't fancy yer wife!'

'Honestly, Sutcliffe, I could care less if you did'

Stuart kissed him hard on the mouth just to shut him up.

***

They never spoke of it, the three of them. It didn't felt as though it needed an explanation anyways.

Paul and Linda loved each others. Stuart was there, he needed some love, neither of them minded it.

'God knows she would've left me ages ago if she did. Minded, that is'

'Ah, yes. John, right?'

'...John indeed'

'Bless her soul, then. Yours too, for that matter'

***

Paul had so many questions, so little answers. The smoke filling up his mind wasn't doing anything to clear them off.

'Why are you even here?' he slurred, pointing clumsily a finger in Stuart's general direction

'Hell if I know' the other groaned, just as high. 'Scotland was closer'

'You hate me'

'No, you hate me'

'No I don't'

'You did'

'Past's in the paaaaast~'

'...you're still yourself'

'H-huh?'

'Yer still yourself. John's all upside down. He's not Johnny Moondog no more. Don't wanna meddle with whatever he's got going on right now'

'Don't think he ever was, y'know?'

'Yeah. At least you still hate me, nancy boy'

'Not really. But trust me, I wish I did'

'Kick me out, Paulie boy. Yer wife and child need ye more'

'Not today'

'No, not today'

***

Stuart left after eight months, the longest and briefest of Paul's life.

He left behind a few paintings Paul kept on his studio, a series of markings that faded overtime, and a sense of sadness he had to pull away from, before it became too addictive, too dangerous.

***

More pointless, senseless McSutcliffe, yeah!

This is around 1970, after the Beatles break up, in an AU where Stuart lives but after 10 years with Astrid she calls it quits and leaves. So they mourn their losses together by getting high and maybe probably fucking. Linda is a saint for putting up with their shit, Heather doesn't really know what's happening, Mary isn't even in planning through this.

I was picturing a small epilogue in which Paul sent Stu a postcard announcing the birth of his daughter and Stu picked it as a cue to never speak to him again, but meh.

I also thought of teasing some tension between Stu and Linda because she'd remind him too much of Astrid, but couldn't think of a proper way to do it, so she stays off their way most of the time.

I suppose she'd be comprehensive of it all because she knows deep down Paul loves her but also loves John more, so if anything, Stuart isn't even that close to his heart anyways. She might be second fiddle but he's third.