The Blue Danube [OLD]

- 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢. ﾐ

╲⠀╲⠀╲ ╲

⠀⠀╲⠀╲⠀☆⠀ ╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀☆⠀╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀★

april 1859

"Paul! Paul.. let me in!"

John tentatively knocked on the door. He stood on the rickety porch, hands in coat pockets, foot tapping anxiously as he glanced back and forth behind him; he couldn't stand there for much longer without being spotted so he was getting ready to bolt and hide the moment someone saw him. It was stupid - he shouldn't be here in the first place. He should come in the safety of the night where no one would spot him. But he had to talk to Paul, and make it up to him before it was too late. The sun hung low in the sky, but on the east side, the air cool and crisp like it usually is in the early morning.

John hadn't slept well that night knowing what he had done to Paul, leaving him all alone; what George had said really struck a nerve with him and he knew that he had to make it up to the younger - so he left early in the morning, glad to have not been spotted by anyone except Cynthia, who didn't say anything when she spotted him sneaking out the back of the manor, instead just watching him go, expressionless. God, I'm such an ass sometimes.

There continued to be no answer at the door, and he grew increasingly anxious standing there out in the open for anyone to see him. He really had to leave before someone caught him and recognised the expensive clothes and the auburn head of hair and glasses - photos of him had been published in the papers pretty much ever since he was born so people knew what he looked like - and dobbed him in to the newspapers or something.

Just as he was turning to leave, though, someone came around the side of the house and spotted him. A fiery red head of hair flashed in the sunlight before he came face to face with a vaguely familiar pale-faced girl.

"Hey! Aren't ye tha' boy that brought Paul home when 'e was drunk?" The girl stared at him in utter shock before growing hostile, stepping in front of him to block him from the half open window that showed the McCartney family's one bedroom. "Wait, yer the fuckin' prince of Liverpool!"

"Yeah, an' what of it? Let me pass." John attempted to push past her but she continued to block his way, glaring at him in anger; irritation started to bubble up in his throat, and he tried to keep his composure before huffing through his nostrils angrily. The fear at being seen by anyone else was rising, he had to get out of sight before this girl made any more of a scene than she already had.

"No! I'll tell the papers ye were here. Ye need ta go back to yer fuckin' castle, mate!" The young girl crossed her arms, not moving a muscle. Fucking hell! John felt fury begin to boil and he clenched his fists tightly in his pockets. She had to move right now or else.