𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter five: let it be❜❜

❧October 10, 1957☙

I woke up the next morning in my own bed, still in my dress. I groaned to myself, knowing I hadn't taken my makeup off. I stood up off the bed and started to walk but tripped. Due to my sleepy state, I didn't have much time to react, and I fell on top of whatever tripped me. It turned out to be John because he yelped. I stared down at his face, his features standing out to me. The morning sun peaked through my windows onto his grid in the nicest way. I found myself staring too long for a noticeable smirk to spread across his face.

"Good morin'" He chuckled.

I pushed myself off of him and frowned.

"What the bloody hell are you doing on the floor! I could've broken a bone!" I crossed my arms.

"I distinctly remember you telling me to sleep down 'ere 'cause you were afraid I'd throw up on your bed."

"You remember stuff? Quite surprisin' 'cause I thought everythin' went in one ear and out the other." I made fun of him.

"You look like a raccoon." He squinted at me.

I scoffed, "Says the bloke who looks like a caveman."

"You didn't let me finish my sentence. A cute raccoon."

I walked out of the room, "Enough, Lennon. I don't need you to try and charm me."

"Can you make me a cuppa?" He hollered after me, crawling to get his head to peek out of the door.

I sighed and walked downstairs. I started up the kettle on the stove. While that was going, I went into the downstairs bathroom to wipe the mascara from under my eyes. I looked very rough and was almost embarrassed he saw me like that. To be fair, he didn't look too proper himself, but he had a boyish charm that made it cute and not repulsive, unlike me. Maybe I'm too harsh on myself, but it's not like that's going to change any time soon. I combed my hands through my somewhat curly hair. My hair was a dark blonde, not a pretty light blonde like all the models in the magazines.

"Lizzie!" John called from upstairs.

I soon heard trampling like a stampede of wild boar come from that direction. I turned to see John heavily breathing while holding on to the door frame.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I just didn't want to be alone. Your house is creepy." He faked a shiver.

"It is not creepy! John, I oughta kill ya'."

He smiled and sat down at the table. Then he picked up an old newspaper and theatrically pretended to read it. I took it from his hands, rolled it up, and whacked his head with it. I couldn't help but laugh at his shocked face. He looked hurt that I took his paper and used it against him.

"Why'd you do tha'?" John pouted.

I simply ignored his question and checked the time. It was quarter to nine o'clock. I started to panic; I wanted to make it to the hospital. I really wanted to spend as much time as I could with my mother.

"I have to be somewhere," I said, taking the kettle off the heat cause it was whistling.

He questioned, "Where you off to?"

I emptied the water into the teapot and then poured the loose leaf into the filter. I put the lid on and left it be. I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel and set it down on the table.

"Nowhere!" My voice was shaky.

I rushed upstairs and into my room. I shut the door behind me and started sorting through my clothes. I decided on high-waisted jeans and a red blouse. I swiftly changed and then did a bit of makeup.