Saved.

Saved Ch.7

chapter 7.

By a dirty mirror that hung on dry wall was probably Diana's favorite place to stand and think. She never had time for that anymore. One week into Hamburg and she had experienced more than she would've thought possible.

The image in this mirror changed a lot. Sometimes she felt as though she wasn't seeing herself at all but some teenage girl who had somehow fallen into the rock and roll phase all because one night some beautiful bastard happened to be walking the same street.

Diana was much more than that story. She was a twist and turn of all different directions.

Although, she felt that if she were to write an autobiography, John would be the only one to understand it.

****

Sweat, tobacco, alcohol, cheap cologne.

All the scents of the pub they had visited that night.

All Diana heard were rough, German accents and as the band played, she saw the sweat fall from their temples all the way down to their necks, soaking their hair as their voices seemed to grow more exhausted by the minute.

"Alright now, Nazi bastards," John's raspy, intoxicated voice boomed through the cheap stereos, "The next band's shite, so you all may as well go home."

Roars of laughter arose from the crowd as well from the stage. Diana tried not to laugh at the crude joke, looking around at the drunk men not seeming to notice what he had even said. A small chuckle left her lips as she saw her boyfriend step down from the stage, pushing everyone out of his way to get to her;

"You have to learn to say excuse me."

"People have to learn to get out of my way."

"You're drunk."

"You're beautiful."

Her small hands seemed to fit perfectly in his large, rough ones and she leaned in to kiss his dry, bitter lips gently.

"We need to get you and the other boys to bed-"

"Since when was I five-years-old?"

Diana laughed, shaking her head as she carefully took his guitar from his hands.

"I wanted to play something for you upstage..." John began to explain over the noise in the pub, "but, the others told me if I did, I was probably a fairy."

"S'alright..." She absentmindedly plucked a few of the strings, looking around to all the intoxicated faces surrounding them.

"We could leave?" He offered, knowing she must've felt uncomfortable in a place like this, "It's hot and stuffy here, I can barely breathe."

Standing, Diana nodded, keeping the guitar strapped behind her as she found his hand, letting him escort her out of the bar.

As they headed for the door, cold air hit them like a slap in the face.

"Now, the flat is only a few blocks d-"

"Who said we were heading to the flat?"

John rose a brow, taking another direction his hand tightly entwined with hers.

"John, it has to be past midnight, who knows what could be on the streets this late." Diana had a voice of slight panic as they continued walking, "Let's just go to the flat, please, I really don-"

"Just stop worrying," he interrupted, "I'm right here, Diana, and as long as I'm here, I'm not letting anything happen to you, and I mean anything."

She took a deep breath and nodded, now taking a grip of his arm as they entered a small local park. The only thing lighting the walkways were candlelit lamps that were dimming out from the wind.

"Are you cold?" he finally asked to break the silence, taking off his jacket before she could answer and gently wrapping it around her shoulders. "It's freezing out."

"You'll get sick." She looked up. Barely being able to spot his face in the darkness and she led him to a park bench to rest a moment.

"I don't get sick," he replied confidently as he sat, taking his guitar from Diana and setting in on his lap.

She didn't argue, all she did was smile and she tried to find his eyes in the darkness.

John smiled tiredly. He leaned in slightly and caressed her cheek carefully before clearing his throat and setting his hands back on his guitar, before speaking softly;

"I figured..." He set his fingers accordingly to a starting chord, "I may as well make up for earlier, hm?"

A small smirk appeared across his lips and he strummed a perfect note as he began to sing softly, tenderly.

"Love me tender,

love me sweet,

never let me go.

You have made my life complete,

and I love you so.

Love me tender,

love me true,

all my dreams fulfilled.

For my darlin' I love you,

and I always will."

John's soft notes ended with a gentle kiss on Diana's lips and there another chapter ended on the metaphorical biography of her life.

And one in which only John could've understood.