I Should Have Known Better (Sequel to That Boy)

Chapter 9

YES YES YES!!! I have been planing this chapter since last summer, for random reasons. And it's gonna kick ass!! YEAH And I guess that this chapter may or may not be long, I'm unsure.

So, onto the next chapter my dear friends...

Enjoy love!

Chapter 9: That boy might like you, but I've always loved you

Today was a great day.

Oh, and by a great day of course, I mean it was completely horrible day that I kind of didn't want happen, though I felt it would happen at sometime, just not so soon. And then everything, all my confidence, all my slight happiness, just went down the toilet within a week. 

It was January of 1963, sadly, and I was at home as always. I was laying on my back on my couch, thinking and rubbing my belly. I wondered about my child, figuring I should go see a doctor, you know just to check up on it. 

I thought about Ringo. And our kiss or something.

I mean, it was nice and all yet I hoped he didn't think that much about it. It meant nothing to me really, or did it? No, he's my friend, and I really didn't want a guy at the time. 

Alright, I admit, I am a liar. I would love to wake up in someones arms and be told that I'm loved. I want something like I used to have. Until, everything had to go wrong. Because in my life, things good things have to go wrong.

Ringo is a sweet guy, and he has been there for me. He hasn't told anyone about my baby, which I figured I could trust him anyway. I know it must be hard for him to keep such a big secret, so I am thankful he has. Rings is also just nice to me, and his kiss wasn't that bad.

I guess.

So, back to my thinking, my retarded ass thoughts and all. It was sometime that afternoon when another knock was at my door. I yawned, and sat up, rubbing my eye with my finger, forcing myself to concentrate. 

I stood up and walked around everything, reminding myself for the billionth time to clean up my stupid apartment. I looked in the mirror for a second, brushing my fingers through my hair and making it look nice. After straightening my shirt up, I went over to the door and stood on my toes to look through the peep hole.

I wondered who would be at my house, and I figured Ringo would call me, same with Lilly, so what did this person what? And as I looked, it took me a moment to realize who was on the other side of the old wooden door. 

I gasped and covered my mouth. My knees buckled with nervousness and I fell to the floor. I put my back to the door, scared of the other person. I didn't want to hear his voice, but I did. 

That sad voice flowed through the door and filled the room fast. I feel horrible for some reason, and I badly wanted to wipe that feeling away fast. 

"Holly," I wanted to cry, so much sadness seemed into my skin, "I know you're *cough* in there." He sounded so sick, I wish he would do something about it. I refused to answer the door, knowing how horrible his face looked. 

I put head against the door and just listened to what he was going to say. I wished badly he wasn't there. He was just going to try get me back and it's over. Right? Yes, it's over, it's been over for a long time. 

Few months equal a long time to the both of us, something we agree on. 

He spoke again, in that voice that was almost as bad as his eyes, "You need to know something, if you are listening." He coughed with that kind of dryness that's saddening, "Well, I don't know how to say it, just...just listen." 

He coughed a few more times, with pain, and then was quiet for a moment. At first I thought he was dead or something, I mean it was completely silent. But I had a slight feeling that someone was still breathing, barely, on the other side of that stupid door.

And then, there was music.

I mean, there was the sound of a guitar being strummed perfectly on the other side. I was surprised to hear such a nice sound after dry coughs. He might being dying but he could still play a guitar perfectly.

I listened to him, as he sung. It was strange. His voice was dead but he could still sing, not as good as before but still well. 

Strange. 

So he sang, with love and sadness.

That boy took my love away

Oh, he'll regret it someday

But this boy wants you back again

That boy isn't good for you

Though he may want you too

This boy wants you back again

Oh, and this boy would be happy

Just to love you, but oh my

That boy won't be happy

Till he's seen you cry

This boy wouldn't mind the pain

Would always feel the same

If this boy gets you back again

This boy, this boy, this boy

I knew exactly what he was talking about. It was quiet simple really, sadly. He wanted me back, but he thought that I liked Ringo, and I don't. 

Right? 

Anyway, I didn't know what I was thinking. I mean I should of just been quiet and act like I wasn't home or something, but no. I just had to respond. 

I got up from the floor, making more noise then I should have been, before I unlocked the door. I left the chain because I didn't want him to notice my stomach. I stood behind the door, except for my head, and turned the knob.

Simply put, he still looked like shit. He had a black guitar in his hands, and he looked at me, with his dead eyes. I looked back, scared to death of those eyes. 

"Did you really think that could change anything?" I blinked. He coughed.

"I just wanted you to know... um..." He was more scared then I was. 

I waited, "What?" I acted annoyed to cover the fact that I was scared.

He gulped, "That boy might like you," Ringo likes me, really? "But I've always loved you." I looked down at my feet, not wanting to respond.

But I did, "Paul, you need to just go ok? Just move on with your life already! I mean thanks to you I'm-" I stopped, that was close.

"What?" He was more worried about me then himself. Well, he always was.

"Nothing, just leave me alone. I don't love you." And I reshut the door, locking it again, and probably getting him slightly closer to dieing because of me.