If You Want Me Too, I Will (Beatle Fan Fiction)

Chapter 1

If You Want Me Too, I Will (not a set in stone title) (YET ANOTHER BEATLES FAN FICTION)

Chapter 1 -

His name was Richard, and he didn't seem to know anything about anything at all, but that didn't matter to me as much I thought it would. The only thing I want in anyone is brains and the only person that would ever be an exception, is Richard.

Maybe it was the stupid smile, or the blue eyes, or the funky hair, or the simple personality. He was so strange, yet he was so easy to understand. I feel there is something beneath the funky hair and the stupid smile, as though he had something to say but never really knew how to say it. As though he was like me; maybe the empty conversations and the longing thoughts is what brought the two of us together, and drove me to madness.

He was only just a client, my first and only client and for reason you will soon understand. I know I how I saw him at first, thinking how idiotic he must be, how this was just professional, how it was just for the money that I needed to get.

I had to do the opposite of what I wanted, maybe it was sure to happen, though I don't even want to think that. What it took to get there! And it was all fate? Ridiculous...

Who is Richard though, and why am I writing about him?

And to start that, I must begin a story, as anyone else would. To begin that story, I will start with two bags and a new home.

It was a small house, smaller than my old one. The outside was a bland grey that matched the sky on most days. It had a few windows that I could make out, and two floors. I didn't really react, I stopped reacting a few months ago. There was one small car, our one small car, with it's dusty black color that matched the wheels. I set one of my two bags down and wiped my hand across my nose.

"Oh come on Danielle!" She seemed so cheerful, and I understand why, "Don't wipe your nose like that!" I sighed and nodded, feeling treated childishly for everything. I picked my bag off the grass, and watched my mother go inside the front door, leaving it open for me.

I don't seem to like that name, but I just blinked in response.

"Depressed again eh?" His smirk was unbearable, and the accent was horribly fake. It made my eye twitch a bit, but that was all he could get out of me.

"I am not depressed, Marshall," My voice was rather monotone like, which wasn't strange for me at the time, maybe it still isn't, "And you are not British," He laughed, dragging his hand across the side of his greased up bark color hair. He was so different, and I knew why. He knew too, but he didn't say it.

Marshall carried a box inside, and I just continued to look forward.

"Danielle! Please help bring things inside," She brushed past me, patting my shoulder, with a warming smile on her face. I didn't move an inch. I felt as though I shouldn't, that this meant too much, too much to me mostly.

"Her name's Dewey remember?" My brother's tone of voice bothered me but I said nothing to it, no one would listen anyway if I did. He came popping back out of the house, rushing to our small car and grabbing the

"No it's not," Her voice was loud, she hated that name. I hate the name she gave me, it's mutual really. She huffed a bit, walking over to me, and grabbing one of my bags, out of my rather weak grip on them. I turned and stared at her.

I reached out for my bag and she stepped backwards, I sighed a bit. It annoyed me a bit, I had two bags of things that are very important to me, and she just swinging it back and forth, and back and forth in her grip.

"Come on, I'll show you where your room is," Her smile was so fake. It was painfully plastered on her face, to seem like she was happy to be there. I knew, I was the only one that seem to know anything here, and I had less of a reaction than they did.