Whispers [ a Mclennon story]

Chapter two: To Keep The Monsters Out

[ POV of Paul Mccartney ]

Tonights concert was especially hard. The lights on the set illuminated Johns face and shone

brilliantly off of his auburn hair. I couldn't help but look at him as I sang, although there were

tons of beautiful girls screaming my name in the audience.

At the end of our last song, i decided to change things up a bit and experementally stare right

into Lennons eyes, putting my focus entirely on him as i sang the last lyrics of "And i love her"

this time, instead of singing the lyrics as " I love "her," I sang "I love "him"

to try and provoke a reaction from John. "That should convey the message properly" I smugly

think to my self.

I see John's muscles go a bit ridgid. He has a quizzical expression on his face that for the life of

me, I cannot read ( which is saying a lot- John is usually like an open book to me.)

I hope with everything I have and a knot in my stomach that my attention wasnt unlwelcome,

that he isnt absolutely disgusted at the

idea of me fancying him. "Ah this could all fall to shit if he doesnt feel the same!"

We finish the concert and we all head out into the night in search of something to do. We end up

in a quaint little club and George and Ringo quickly melt right into the scene, laughing and dancing.

For a while im lost in the endless motion, the rythm of the music soothing me, the electrifying

friction of dancing bodies making me feel so alive. Soon I have a drink in my hand and my

inhibitions begin to melt like butter.

There are people everywhere. All sorts of young birds grab at me and claw at my clothes, wanting

me, no doubt, but I pay them no mind- I see John across the room. He sits at a table, skeptically

looking out at the people enjoying their night.

I am instantly drawn over to where he sits, he looks up at me with a dry expression and I can tell

this is just one of those nights. One of those " id rather be asleep" nights where he would sit in silence and self pity. I hated to see

Lennon like this, although it wasn't unusual.

As I approach him I hear him mumbling something to himself and cant help but wonder

"What was that John?"

Without thinking I smoothly squish into Lennons chair next to him. immediately I discover that

this chair is far too small to be shared with anyone you're not well acquainted with. He's so warm

against my leg, his scent so comforting, so,..John.

I urge him to come with me for a drink. Something to wash away his ridgidness. Something to

make him forget my actions during

the concert and kill the chance of my utter humiliation.

*** Johns POV***

I couldnt help but feel glowy inside at the fact that Paul was

actually at the bar with "me" instead of out there Frolicking with women. But who am i kidding.

He would never go for me. The fans love him because he's the "cute one" ..not me. I'm the skeptic

intellectual one that half the population probably doesn't agree with.

He's probaby just being a good friend and trying to make me feel like less of a party pooper

tonight..but what was that on stage then? Was he joking with me? Maybe i imagined it all..

***- Paul's POV ***

I turn to face john at the bar. I'm slumped back, looking out to the room with my elbows on

either side of me propping me up, back to the counter. John is facing the bar with his chin resting

on his palm. I feel so rude, thinking john actually looks adorable when hes grumpy. He has a sort

of smoulder Chisled on his face, as if hes a thousand miles deep in thought. He almost always is,

but today it shows on the outside.

" Oh whats the matter johnny? Whats got your knickers in a twist?"

I nonchalantly try to understand whats bugging him.

John seems to snap out of a daze "oh what? Erm..its just..i.."

"Get it out Lennon!"

He turns to face me and sits up a little straighter,

" Im not feeling well, got a bit of a headache" he states matter of factly. I sigh, I can tell that's a lie

and we both know it.

I decide to drop the topic for now, " if he wanted to tell me about it, he would." I reassure myself.

It gets to a point in the night where we've both had our fair share of drinks. It's good thing John's

apartment is within walking distance, I've had to crash there on several occaisions in which I'd

been too drunk to make my own way home. Ive grown quite fond of his sofa.

***-John's POV***

I give up on trying to work out my Mccartney issue when I've lost all sense of reason to alcohol.

I'm pretty sure that Ringo and George headed home, but what do I care?

"I think im going to be lonely tonight" I say to Paul

" Not if I follow you home!" He teases.

" No really Mccartney..I'm afraid of the monsters" my drunken mind is making no sense- what i

really mean to say is-

" Stay with me so that i dont have terrible nightmares. Don't leave me alone with my own painful

thoughts"

Paul leans in and whispers in my ear, his soft lips grazing my jawline on the way there.

"Want me to keep the monsters out? " Hes got a mischievous little smirk after hearing his own

words. I look up at him with wanton childlike eyes.

"Please. Don't..don't let me be alone" if i hadnt been made so suddenly vulnerable, i would have

probably realized the "opportunity" in this situation- Paul Mccartney, drunk, coming back to my

house. Oh lordy lordy.

I couldn't help that i was damaged goods. I couldn't help that my dislike for the world did not

exclude myself.