We are Just Lonely People, Living Lonely Lives (Beatle Fan Fic)

Chapitre 12

Chapitre 12

"W-what?" John seemed shocked, stunned at what I had asked him. I wondered what his face said, knowing I really couldn't see it that well, it was in his voice. 

"Do you, um, well, you know, love me?" I didn't know how else to ask that, how else could one ask that anyway? I kept my voice at the low level that it needed to be, in that little room. He slipped his fingers from my hands, and I feared the worst.

"Why are you asking this?" His voice was at a higher pitch, or nervousness and fear. What was he afraid of? Isn't Johnny fearless? Or at least he was, une fois.

"The song," I answered, "The song, to know her is to love her, and you do. I thought that you were singing to me and it all seemed so real, like you were really singing for me, and no one else mattered," 

He sighed, almost mad at either himself, or me, "I...well...I mean I don-, er..." John paused for a second, collecting his thoughts, "It's just a song, sure for you but simply love, a song." Why then, why would he pick that song?

Lennon notice my confusion from my silence, and gémit lightly, "I just chose it because, well because it was a nice song, nothing more really. And, and I like your smile." I still felt like there was something more, "Maybe Rosie if you didn't take this so seriously, you wouldn't think this and then be disappointed," 

Yes, that one truly hurt, by the way he said it. He used a kind of tone that spoke more then his words, telling me to just move on, that this a complete waste of our few peaceful moments together. 

I felt utterly stupid for asking such a question. I've barely known his for three weeks, we've hardly been together a week, and I thought he loved me. It sounds crazy now that I think about him. I mean I don't even love him, right?

"You're right," I sniffled a bit, "God, I feel like a la tête merde." I chuckled a bit, feeling vulnerable, "Just a song, how could I not think of that? I'll go now," I turned away from him and towards the light surrounded door. I was about to open it up enough for me to squeeze out, but his voice, and hand on my shoulder, stopped me.

"Wait, no, this all came out wrong." I stopped to listen, "I, I'm sorry if I hurt you, really, don't be mad at me." It felt too late for this to be wiped out but I just lightly brushed his hand off my shoulder, I need to try to enjoy myself before I start crying again because of that mec.

As I slipped out of the room, I did what I do best, I ran into someone else. 

"Oh! Excuse me darling," With a large smile that brightened the room really, this boy who seemed to be the life of the party itself. I quickly shut the door, making sure John didn't come out behind me and held the knob in place behind me. 

"Yes, sorry," I wanted to go home, but now I had to talk to this boy I didn't really want to talk to,"I have to go now," I went for the front door of the home, through the people, hoping not to be followed by him or anyone else. 

"Wait, wait!" This one I don't know came after me, unlike everything I wanted. He caught up to me close to the door, slipping in front of me to stop me. Damn my small height compared to most of these boys, even George somewhat. 

"You should stay! It's only just beginning and you don't want to miss out on all the fun!" I just stared at him, praying he would just let me go sooner or later, sooner. I took notice of his features, realizing he was in John's group, playing next to him on a guitar too big for him like most of the teenagers up there, except the large John. His shiny, black hair was in relation to elvis's, like most boys, and he had hazel eyes, brighter than my own. While he was taller then me, he seemed a bit younger then me, just by the bits of baby fat left in his cheeks. 

"Name's Paul, Paul McCartney," He introduced himself with another one of those warm smiles, that I couldn't help but smile back to. 

"Rosie, Rosie Carlson," I replied, now that this Paul has gotten me to change and stay basically, he gave me something in his hands, rough like John's but not as much, maybe for just being younger or something of the sort. 

"Here you are Rosie, this will make you feel better I promise. Now enjoy yourself love!" He tipped his hat at me, if he had one, and ran off, making me notice the overly large arse he carries. I chuckled a bit, feeling almost embarrassed for noticing. I looked at what he gave. 

One of the beer bottles people have been drinking from this whole time. At first I refused, nervously, in my mind, but then I realized I have nothing to live for anyway, so what did it matter? I brought the gross brown bottle up to my lips and took a small scared slip.

The liquid burned as it went down my throat, setting my body on fire for a moment before disappearing into a haze. It felt....good. I took another drink as I saw John slip out of the closet. My eyes almost burned as much as my stomach at that moment. It felt wonderful.

I'm crazy, excuse me, I went crazy. Whatever these people put into this made me go insane basically. I guess I just drank so much I just started to go into a crazy haze. Everyone else was though too, not like I was alone on this. 

As the night went on, the more fou people, and myself, got. I saw Paul again, this time both of us very drunk of the sort, and we joked around about burning the house down for fun. I hoped he wasn't normally like this, and that he knew I wasn't like this normally. 

John was the only person I seemed to notice that wasn't drunk or crazy. He would watch me from the distance, whenever I would be able to notice him from where ever he was. His chocolate eyes would stare deeply at me, not worried about anyone noticing because everyone barely could see anyway.

The night got fun for a while, but then things began to get worse, the down hill run so to speak. My mind began to ache, my eyesight got worse, my hearing more acute, it was not a pleasant experience to go through.

It got to be about midnight, and things got worse. People began to nearly riot on the street, throwing empty bottles or other items of dangerous trash around the street and into other people's homes. I guess someone call the coppers because soon people began to run around, screaming, trying to get out without being arrested. 

I laid out on the couch of his home, tired and hardly aware of what's going on around me. My ears started to die, everything in a fuzzy sound around me. I smacked my lips a few times and blinked some as well.

"Rosie!" John came up to me, shaking me slightly. I looked over at him, and grinned some at him. I heard his voice before I saw his mouth move, so it all seemed very out of sync in my mind. 

"I don't know, what's happening... John?" I breathed in and out at each pause, talking slowly because of how my mind was slow at this point in time, it was like my eyes and ears were sick, while everything else seemed well. 

"Oh god," His hand slowly rubbed his forehead, back and forth, en continu, "I just need to get you out of here before the coppers take you." At that point, I truly had no idea what was happening around me, all a strange blur of colors and people. 

"I can't walk though," I was too tired and out of place too. He sighed at me, seeing how I was more or less correct in this situation. 

"Guess I'll just have to carry you," This surprised me, there were others around, people who knew John and me, people who don't need to find out about us. Yet, that didn't really seem to matter much to John, maybe he know no one would really care with all this chaos. 

He slid his arms under me, one under my knees, and the other under my back, before he lifted me like I was light as a feather. John carried me though the people, as they freaked and screamed. I didn't seem to look at them though, only John's straight forward face as he moved. 

Before I could blink, we were outside, where there was more people out there. He began to run, not wanting to be caught by anyone, and held onto me tighter, as he carried me home. No one has ever even want to hold me, no one except him. 

I shut my eyes for a moment, and was lost out of consciousness