Lonely People

I Hate You, I Love You

"Just talking."

"Can we join you?" Paul asked, "It's a bit lonely in here, you know."

I beckoned them closer, "Come on, then, there's enough floor for everyone."

They obeyed. John fell to one side of Ringo while Paul fell next to me. Paul didn't hesitate in stealing my cigarette for himself. He laughed as I tried to get it back.

"Stop fighting or I'll seperate you," John threatened.

I rolled my eyes, "Gee, wonder how you'll do that."

"Don't test me, McCartney."

"What did I do?" Paul joked.

"Oh, sod off, you know I wasn't talking to you, Macca."

Ringo laughed, "They're both testin' you."

"Not you too."

John rolled his eyes, causing us all to burst into a fit of giggles. All previous tension had seemingly been forgotten. Our friendship was more important than any claustrophobia or tour stress.

The bell for the lift rang and we all looked in that direction. It was like a sideways stairs of heads, each one further out than the next. George stepped out of the lift and saw four heads staring at him from their spots against the wall. For a moment, he stared at us.

"What're you doing on the floor?" he finally asked.

John shrugged, "Floor things."

"Like what?"

"I dunno, floor things."

George sighed deeply before moving to sit next to Paul. He pulled out a cigarette and motioned his hand for a lighter, which all of us produced. He took Paul's and lit the end of his ciggie, inhaling the smoke thankfully.

We all sat in silence for a moment, simply enjoying each other's company. It was nice to be back on good terms with them. I was getting sick of being sick of them; it was like an unhealthy loop. The loop could only be broken whenever we were finally given a reprieve from touring, but we all knew that wouldn't last long.

"I'm so bloody sick of touring, it's ridiculous," John commented.

Paul sighed, "Aren't we all?"

Ringo, George, and I nodded. Ringo glanced at John and said, "It's almost over, anyways."

"Only for a while," John replied, "We'll be back home for a few months and then back on the road again. I'm sick of being stuck inside, I'm beginning to forget what trees look like."

"Come off it, John, you're over exaggerating," I said.

George smirked, "Isn't he always?"

"Got me there."

John wrinkled, "You're swines, the lot of you."

"And what does that make you?"

Paul and Ringo both broke out in braying laughter. George simply smiled as John shook his fist at me, "One more word outta you, and I'll pummel ya."

"You don't have the guts."

"I'll show you guts."

John lunged forward like he was going to hit me, but ended up in a heap on the floor laughing loudly. I leaned forward and tapped his nose, "Told ya."

"Cheeky bastard, are ya?" his eyes twinkled.

He grabbed my shoulders and flung me over him to where I fell on the opposite side of the floor. I landed with a giggle, pushing him off and laughing loudly, "Bugger off, Lennon!"