Mclennon oneshots

Wanna Be Your Man

Paul's POV

Everyone, in all the world, knew who John Lennon was.

He was the charismatic, rebellious teddy-boy from Liverpool that sung about peace and love, but broke all the rules. Charming, but cheeky, sometimes sarcastic, but loveable.

That was the side that everyone knew all too well of him. The side of him that was always smiling in photos, the side of him that answered questions in interviews and press conferences, the side of him that always made people clap and cheer for The Beatles.

But the side of him I knew, behind the confident, slightly cocky facade for the press and the fans and anybody who knew of him but didn't really know him, was who I truly admired.

***

I met John on the 6th of July, 1957. A date I didn't so much remember because it was originally burned into my memory, but because people all over the world had demanded that any fan of The Beatles would have it burned into theirs.

I knew John for a while before the day we met. There was always something about him that beckoned me, letting me know that he would be important to me in some significant way. At the time, I thought it was something about his unique, almost addictive personality. John Lennon was truly nothing like anyone I had ever met before. Or maybe it was the feeling I got whenever I saw his warm, light brown eyes, that paired perfectly with his charismatic demeanour.

Since that day, there has been very few occasions where he would let that signature John Lennon attitude just slide away completely, with something slightly more soft and vulnerable taking its place.

***

I remember once when he and I attended a party. Love Me Do was on top of the charts in America, and the room was filled with all these people, eager for just a moment of our time. Interviewers, fans, a lot of other, more well known musicians.

Our manager walked us around the hall all night, introducing us to everyone. We politely shook hands with them all, saying "nice to meet you" and answering their questions and signing autographs until the end of the night, when we had gravitated closer and closer to the bar together, barely even paying attention to everyone else at the party.

I was notorious for being a bit of a lightweight, much to the amusement of John and the other lads. The rest of the night was a blur, and I can never tell if it was because it was a long time ago or because of how far gone I was at the time.

I remember having to walk back to the hotel room we were staying in, which seemed like a fairly simple task, considering the hotel was only a few blocks away, but as the night continued it got much more difficult.

I when I stood up, the room felt like it was spinning, and I felt like falling back down again. But that's when I felt a strong hand wrap around my waist, and a familiar voice reassure me.

"Easy, Macca. I think we'd best get you back now, before we get into any more trouble," He lead me through the crowded hall, through the waves and waves of people, a few of them calling things out to us, asking for pictures and autographs. The room was still spinning, and I was leaning on John for balance. Thankfully, we walked straight out without being stopped.

As soon as we got outside, the cool air felt like it hit me straight away, in stark contrast to the room we were in that seemed to be filled with exhaled cigarette smoke and the sound of music playing in the background as large groups of people were speaking to each other, almost yelling to be heard. Outside was much more peaceful. I felt slightly more at ease. I'm not sure if it was the fresh air, or the lack of people around us, but ever so gradually, everything stopped spinning and came to a halt around us.