My Love, My Drug, My Release

March 12, 1969

I nodded, following him out to the waiting limo, already eager for this day to be over.

Paparazzi weren't allowed inside the Marylebone Reister Office, which I was infinitely grateful for. Actually, the place was almost entirely empty, just the officiate and a handful of witnesses. We had to wait a while for Paul's brother, Michael, to arrive, and then the process began, papers were signed, they kissed, and Linda grabbed my hand, rushing me out.

"Is that it?" I asked, slightly confused.

"Well, we have to go to the church to have the marriage blessed, but then that's it. We'll have some friends and family over at the house to celebrate later."

"Is John coming?"

"No, I don't think any of the band is."

"Were they invited?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice making it seem like she definitely did know and didn't want to tell me.

Paul came up behind her, pecking his lips as they faced the flashing lights. We had to take a pause for them to answer a few questions, weird ones like how did he feel about the thousands of girls crying over him no longer being the last single Beatle, where would they be living since Linda was known as a Manhattan socialite, and, lastly, if Paul was excited to have a daughter. I froze, thinking they'd seen Linda's baby bump through her jacket before realizing they were talking about me.

"Ecstatic," Paul said, smiling down at me, smoothing a hand over the top of my head.

The reporter paused, perhaps expecting more of an answer, and the newlyweds took advantage of the gap in questions, making a beeline for their limo, closing the door with a satisfying slam.

"I can't wait to leave this city for good," Paul said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

The pair exchanged a glance, then Linda said, "Don't worry about it honey, we'll tell you later."

I folded my arms, not wanting to pout, but I hated being left out of the loop. Something about their expressions and tone made me think this was a big, life-changing decision they were keeping from me, and I felt myself seeth with rage. How dare they use me to make their family seem happy and unified to the press and then turn around and put me in the corner like a child? If Paul were really 'ecstatic' to have me as an adoptive daughter, he wouldn't lie to me.

"Can you drop me off here?" I asked, pointing to an apartment building we slowly passed on our way to St. John's Wood church, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

"Why?" Linda asked.

"My friend lives there; I want to see them." I kept the pronouns neutral and specifics vague because I didn't trust myself to lie; I wanted to see Brandon.

"But the day's only begun, don't you-"

"You asked me to come to the ceremony, made me dress up, I took pictures with you, and now I want to go see my friend."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but Paul put a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. "Of course, darling, go relax, the photographers can be a bit ruthless."

I thanked him, climbing over his lap to get out the right side of the limo, scampering through the gridlocked cars, and sprinting up the stairs to Brandon's room. After pounding on the door for a few seconds, he answered, hair pushed back from a recent shower. Before he could even ask what was wrong, I through my self into his arms, tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn't bother trying to explain why Paul and Linda's wedding made me so angry, or why my anger turned to sadness so quickly, or why I couldn't just be content- not happy, content- for a few fucking hours. I didn't have the words, and he wouldn't understand anyway. 

He lifted me up, carrying me over to his mattress, lying me down and settling between my legs, doing what he thought would ease my pain. "Don't worry," he whispered. "We'll be out of this shithole soon, Lo, I promise. I love you, I love you, I love you."

I haven't checked in with you guys in a while, so I wanted to do that now. I've been having a bit of a tough time (I stopped seeing my most recent therapist because he wasn't helping me and mostly making things worse) and I've also been experiencing a bit of writer's block. 

Between freelancing and fanfiction, I don't have a lot of time to work on my own stories and I haven't even finished reading a book in months. I don't really know what to do because I don't feel inspired for any of my original works, and even some of my current fics require a bit of effort to write new chapters for. I'm really grateful to Wattpad and everyone who reads because it makes me want to update more frequently and this story is more than 2/3 finished with the ending planned because of that, but I also feel a little depressed at the same time. 

The whole time I've been writing fanfiction, I kept telling myself that if I wrote a good, mostly original story, eventually I could change the names, dates, and some of the specifics and try to get it published formally as a novel, but now I don't know. I didn't plan ahead so this book is so long and meandering, and it would take a lot to condense it and edit out all the elements that reference the Beatles. I enjoyed writing it and I'm proud of my work, but it breaks my heart to think it might never leave this site.

Anyway, thanks for reading, sorry for writing this obnoxiously long author's note, but I needed to vent. Love you all, and I'll see you in the next one.