Risky Woohoo

10 | Heroes

1957, May
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The next morning, I was still wrapped in Paul's arms. Even more so. Through the night he had managed to slide down and hug my waist so tightly I was finding it difficult to breathe. But that wasn't what I woke up from.

The smell of eggs filled the house. I tapped Paul on the shoulder, making him stir. He squeezed his eyes before opening them in a squint. "Hullo." He simply croaked. I smiled down at him. "Do you smell that?" I whispered. He released me and sat up beside me, silently looking around the room. "Haven't had breakfast in a while."

So together we went downstairs and found William setting the table. I gasped at the unusual sight. "Scrambled eggs!" Paul excitedly exclaimed from my side and leaped towards the delight. I grinned as I watched my brother come to my side and grasp my shoulder. "Sorry 'bout yer birthday. Am I forgiven?" When had he been so nice to me before? I could not recall.

I gave him a quick hug before taking my place beside Paul who was already serving himself generously with scrambled eggs, totally ignoring the toast and bacon. I giggled at the sight as I helped myself to some of everything. William had already found himself a plate and was eating away. I began eating myself and immediately felt something was off.

I looked to Paul who had the same confused look as me, and then William who didn't look faced at all. "Will?" He looked up at me from his plate. "I think you used sugar instead of salt." He laughed. "That's what it was, then." And then we all began laughing. When we had calmed down, William said with a smirk on his face: "Sugar is just queer salt."
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That was the quote we hung on to for the rest of the day. "Sugar is just queer salt, George." He laughed at that one.

As if someone had flicked a switch, the mood was suddenly changed. We were happy again, well at least not as sad. We could laugh, and we talked! I even talked to Will, about things we'd never talked about before. All of a sudden we were so much closer.

But Jim wasn't affected by the switch. He was still lazing in the sitting room with his crosswords and papers. The only time he put it down was to watch Paul play for him. I worried for him.

All of a sudden we were heroes, saving each other from the misery we were so close to falling in to. My birthday was celebrated with a present or two and games in the sitting room. As expected, the boys hadn't a clue what to give me. So from Will a handkerchief he probably had laying around (which I thoroughly washed before doing anything with it), and from Paul a bloody harmonica. 

I studied it for a while after he'd given it to me. "What'd you think?" He asked, watching curiously at my side on the bed. I smiled to myself as I put it to my lips. "Wrong side." He said as he took the instrument and flipped it in my hand. And I blew. Out came a hideous sound so I stopped immediately. Paul laughed and took it from my hands. 

He could play, apparently. He blew well. He played around with it for a while, then suddenly remembered it was my gift. He handed it back to me. "Got your spit all over it now." I joked. "As if I hadn't tried it before." He commented. I made a disgusted look which made him chuckle. "Sorry." He laughed.  

"We exchanged spit." He looked at me blankly. "What?" I was confused at his sudden change of mood. He eyes flickered around a bit before taking their place at my open mouth. He shrugged and got up. "Nothing."
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"A bonus present, you say?"

Paul smirked as he sat down with his guitar on his bed, facing me. I bit my lip in excitement watching him tune the strings and take a comfortable position.

Soon he was playing a song. Singing it too. It wasn't the best song I had heard, but it was still very beautiful. He told me it was for me, but I understood quickly it wasn't about me.

He called it I Lost My Little Girl.

I honestly had to cringe any time he sang little girl. But besides that, I was in a trance the entire time.

"Oh, that was fantastic!" I leapt towards him and engulfed him in a warm hug when he finished. I thought I must've looked like a giddy fan girl, but I didn't care. If he ever became famous, I could guarantee I would be his biggest fan, especially if he kept writing songs like that.

"Thanks." He muttered when I had let him loose, his cheeks turning a blood red. I sat myself beside him for the rest of the evening, him playing me whatever I pleased. A good birthday.
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Hmmmm, alright