⇾ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

Chapter Fourteen: A Life I'd Like To Live

March 2, 1964

"I love you, Donna. I love you so much." I laughed at Johns insistence. We were cuddled up together on our bed. His head was resting on my stomach and my hands were tangled in his hair. His eyes were closed. We'd finally gotten away from filming. It was only 7:30pm. Paul had gone out with Jane, Ringo, and Maureen, so that left just us in the apartment. We could vaguely hear the screaming of fans that were gathered outside of the building.

"We have to get out of here," John mumbled. "They're insane."

I laughed. "Where would we go?"

John shrugged, shifting his position to where his legs were wrapped around me. He smiled up at me amusedly. "Anywhere but here," he said simply.

"Are you looking for me to agree?" I asked with a little laugh. He nodded, reaching up to steal a kiss. "Well," I said. "I say that doesn't sound like a terrible idea."

He smiled happily. "What if we went out and bought a nice place out in the country? We could get a farm and have ten kids to make them do all the work."

We both laughed at his joke. "That sounds like a life I'd like to live."

He grinned and rested his head on my chest. I pulled our comforter up tighter around us and, before both of us knew it, we'd fallen asleep.

~~~

We woke up hours later to the door opening and then closing loudly. I tried to get up, but quickly realized that John and I had completely traded places while sleeping and his arms were now around me protectively.

"It'll just be Paul, love, don't worry," John mumbled.

"I thought we locked the door," I said, my anxiety getting the best of me.

John chuckled in the darkness. "Should we go have a look, then?"

It was midnight. John and I were still fully dressed since we had actually intended to do things before our untimely rest. It was in fact Paul who'd come in, pulling Jane alongside him, giggling maniacally and telling her to be quiet teasingly. When they saw us come out of our room, they broke into a fit of drunken laughter.

"Sorry ta wake ya!" Paul said loudly, his Liverpudlian accent more present than usual. John leaned against the door lazily.

"Macca, go to bed," he said.

"That's where we're headed actually," said Paul with a wink.

John groaned. "Stay quiet."

The couple scurried off to their room. John looked at me. "I have a feeling we're not going to be able to sleep for a while," he said apologetically.

"I have a feeling you're right," I replied.

"Well, how about we have—." He looked at his watch. "Breakfast?" He laughed. "I'm starving."

"That sounds nice," I said thankfully, only now remembering that we hadn't eaten dinner.

Something hit the wall in Paul's room and John sighed, giving me a little eye roll. He walked over to the kitchen counter and flipped the radio on, turning it up as loud as we could get it without disturbing our neighbors. I laughed.

"We've really got to get out of here," John said again and then began to hum along with the song on the radio. I didn't recognize it.

"What would ye like?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Something quick."

I held up a box of macaroni cheese imploringly. He shrugged. "That'll work."

"You're the girl / In my dreams I see," John sang amusedly, putting his arms around me as I watched the pot of water I'd just sat on the stove, waiting for it to start boiling.

He took one of my hands into his and put his other around my waist and began to sway us to the sound of the slow melody coming out of the speakers. "The one that I long to see / You mean / Everything to me, oh yes, to me."

John smiled dopily down at me as he continued. "Well, you know / I love you forever / Well, you know / I'll never stop."

I smiled up and him and he turned me back around to the pot on the stove that was beginning to boil. I absently poured the noodles into it and then he turned me back towards him and pulled me in for a kiss, muttering "I love you," against my lips. Next on the radio came a Beatles song, "Baby It's You." John pulled away to smirk down at me.

"It's not the way you smile that touched my heart. / It's not the way you kiss that tears me apart. / Uh, oh, many, many, many nights go by / I sit alone at home and I cry over you. / What can I do? / Can't help myself, 'cause baby, it's you."

The words sounded so perfect coming from him; so natural. Perhaps it was because they were coming from a speaker a few feet away in the same voice, or perhaps it was just because something in his tone told me he really meant it. I rested my head against his chest and let him guide me from side to side. Suddenly, nothing in the world mattered except for us. I zoned in on the way his chest rumbled when the melodic words came out of his mouth in his growling, but still soft, voice.

There hadn't been a time in months that I'd felt like this. John being known by everyone in the world had taken its toll on our relationship. It'd brought yelling and stress and crying and strain. It led to longing for the moments like these.

I didn't want to let go of him, not even when the song had ended. I foolishly thought that if I did the feeling would be gone for another long period of time. When he turned me back towards our midnight snack on the stove, I felt tears in my eyes.

The stress of everything was finally catching up to me. I didn't want to lose him, ever. I tried to hide it from John, but when I'd poured the noodles through the strainer, he came up behind me and put his arms around my neck, wiping the tears away.

"It's okay to cry," he said.

"I need to make your macaroni cheese," I said with a laugh. He reached over my shoulder and took the strainer off of the sink and went to pour it back in the pot, followed closely by the packet of cheese.

"It's already done." He gave a little smirk.

I shook my head in disbelief. Was this really the man I'd fallen in love with?

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"You," I replied, smiling.

He scooped some of the food we'd made into two bowls and handed one of them to me. "Bon appétit," he said with a crooked grin.