⇾ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

Chapter Forty-Six: I'd Be Hopeless Without You

April 25, 1964

When I woke up, John wasn't beside me anymore. I didn't have the strength, nor the desire to get up, so I just laid there helplessly.

I still had a foul taste in my mouth from being sick last night. I wanted to get up and try to flush it away with water, but also didn't want to get up at the same time.

I pulled the blankets closer around myself and closed my eyes, feeding into the warmth of the cloth all around me.

A moment later, I heard John come into the room. I opened my eyes again and saw him coming towards me with a plate in his hand and a smile on his face.

"How are you feeling this morning, love?" he asked, crouching down next to me and handing me the plate, that I could now see was topped with a few pieces of toast for the two of us.

"Fine," I responded groggily, sitting up.

"That's good, then," he responded, moving so that he was sitting on the bed with me. He extended the plate out for me to take a piece of the toast, which I did thankfully.

"I think it might be best if you stay inside for a few days," he admitted. "Maybe you need a little break."

I was crestfallen at the idea, yet I knew he was right. I nibbled cautiously on the piece of toast in my hand, making sure every bite settled before I began on another one.

"Are you sure?" I asked sadly.

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "You're probably right. What's it like being normal?" I asked amusedly.

He hummed lightly for a moment, a grin playing on his lips. "I'm not normal, love," he answered.

"Maybe we were just made to balance each other out, then," I quipped.

We heard the muffled screaming of someone outside the house. John stood up and went over to the little window in the corner of the room and peeked out tentatively. The yelling intensified and he stumbled back away from the window again, closing the curtains as well.

"Ruthless," he muttered, grinning as he came to sit back down with me.

"Thanks for the breakfast," I said to him, giggling.

"Oh, anytime, love," he said happily.

"Would you like me to call Brian up to tell him you're ill?" he asked me.

I shook my head, taking another bite of the toast in my hand. "I'll call him later."

He nodded. "I hope you're not mad," he said. "I just think it's best."

I looked up quickly, shaking my head. "No, I get it. You're right. I need a break. I need to calm down."

"Hey," he said quietly, looking slightly crestfallen at whatever he had to say. "Maybe you should take some time away from here. All the fans and craziness," he said, wack g his hands. "Maybe it's all too much. Perhaps a few days in Liverpool might be nice."

I thought about it a moment. "You just wanna get rid of me, don't you?" I asked teasingly.

He smiled and shook his head. "Of course I don't. I just think it might be good for you, you know?"

"Yes, I know," I responded. "I don't know, though, John. I don't think that being alone is what I need."

He nodded. "At least think about it?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I will, I guess." I paused. "Sorry I've got to make everything so complicated," I said.

He frowned. "And how many times have I told you not to say that?"

I shrugged again. "Dunno. I just can't help but feel like it's unfair to you, I guess."

"Unacceptable," he quipped, then stopped to look me directly in the eyes, studying me up and down fondly for a long moment.

When the silence began to make me antsy, I teasingly snapped in front of his face to bring him back to attention. He jumped, like he'd fallen into a trance for a minute. "Sorry," he said, turning pink. "Got lost for a moment there—." He wrinkled his nose jokingly. "In your pretty blue eyes."

I rolled my eyes and he stood up, going over to switch our TV on, surfing through some channels before landing on a silly game show we liked to watch whenever we caught it called Double Your Money.

He hopped back into the bed with me. I sat the now-empty plate aside and curled up next to him, watching the people answer all the questions onscreen. You could see their look of irritation when they accidentally got it wrong like their entire life was going to collapse because of the loss.

After a moment, John spoke up. "You sure you don't want to go back to Liverpool for a bit? Just to clear your mind."

It really did sound like he wanted to get rid of me. I swallowed the dumb, insecure thought. I really couldn't imagine being away from him for more than a day or so. That hadn't happened in quite some time. I don't really know what I'd do with myself.

"Yeah," I answered. "I don't think it'd do anything. If anything, I'm scared it'd make it worse. I can't stand being alone with myself sometimes," I admitted.

He looked at me with what looked like worry laced into his expression. "What d'ya mean by that?" he asked tenderly, twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers.

I shrugged, looking him up and down for a moment. "Sometimes they're too loud to ignore. And they're not always good, of course. I am me, after all." I laughed half-heartedly.

"I know whatcha mean," he said, smiling sadly at me.

I nodded, looking down at my hands. "It's not the best feeling, is it?"

"No, it isn't," he answered. A pause followed the words. "But, you know that's why we've got each other, right?" he added. "So that we can help each other through it all. We need each other, don't we?"

"I'd be hopeless without you," I realized, grinning coyly.

He happily returned the action. "Your smile is so beautiful," he commented.

I blushed and then moved so that I was even closer to him. He graciously wrapped his arms around me.

He was right. We did need each other.