If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 26 - 13.Oct.1961 - 9.Nov.1961

I pushed out a long breath and nodded. "I did."

'You did?" His brow wrinkled as he looked at me, barely blinking. His hand found my hand, and he threaded his fingers with mine. I almost pulled my hand away. Almost.

"Didn't go alone. Paul's arl fella came with me." I dropped my eyes to the blanket, finding something other than his eyes to look at. "It was fine."

John tightened his hold on my hand. "Fine? Hell Liv, you've gotta give me more than that."

I rested my head against the wall. "I said what I needed to say to 'im."

"That's all you've got to say 'bout it?"

"Don't really wanna talk about it. Not now, all right?" I pushed out a long, shaky breath. "Just one of those things I had to do, and now I'd rather not think on it much."

John's eyes scanned my body like he'd done after I told him about my father's abuse so many months before...like he was worried my father had hit me again.

"You all right, Livvy?" he asked, his voice low, his neck tight. "He didn't touch ye, did he? Cause I'll—"

"Murder 'im?" I asked, my brow raised. "You've said."

"I'm not joking, did he put his hands on you or not?"

"Course not." I shook my head and closed my eyes. "He didn't look good." I remembered how difficult it had been for him to stand, how his hair had seemed thinner, how he'd said they hadn't caught the cancer early.

"You feel better 'bout it, then, at least?"

I nodded and closed my fingers around his. His thumb moved against my skin, and I moved in closer to his comforting touch. I rested my shoulder against his, allowing myself a moment to break all the rules and enjoy the feel of John against me.

We fell into a calm silence for a minute before John sucked in a breath. "Listen, Livvy. I've been thinkin' 'bout you," he said. "Think we should talk."

I didn't open my eyes. "Are you still with her, John?"

He hesitated before mumbling, "Yeah."

"Then there's really nothing to talk about, is there?"

I unthreaded my hand from his and scooted away from him. I needed to somehow get over him, if that was even bloody possible.

November 9, 1961

I stood, my back pressed against the moist brick wall in the auditorium of the Cavern Club, as the boys played their lunchtime set. The horrid smell invaded my nose, but I couldn't seem to care. It was meant to be a day like any other. And then suddenly it wasn't. My body was a bit numb as the world went on around me, but I wasn't moving. I barely existed, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

There were no tears in my eyes as I stared at John, his legs wide, and an easy smile on his lips as he played one of his favorite songs. A cig dangled from George's lips as he strummed his guitar. His hair had also gone through the same transformation as John and Paul, pushed over his forehead and looking much tamer than it once had. Pete was now the only one in the band without the same haircut, his hair a bit too curly to be flat with a fringe in the front.

Two men standing near the snack bar stood out among the birds who had come to hear the boys play. One I recognized immediately as Brian Epstein, the owner of the NEMS music store. The lads were regular customers, and I'd been there many times.

Brian Epstein stood out by a fuckin' mile in the Cavern Club. He was a well-dressed lad, with a fitted dark suit, a crisp white shirt, and a perfectly tied polka-dotted tie. His hair was cut short, with a bit of a wave to it, and he brushed it to the side. He stood tall as he watched the boys perform. His eyes were wide as he took them in, a tiny smile pulling at his lips.