⇾𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Chapter Ninety-One: John is Extremely Indecisive

August 21, 1967

John's POV

I pulled up to Paul's feeling confused. Today's events had really put things into perspective. Donna wasn't going to be pregnant forever. I was going to have to be a father very soon. Was I ready? I really had no idea anymore. She always assured me that I was going to be great, but I wasn't really so sure I believed her anymore.

I saw George and Paul come out onto the porch and wave to me. Knowing I couldn't hide in the car forever, I reached next to me and opened the car door before finally standing up. Then, I went to the back door and opened it so that I could get my guitar out.

"What's got your face all twisted today, then?" I heard George ask as I made my way up the sidewalk.

"And why are you late?" Paul added.

"Well, we had to go to the hospital," I said, looking up feebly as I stepped onto the porch.

For a moment, no one said anything. Paul just opened the front door and led George and I inside.

"You did?" asked George finally. "Why?"

"Donna was just having a lot of contractions," I responded. "We thought she was in labor."

"Oh," Paul said. "But she wasn't?"

I shook my head silently.

"And, are you...happy about that?" Georeg asked carefully. Clearly neither of them knew what to say.

"No...yes?...I...hell, I don't fucking know. Maybe I am. She's not even due for another month. If they had been born today, they would have had something wrong with them. I don't want that."

Paul nodded. "But you also seem a bit sad," he noted.

"Not sad, per se. I just—it made me realize that I'm actually going to have to...y'know...be a father."

Paul laughed dryly. "Took you eight months to realize that?"

I sat down on his couch and reached down to take my guitar out of its case. I didn't respond. I just plucked each of my strings and fiddled with the tuning knobs to tune the instrument. "Well, of course I knew it," I said finally. "But I guess that just put it into perspective, y'know?"

Paul nodded. "I wish I knew what to say, but I don't know how you feel in the slightest." He patted my shoulder jokingly.

"Fuck off," I said, shrugging his hand off. "Play your damn song you've been telling us about."

"No, no," said George insistently, sitting down next to me. "You sound like you need a friend."

I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "That sounded very forced."

Paul sat down on the other side of me. "No, we're just being nice!" he said.

"Well, what do you want me to say? You want me to voice all my troubles? Cry like a baby? Not happening, mate."

"Oh, come on!" said Paul. "We're being so nice!"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to say?"

"I dunno..." George began. "Aren't you happy the babies are going to be coming soon?"

"Of course I'm happy," I responded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because your wife is about to give birth to what is bound to be the most stubborn pair of children to ever walk this Earth," Paul said matter-of-factly.

"Ha-ha, funny," I replied. "It's just scary, y'know." I fidgeted nervously with my hands. "I'm gonna have to be a dad, and I just...I don't feel ready."

"Oh, John," Paul said with a sigh. "You're ready for it. You've already cut back on drinking. I know that if you can do that, you can definitely raise a couple children."

"Maybe you should have just conceived one, though," George quipped. "Would have made your life a lot easier!"

I rolled my eyes with a coy grin on my lips. "I couldn't decide if I wanted a boy or a girl. I decided to get one of each."

Paul chuckled. "Right."

"Go big or go home," I added with a smirk. "Now, I'm not going to be here forever. I've got a pregnant wife and I promised her dinner, so we better get this rehearsal started."

"Oh, right. We better get you out of here at six o'clock sharp. Donna gets mad after that."

"Yes, she does," I agreed. "Now, play me your fucking granny music."

Paul rolled his eyes and picked up his acoustic guitar. "Check it out," he began.

~~~

Donna's POV

When John came home and nudged me awake, I was buried deep in practically every blanket that was in our house. I squirmed imagine discomfort when I realized my back was hurting.

"Dooonna," John cooed.

I groaned and pulled the blankets tighter around me stubbornly. "Go away," I murmured.

John chucked. "Don't you wanna eat?" he asked me. Then, I caught a whiff of something that smelled good and I lowered the blanket.

"Maybe," I replied.

"It'll make you feel better!" he said persuasively.

Slowly, I sat up. I stretched my back to try and make the pain more bearable and then looked at John imploringly. "What'd you decide to get?" I asked him.

"I got fish and chips," he responded, slipping his shoes off and sitting a white paper bag down in front of me.

"Yum," I said, reaching for it while he quickly changed into pajamas and climbed into bed next to me.

"Can I have mine?" he asked teasingly as I got ready to dig into my food.

"Oh, right," I said and took the bag to hand it to him.

"You've also got a drink," he told me, gesturing to my nightstand. I turned my head and saw a white cup sitting on top of it.

I smiled. "Thanks, John," I said, leaning over to place a jokingly sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Aww, you're welcome, my love. You had a rough day, so it's the least I could do."

I puckered my bottom lip out, giving him a pleasant look. "You're so sweet," I teased.

"Now," he said, grinning. "Let me turn the TV on."

"It's almost eight!" I said excitedly. "Our game show is coming on!"