It wasn't until a week later on his way back from his summer job that he saw him. Paul worked at the local tutoring center downtown. He helped kids study for their college entrance exams and also helped them with their college essays. He also led a community book reading as an outreach program to teach people to read and to give them a chance to hear both Shakespeare and Patterson. Paul half-hoped that John would show up, since Mike told him John might be homeless. Paul had parked a little farther down from the tutoring center than normal since his normal parking at the small university was full. Something on his right caught his eye. He stopped in his tracks to get a better look.
John scrounged through the trash hunting for anything he could eat. He hadn't eaten anything proper in about three years since he graduated art school and failed to find a job. Nobody seemed to want someone with a degree in art. It's the way it worked. He'd certainly gotten skinnier, losing all the love handles and extra pudge on his stomach. John was happy about that, but he didn't look a healthy skinny either. His eyes sunk into his head and his body felt weak. The hair on his face and head wound in disgusting knots laced with food and other stuff from the armpits of mother nature. John scared people off and he liked it that way.
"J...John?"
No, John thought, it can't be. He turned around and came face to face with Paul McCartney holding a coffee and a bag. John couldn't believe it. He knew he recognized that voice. Paul was there. He suddenly felt all the anger and the hurt and the longing creep into his thoughts. He looked good. The laugh lines prominent on his eyes stood out to John. Paul even had those when they were fifteen. Part of John wanted to run to him and never let go and another part wanted to kick him in the balls.
Paul spoke again, his voice small, "I, uh, here. I haven't drunk or eaten it." He held out his bagel and tea from the shop on Third Street. He couldn't believe the condition John was in. He looked so tired and dirty. Paul wondered how long he'd been living on the streets. He blamed himself for this.
"You." John's voice was rugged and angry. "You think I want your help, you bastard? I don't need your fucking charity. Fuck off, McCartney. Go back to your comfy silver spoon and leave me alone."
"John, please, it's..." Paul pleaded in vain.
"No. Fuck you, Paul. You can take your piss and your shit and shove it up your ass." John turned back to the trash can, rummaging through it. He almost turned around and apologized. Almost. He had to stand his ground against Paul. John didn't realize the power Paul still had over him.
Paul sat the tea and bagel down on the ground. "Fine." Paul stalked off, leaving a disheveled John gripping onto the rim of the trashcan. John heard a car start from a distance. Of course Paul was well-kempt. It wouldn't be Paul otherwise. He wanted to believe Paul had a reason for running away without so much as a goodbye or an explanation. But he also knew that everyone leaves. John decided to seek out advice on whether to let Paul explain or just leave it and he knew exactly who to go to.
~~~~
Paul slammed the door and kicked the wall out of frustration. He watched the cat take off in fear down the hallway. He started to chase after her when a noise came from the kitchen.
Mike appeared around the corner, munching on a cookie from Paul's stash. "I take it work was crap today?"
"No...wasn't work." Paul mumbled. His eyes shifted down to the cookie in Mike's hand. "Is that one of my cookies?"
"Yeah. You really should hide them better." Mike jested, trying to cheer Paul up. He had a feeling he knew what was wrong.
"Go get the whole jar. I'm just going to eat them all." Paul fell onto the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head throbbed with a mixture of guilt and self-hatred.
"What happened Paul? Was it John?" Mike pushed his brother, trying to move him over. "Budge over." Paul wiggled to the left to let Mike lie down next to him. He draped his right arm behind Mike's neck, letting his hand rest on his upper arm. Paul was glad Mike didn't care. He needed someone to talk to.
"Yeah. I, uh, saw him today. Digging through the trash. I offered him my food and he pretty much threw it in my face." Paul dragged his hands across his face. "I don't want to give up, Mikey. You should have seen him. It was horrible. I've never seen him so...so...broken. God, it's all my fault. I did this to him."
Mike nudged Paul with his head. "Paul. Come on. If anyone's to blame, it's our father. Try again and make John understand. Tell him if you have to. I know you'll get through to him. You always do."
"Oh sure, 'Hey John, so yeah I left because I murdered my father. I hope you understand 'cause I still love you.'" Paul groaned, "That's when he'd probably punch me and tell me I'm a sick bastard or something."
"Which part would he call you a sick bastard for? The murdering or the 'I love you' part? My bets on the I love you."
"Miiiikkkkeee...."
"Alright, sorry. I'm just trying to lighten the mood here, depressing Dan."
"I know you are, kiddo. I appreciate it. I just need to get my mind off of it I guess." Paul confessed in a sigh. He really did love that Mike was here. Mike could take all of his attention.
Mike squirmed in excitement, elbowing Paul in the ribs. "Then let's go to the mall! I have dad's credit card and an appetite for authentic and expensive Chinese food. Also a need for new equipment, which is why I even have the card."
Paul rubbed his side. "Ow. Which dad's card do you have?"
"The gay one."
"Shut up." Paul pushed Mike off the couch. He fell with a thud. The brothers laughed in unison while Paul grabbed his car keys off the counter. Mike tackled Paul from behind, wrapping his arms around Paul's waist in a hug.
"Thanks."
"Love you too, Mikey."
****
John dragged himself down Broadway to find Sarah. The people he passed put their heads down. He wished he had this type of power when he was in school.
Sarah'd been on the streets longer than anyone. When John first found himself without any type of support, she showed him the ropes, gave him advice, and gave him food and shelter until he could take care of himself.
He turned the corner on Third Street to a small area behind one of the old historical buildings. John loved going to the city in the historical district. The park there relaxed him. Gave him hope. He made wishes into the fountain, praying one of them would come true. He fought the urge to admit that one of them did.
"Sarah! It's me, John." John announced. Around him was several empty boxes which he knew housed newly homeless folk. John only knew those boxes so well. Especially that one in the corner, now on loan to an elderly man. So many nights he had spent crying, wishing his life had taken another turn. He could've been famous. John Lennon was destined for something greater, yet, here he was, alone, starving, and lovesick.
He started to head back when Sarah came out if the shadows on the makeshift cane she made out of an old oak tree branch.
"Had to make sure it was you, sonny." She crooned through rotted teeth. By no means was Sarah attractive. Her skin wrinkled in places John didn't think could wrinkle. John knew she'd been on the streets for at least thirty years, surviving winter after winter and summer after summer. He honestly didn't know how she was still alive. John thought for sure he'd be dead in a year or two. By weather, hunger, murder, or something else he often contemplated.
John pushed back the hair out of his face. "It's me. I need some advice."
"You were always my favorite, Lennon. What can I do for you?" Her remaining teeth made John shiver every time. It was hard to see past her looks. John thought deep down she was wise.
"A, uh, friend of mine who I, um, used to be intimate with has found me. H..they wanted to help but they just hurt me so much. H... they might have a reason for doing so, I just...what was said..." John had to look away. He wouldn't let Sarah see him cry. You can't cry in front of her. It's a sign of weakness.
"Use him."
"Use him? How do you mean?" John asked surprised by her quick answer.
"If he's got money. Use him. Hurt him like he's hurt you. When he starts to think he's making progress on you, break his heart. Steal, cheat, lie. You know my motto." Sarah said through wide eyes, "And think of me, my dear. This is my advice. I expect something in return."
"I never said it was a he."
"Please. I always know. You used to mumble the name 'Paul' in your sleep." She spit a piece of something from her rotted teeth.
John quickly changed the subject. "Uh, so use him. What do you want? Booze? Money?"
"Both. Maybe a cooked meal or two?"
"Fine. Thanks, Sarah. I knew I could trust you." John smiled ruefully but felt a small twist in his stomach which he blamed on the fish he ate from an apartment trashcan.
****
"What about these? They're blue." Paul held up a pair of training shorts for Mike. He never realized how much of a pain Mike was to shop with. He wouldn't try on anything nor would he even give an ounce of consideration to anything Paul picked out. He held up colors and brands from all over the store only to be met with an annoying 'eh'.
"Nah. Not those. I already have blue ones and that brand doesn't fit me well." Mike reasoned. He knew how aggravated he was making Paul. But he also knew he wasn't thinking about John, which was the ultimate goal.
Paul growled at his brother, "Mike! They're just going to get all muddy and gross anyway. Why does it matter the color?"
"Because."
"Perfectly logical. Twit." He folded his arms across his chest and continued looking for something Mike would wear. "Here! What about these black ones? It is a neutral color. No one will make fun of you or whatever you're anal about."
"Oh. Those are good." Mike rubbed the fabric between his fingers.
Paul faked astonishment. "Have I... have I finally appeased you my lord? I must take this time to..." He started to kneel on the floor.
"Can it, Paul. You're embarrassing me."
Paul crinkled his nose in amusement. He missed teasing his little brother. "I thought you said I wasn't embarrassing."
Mike rolled his eyes as Paul chuckled. He followed Mike up to the cash register to pay for the ball, shoes, socks, and shorts it took them an hour and a half to find. Paul noticed his stomach rumbling and was ready for the expensive Chinese restaurant. When Mike had paid Paul offered to carry his bag.
"It's the least I could do as your trusty steed." Paul quipped in an overt posh accent.
"Shut up, Paul. Cassie is walking this way." Mike adjusted his posture. He stood up straight and puffed out his chest to which Paul snorted.
"You don't need to do that, Mike. Just be yourself."
"I have to do something standing next to you, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome." Mike whined in a whisper.
"Mike, might I remind you that they are thirteen and I am 23? Also, I'm pining for another man?"
"They can still think you're attractive!"
"Mike, they..."
"Shhhh! Hey Cassie!"
"Hi." She responded not taking her eyes off Paul.
Sensing the awkwardness of the present situation, Paul intervened. "Well, wish we could stay and chat, luv, but my brother here promised he'd help me pick out a birthday present for my boyfriend." He flashed a brilliant smile at the thirteen-year-old who's eyes widened and broke in defeat. Her eyes then shifted to Mike. She realized Paul had said 'brother'.
"Uh, yeah. We have to go. I'll see you at school." Mike pulled Paul away quickly towards the restaurant. "Did you see the way she looked at me! I think I have a chance."
"I'm not going to tell you not to go for it. But, don't. She's going to use you, Mike." Paul explained. "I know what that's like. You know: Dot?"
Mike slouched dejected. He knew Paul was right. His older brother spun him around to face him.
Paul delicately smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, now, that doesn't mean give up. There are other fish in the sea, you know."
Mike's upper lip twitched. "That's rich, coming from you, future Mr. Lennon."
"Hang on, what makes you think I'd take his last name?" Paul raised an eyebrow expectantly at Mike.
Mike laughed. "Please, Paul. You know why."
"No I don't. Pray, do tell."
"I know that when you first kissed John, he had you pinned up against the wall in a locked closet."
"Who told you?" Paul's voice raised slightly which attracted attention from other mall-goers.
Mike cringed. "Dad. By accident, I kinda coaxed it out of him."
"Which one?" Paul asked and then added, "You know what? Never mind. Neither of them are getting a father's day gift this year." He winked at Mike. "No, I guess you're right. If it even comes to that..."
Crap, Mike mentally kicked himself. "Uh, hey, let's eat, I'm starving! Desert's on you though."
Paul chuckled. "'Course. I wouldn't have it any other way."
~~~~
The brothers left the restaurant full and giddy. Paul had his right arm squeezing the younger one's shoulders while Mike told a story about how he pranked his teacher. Paul was proud. He didn't care that the teacher ended up face first on the ground. He saw how happy Mike was and how amazing he turned out to be. Mike had so much to live for now: Girlfriends, scholarships, college... Paul couldn't be happier, even if John wasn't there to see it. No matter how much John used to tease him about taking care of Mike, he secretly loved the little guy. Paul remembered how John adored the fact that Mike followed him around like a puppy. Mike would do anything for John, get him some tea, clean up his plate, put on a record... Paul pulled Mike in a little closer. He was so involved in Mike that he didn't see the figure huddled on the ground with a rusted tin can and a sign begging for money.
"Paul! Hey, Paul!"
Paul ignored the voice, thinking it wasn't anyone he knew. It sounded gravely and wheezy and almost like a drunkard. He walked a little faster, still hearing the voice. Mike looked terrified which prompted Paul to start running. He heard a thud and a cease in the calling and an increase in coughing and wheezing. Paul chanced it and turned around.
"JOHN!" He rushed back with a stunned Mike at his heels, "Mikey, call the paramedics. Now!" Mike dialed emergency with shaking fingers. John was motionless on the ground. Paul checked for pulse and breathing which he didn't find. He began CPR, trying not to think of the smell coming from his former lover.
"Come on, Johnny. Not like this." Paul kept going, checking every two minutes for any sign of life.
When the paramedics took over, John still didn't have a pulse. The paramedics applied an AED, giving Paul the first look at John's state of being. He wanted to run, run far enough away that no one would find him. John had nothing on his body but skin and bones. Paul wanted to throw up. Everything that happened to John happened because of me.
He watched at John's body jolted under the shock of the AED. After the first two times, the AED detected a heartbeat. Paul asked which hospital they planned to take him to. Immediately, Paul grabbed Mike's hand and ran to the car.
Paul put the keys in the ignition with trembling hands. His hand lingered over the gear shift for a moment before resting on the steering wheel. He rested his head down too.
Mike was worried. Paul seemed in no condition to drive.
"He'll be alright, Paul. I know it." He spoke softly, "He has something to live for. He needs you there, even if he doesn't admit it to himself. You'll be the first person he sees. Now pull yourself together and drive."
Paul huffed. "Since when did you turn 95 and wise?"
Mike reached for the keys. "Shut up and go before I drive us."
Paul slapped his hand away. "Uh, no. I don't want to be in a hospital bed too." He took look at Mike who smiled in such a way that made Paul believe everything would be okay. Mike always had that effect on him. He shook away his fears and shifted the car into drive.