After our vacation had ended, it was back to England for us. Many fans greeted the lads when we arrived, and, of course, I was hidden behind Brian. When I returned to Paul's house that evening, I tucked my plane tickets into my traveling box.
It was back to work on new music, and many shows all over Great Britain. I was constantly writing reports, and my fingers were always stained with ink. Paul always had his guitar or bass around his shoulders, playing and memorizing new songs. My birthday passed by quickly, and Paul got me a cake. I refused his offer to get me something special. He had bought me so many lovely things, and I couldn't even think of asking for more.
I found bliss in realizing that the notes and flowers had stopped once I arrived back in Liverpool with Paul. It wasn't him, and I found reassurance in that. I felt safe around him. He was everything that I had ever wanted.
Right?
Some things just didn't always feel the same...
Around June, I noticed his hair was growing a bit long. "Paul, you need a haircut." I turned him around and examined his hair in the back, which was a bit wild.
In fairness, he turned me around too. "I think I might not be the only one."
That afternoon, I got my haircut and waited with Paul to get his. I only got a trim, for I preferred my hair long than short. When he was able to, he wasn't really sure how to explain the way he wanted it to the old man who was cutting his hair. Looking at me for help, I picked up a magazine from the waiting area, pointed to the Beatles on the cover and said, "He wants to look like this boy right here." Paul smiled at himself on the magazine. The old man got to work quickly. He never mentioned knowing if he recognized Paul or not, which made us laugh a little.
June and July came to pass and soon we were off to America once more. Everything seemed so dizzying, and August went by in a blur. The lads were doing shows almost everyday, and flying out or driving right after. They got little rest and we sometimes very irritable, but things continued to go on.
I began to wonder what I would have been doing then if I hadn't gone back in time. Technically, I was eighteen. Would I have been preparing for college? Though, did I have the money to pay for it? Would my father still be there, or would there be a day where he leaves us? The thought made me wonder more. He was my father; should I be happy that he was gone or sad?
Though, my thoughts were quickly surpressed by more reports to write. I was thankful for the work. It kept my mind off of the future, the life I had to forget.
Right at the beginning of September, I found peace and quiet for once in the hotel room. The lads were out, and wouldn't be returning for an hour or so. Deciding to take a bath in my own room, I locked the door to the bathroom so if the lads returned early they wouldn't walk in on me.
While I was soaking in the hot water, someone knocked on the door. I was about to shout, "What do you want now," when John said: "We're back. Brian wants you to organize some of his files and sharpen his pencils."
Sharpen his pencils? He must have been running out of jobs for me to busy myself with.
"I'll be out soon," I sighed.
After drying myself off and brushing out my hair, I pulled on my skirt and blouse. I walked out to see John Sitting on my bed. Not smirking evilly. Not planning to humiliate me. Just sitting there, like a puppy waiting for its master to come home.
"Um...can I help you, John?" I asked.
He shook his head, pleasantly staring off into space. "Can I help you, Elle?"
"No," I said, a bit too firmly. I sat down at the vanity and picked up my raindrop locket. Smiling, I examined the picture of the place I could have easily called my home. My home, Liverpool. Turning back to John, I asked, "Actually, can you put this necklace on me?" I sat down next to him on the bed.
John took the necklace from my hand. I pulled my hair over my shoulder so it wouldn't get caught. A moment later, he gasped. "Elle, what happened to your neck?"
I mentally scolded myself for forgetting. How could I have been so careless? Now he had another thing to tease me about.
I turned around to face him, only to find sincere concern in his brown eyes. Where was the brash John Lennon I knew?
"What happened?" He repeated.
Looking down at the bedspread, I pushed my hair back, blushing scarlet. "I didn't want you to know..." I whimpered.
"Elle, please tell me." John was practically on his knees.
After a moment, I said, "It's my dad. He gets so angry sometimes. He would have hurt Mom..." I tried to speak fast before my voice broke, but it did quickly. I hated to cry in front of John. It was as though I was betraying a weakness.
Though, that didn't seem to matter to John. He reached out to me and held me in his arms. Something he had never done before. "I wish I had known. I could have done something." He held me at an arm's length. "When...if you go back, you've got to do something about this."
"I can't. He's stronger than I am. I won't win." I cried.
Looking me in the eyes, he demanded to be listened to. "You can. You have to." But then his tone changed. He bent down to whisper softly in my ear.
"You're too beautiful to be beaten."
Everything hit me like a massive tidal wave. All of the letters, the dates and the flowers. The kiss in the closet. Why wouldn't it be?
My voice felt strangled. "It's you."
A small smile appeared on his lips as he began to kiss the bruises on my neck, gently, so I wouldn't feel the pain. I almost wanted to say, "Who is this stranger," but I didn't want him to stop.
So this was the man I never truly saw. The real John Lennon.
John was good at making all the pain and the ugliness go away. He had never been this gentle with me before. He was close enough that I could smell his shampoo, mixed with faint cigarette smoke, which was more comforting than intoxicating.
Once he had stopped, I did something I never thought I would do knowingly.
I leaned up, and kissed John.
As soon as our lips touched, I felt electricity course through my veins. He gave me this feeling that no one, not even Paul, could. He broke the kiss, but barely, because his lips still brushed mine as he spoke. "I'll protect you. I won't let anyone hurt you." I kissed him again in response. They were long kisses, each of us pulling away breathless. I whispered his name into his lips, which only made that electric feeling stronger.
Suddenly, he laid me down on the bed, continuing to kiss me. but not as gently. I knew hundreds of other girls would die to be in my position, but somehow I knew that the only girl he wanted to be with was me. I ran my hands through his hair as he deepened the kiss. Only for a moment did John stop, just so our gaze could meet, brown eyes staring into blue. Then we continued to snog.
It only took one moment for our little moment to come to a screeching halt.
Paul walked in.
"Hey, Elle, I need-" It was then he noticed us, the look of hurt on his face breaking my heart.
"Never mind." He said, giving me another gut-wrenching look and leaving as fast as he came in.
I wanted to go after him and tell him I didn't mean to and that it was all a hilarious misunderstanding, but I couldn't.
Because I was the one who kissed John.
It was my fault.
What had I done?
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Brian was walking down the hall from his room when Paul ran out of their hotel room, tears blurring his vision. The manager caught the young Beatles arm and said, "Slow down, now. What's wrong?" The boy just yanked away and continued to walk angrily. Soon he had a follower. John chased after him.
"Paul, it wasn't her fault. It was mine. I was sending her notes before this happened. She didn't know it was me, and she didn't say anything because she didn't want to hurt you-" Paul shoved his partner away from him, but stopped walking.
He had never felt so sad and angry since his mother passed away. "I trusted you. You knew how I felt about Elle and you went and tried to make her yours anyway!" He shouted. I had ran down the hallway towards the two men.
Paul turned to me. "And you...you're just as bad as him! I gave you everything I had! If you had said the word I would have married you! But no, no," he laughed bitterly, "not anymore." The younger Beatle took a step closer to me, and I saw John tense up.
"We have a word for girls like you, Elle: whore." Paul spat. I didn't know what to say. It was true, and my whole world seemed to be falling apart.
John shouted at him for calling me such a thing. I stood there, completely frozen. It was wrong to shout 'I'm sorry', though it was what he wanted, but John was there. It would break his heart to hear me beg Paul's forgiveness in front of him. I cared for both of them. And there was George...
Who knew I could get two Beatles to hate me in so little time?
Paul left as quickly as he had came into my room. I was still stuck there, unable to move. John was trying to say something to me, but either I didn't hear or it wasn't registering in my mind. I stumbled back into the wall. I felt helpless, like I was up on Pont d'Alma once more, staring down on the dark water of the Seine. I covered my eyes, trying to hide the tears from John.
"Elle...Elle, please listen to me. This isn't your fault. I influenced you through the notes and flowers." I wiped my eyes as John tried to comfort me. However, it wasn't working very well.
"John, I'm...really sorry, but...I think I need some time alone. It's not you...but I'm...I'm just...not well right now." I turned my back on him, the tears freely flowing down my cheeks. That night I finished typing Brian's reports and gave them to him without a word. George found out what had happened from Paul, and they didn't say a word to me all night. Ringo only spoke a few words to me. John didn't say much, but was always by my side until I went to sleep.
He wanted me to stay with him that night. He would feel better if I did, he said. I told him that he was sweet, and kissed his cheek, but I couldn't accept the offer.
Though that night, I dreamt that I was being chased by people that I couldn't see. Their shadows jumped at me, but then recoiled only to do it again when I wasn't expecting it.
As if on cue, a few moments after I woke up frightened, my door opened. "Elle?"
"John?"
I heard him shut the door, and then the weight of the bed shifted a bit as he crawled in next to me. Wrapping his arms around me, and pulling the blankets closer to us, he kissed my forehead.
"You didn't have shout at Paul for calling me that. George...when we came here the first, he called me a tramp. He's right though. They both are. It's not right of me to do this to both of you. George hates me now." I whispered. He didn't answer me, but nuzzled his nose into my neck.
Then I added: "I can't believe it was you. I never thought you would...I thought you despised me, John."
He sat up. "Why would I ever despise you? Elle...I-I love you," he said. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't speak.
"You don't have to say anything." John whispered in my ear, which, to be honest, made my heart flutter. He kissed my neck again, always gentle. "You should sleep. We're flying again tomorrow, and you need the rest. Goodnight, Elle."
"...Goodnight, John."
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Did you guys think it would have been John?
He's so cute like this :D
Peace and love,
Luna <3