"I better not catch you in here again for at least a few days, Mr Lennon." The detention woman (John never remembered her name) stared down at him with contempt from her half-moon glasses that rested on the end of her large nose, obviously greying hair framing her pale face.
"Don't count on it, miss." His smile was acerbic, and he promptly left the stuffy, dull classroom, a few other kids saying goodbyes to him as they all made their way out.
"See you tomorrow, John." Ringo smiled at him before he left, John giving a faint goodbye back as his friend disappeared out the front doors.
The hallways were barren, a sight that John was beginning to familiarise himself with, due to the fact that he was late almost every morning. The other kids that had been in detention with him were already gone, but he stayed rooted to the spot for a while longer. He wondered if Paul would actually be outside, waiting for him - he doubted it, somewhat; with their rocky last encounter, the boy probably would be long gone. But he still hoped anyway, like a bird trapped in his throat, fighting to escape. Why would he be hoping anyway? Not like he wanted to hang out with him! He was a total chuffer! Scuffing the ground with his untied shoe, he braced himself to leave the hallway, and see if Paul really had waited for him or not. But as he was about to leave, footsteps echoed through the deserted hallway and he turned to see who it was.
"Run along now, Mr Lennon. Wouldn't want to keep your aunt waiting, now, would we?" The man's kind eyes twinkled down at him as he adjusted the leather bag slung over his shoulder.
"Yes, Principal Epstein." John nodded, not really feeling up to making jokes or pissing the man off. Epstein was unfailingly kind to John, and saw the potential in him - even when John himself, did not - and always encouraged him to pursue things or get back on track when he was losing his way. It was probably the reason why he was still at the school and not expelled after being such a troublemaker 24/7. He secretly looked up to Brian, even if he enjoyed getting on him and the staff's nerves.
"I've heard you and that Paul have had some problems getting along. I hope you're trying your best to make him feel welcome at this school." Brian's demeanour turned strict for a moment as they began walking to the front doors. John felt his ears burn with embarrassment.
"Of course I am!" He protested, pushing open the doors and stepping onto the pavement.
"Alright. I'll take your word for it. Goodbye, John," The principal just sighed before nodding goodbye and leaving John alone on the front steps.
How can I explain to them that Paul doesn't exactly make it easy on me either? He thought bitterly to himself, hands shoved in his pockets. Lifting his gaze, he scanned the front area to see if Paul was there, that nervous sort of hope tightening his throat again at the prospect; but upon closer inspection, he noticed the doe-eyed boy was nowhere to be seen.
Disappointment hung like a rain cloud over his head. Of course, he hadn't really expected the boy to be there, I mean - they fought constantly and the last time they spent time together was inherently awkward and ended in yet another fight. Why would have Paul subjected himself to that again (any more than he had to, at least)? But... he still felt disappointment tug at his sinking heart. He had almost hoped that he would be there. But he wouldn't admit that to himself, of course. Not yet. Pulling himself together, he adjusted the guitar case on his back. No need to get in a twist over it! At least there are now less hours spent fighting with him. He might as well go home and enjoy himself.
Pulling out his pack of cigarettes, he shook one out; he noticed it was the last one in the packet, unfortunately. He made a mental note to buy more tomorrow. Striking it up, he took a long drag, letting the comforting acrid tang of smoke flood his lungs and spill from his nostrils. He was walking out of the school gates, veering right to make his way home - when he noticed two people across the street. A couple, nothing special. Just a young girl and boy, holding hands as they walked on the street opposite, whispering excitedly to each other.
Cynthia! He suddenly thought with a jolt. Their date! He had completely forgotten all about it, being so caught up with Paul and detention. The girl was probably waiting at her house, all dressed up for the date, upset that he had stood her up. Goddamnit, why was he such an idiot??
"Fuckin' hell.." He cursed as he rubbed his temple, picking up the pace. He glanced at his wrists to see if he had a watch, but of course, nothing. Why am I surprised? I never wear a watch. He started to run, guitar case slamming against his back uncomfortably as he discarded his cigarette, needing to get home as soon as possible. He hadn't brought the paper that had her address on it, either - and he had completely forgotten what it was. He continued scrambling through the streets, ignoring stares from the people he ran past as he entered the more crowded part of the city, booking it right to his house; but he slammed into a man when he rounded a corner, almost falling flat on his stomach, but he caught himself in time. The second time he ran into someone that week.
"Watch yourself, prick!" The man glared at him. John was unaffected, of course. Instead, his gaze darted to his wrists, and he lit up when he saw a shiny, golden watch on his left.
"What's the time?" He tapped his fingers against his thighs with an impatience, knowing he really had to get his ass moving if he didn't want to be any later than he already was.The man stared at him for a few seconds, before looking at his watch.
"4:30."
"Cheers! Sorry!" And with that, he took off. Half an hour! Not the worst thing ever. He'd been much later for lots of things. But he knew he'd better hurry so it wouldn't be any worse.
Finally, he made it to Menlove Avenue, completely out of breath and sweat beginning to break out on his forehead, having not run as fast as that for a while, the only other exception being the Bus Escapade. That was more fun than this, though. John leant on his hands for a few seconds, crouching outside the door to catch his breath, before he pulled out his house keys from his pocket. Unlocking the door, he hurried inside, door slamming behind him as he bounded up to his room to get ready.
"What's all this hurry, John?" Mimi's curious voice called from the kitchen. "You came home late."
"Had detention!" He threw back, quickly tossing his guitar on his bed and stripping himself of his school clothes; John muttered to himself all the while. "The hell am I gonna wear..?" "John! For goodnesses' sake, again?"
There were footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Sorry! Promise there'll be no more this week." He opened his wardrobe, scouring the entire selection of clothes for something to wear. "Wait, don't come in! 'm gettin' changed."
"Why the rush? Are you going somewhere?" He could almost imagine the woman standing there with her hands on her hips, demanding an explanation with one looming stare.
"Yeah. Got a date."
During their conversation, he picked out his favourite red-checkered shirt, black trousers, a leather jacket and some beat up black sneakers; perfect, John thought as he began to hurriedly pull them on. He lathered on plenty of deodorant as well, since he hadn't the chance to have a shower and he didn't exactly smell all too fresh at that moment, and after dressing - he darted out his door to get to the bathroom.
"With who? That Amelia girl again?" Mimi was standing at the top of the stairs, carrying a cup that she was drying with a tea towel, watching her nephew flit past her.
"No," He stood in front of the mirror, too caught up in combing his hair back and streaking Vaseline along the sides to really talk, willing the auburn locks to do as requested and transform into a (somewhat) acceptable teddy boy quiff. After a few seconds of trying to perfect the curls on top, he deemed it good enough and ran from the bathroom. He looked up at the clock on the wall; 4:40. I better hurry up.
"Be back by dinner!" Mimi called after him as he slid past, reaching into Mimi's purse on the drawers in the front hallway to steal a couple of pounds and a cigarette packet lying next to it before throwing the door open. "I- John Winston Lennon!" She screeched when he saw him snatch the money, storming across the hall to reach him.
"I'll pay you back! Bye!"
He sent a sheepish grin her way before slamming the door after him.
So as not to be caught and murdered by his aunt, he booked it out the front garden and down the street, checking the piece of paper with Cynthia's address scribbled on it; "Hoylake.." He muttered to himself. John hoped to god that the girl wouldn't be too mad that he was late - it wasn't his fault, exactly, because he had detention and was stuck at school. Well, it was his fault, technically, since he landed himself the detention.. but you get my point. But he hoped they'd still be able to go on the date. From what he'd seen of Cynthia, she seemed to be the forgiving type. He didn't know whether that was bad or good.
Eventually he reached the house, and he stared at it, out of breath. Looking down, he checked himself out for the last time in a puddle at his feet (it was still wet, but it had stopped raining back when he was in detention. The clouds were still dark and ominous so he figured it would rain again soon). Holding his fidgeting hands behind his back, he stepped up to the front door and knocked firmly. Dead silence followed for several seconds, and he felt the anxiety rise in his chest with each passing moment, worried that she would see him from the window and not open the door at all. He scuffed his foot against the wet concrete, hoping that it would at least be Cynthia opening the door and not her father or something. A cold shiver ran down his spine thinking of her dad answering instead.
"Hel- oh," The door opened up, and - thank christ - it was Cynthia. She looked a bit miffed and she crossed her arms as she gazed at John, obviously demanding an explanation. "John.""Hi Cyn," he started, feeling guilt wrack his bones for being so late. "I'm really sorry fer bein' late. But I had detention an' I couldn't get out 'til now." He smiled apologetically and held out a hand, tilting his head in question. "Forgive me?"
She watched him for a few seconds more before sighing, face lighting up as she took it, entwining their hands as she shut the door behind her. "Being a naughty boy, eh?"
Her eyes twinkled up at him, and they set off down the street to go to the cafe they had planned on going to together.
"You know it," he winked. He tried not to notice the way she smiled uncontrollably and giggled. "I seem to 'ave a habit of bein' late. Get locked up in detention a lot for it."
"I can see that." She joked as they walked, carefully avoiding puddles scattered across the streets. John hoped it wouldn't rain at any point on their date. "Is there anything you're not late to?" She teased.
"Any of our future dates. I can promise that, love." He grinned down at her, but couldn't help but feel incredibly awkward when she ducked her head and giggled, seemingly enamoured with every word he said. It's not every day you get to go on a date with the John Lennon, after all! According to most people in the popular kids' circle. And what Cynthia thought of him too, probably.
"Are you hungry, by the way? I heard they have really good fish and chips."
John was about to reply, but something caught his eye from his peripheral vision. His hold on Cynthia's hand loosened and he stared in shock when he saw him, butterflies exploding in his stomach and pressing against his skin as he felt his cheeks go beet red.
Paul seemed just as shocked to see him as well, since he stopped in his motion of talking to George beside him and stared, eyes wide and hungrily scanning the two on their date. George noticed Paul had trailed off, and he spotted the two he was staring at fairly quickly, expression changing to mild interest.
"You alright, John?" Cynthia spoke from beside him, snapping him out of his daze. Her hand came up to touch his arm, and he entwined their hands again.
Doing this, John noticed Paul's expression change, but he was too faraway to see it. Before he could do anything more, Paul turned away and he and George quickly left the scene, George looking back one more time before whispering something quickly into Paul's ear. Then they were around the corner and gone.
"Oh, sorry Cyn. Just ... saw someone I knew." He turned to her with a reassuring smile, skimming his thumb along the back of her hand before they started off again.
"Were those the new kids are your school? I heard people saying they were..." she trailed off, looking worried and actually kind of scared. "y'know. Ho-"
"I know." He cut her off, voice taut as he struggled to control his emotions. Calm down, John. She doesn't know about you. He took a breath, and sighed in relief when he spotted the cafe at the end of the street. "Here we are." He decided to change the subject. I know, but she still hates homos. That voice sneered in his ear again.
"Great! I'm hungry." She brightened, all traces of previous fear gone as they hurried to get into Tiffany's Cafe.
Pushing open the swinging front doors, they entered the warm, cosy building. It was modest but welcoming; checkered tiled floors, coloured black and white, and brick walls with paintings hanging up on it, and tables littered around the room, and a counter to order at and look at cakes. It was moderately packed with mainly a few young couples on dates and some adults enjoying tea and biscuits after work. Spotting a nice booth in the back corner, he led the girl to it, both slipping into the iconic red leather seats of a diner.
"What'd'ye want, love?" He asked, getting up and trying to smile convincingly when she held onto his wrist for a moment.
"A bowl of chips, please. Oh! And a strawberry milkshake." John wasn't very surprised at her order. If Cynthia could be a drink, she'd be a strawberry milkshake. He knew it was weird to think about, but sometimes people reminded him of random things in life that he then associated with said person. Winking at her one last time, he left her and made his way up to the counter. He couldn't banish the vision of Paul staring at him from across the street from his mind. What had the boy been thinking about? He had been too far away and too blind to see how Paul had reacted to seeing them hold hands. All he had seen was his expression on his slightly blurry face change before he left with hasty movements. And he couldn't stop thinking about how they almost kissed, standing drenched under the football stands. It was like something out of a romcom movie. He still felt the drip of icy-cold water down his neck, the way Paul's eyes burned into his, glittering like green suns.
"Sir? What would you like?" The cashier was staring at him in confusion. He looked up and blinked at him before shaking his thoughts way, embarrassed. He had probably stood there deep in thought, unresponsive to the worker's questions. Feeling the back of his neck burn, he ordered their food.
"Two bowls of chips, and uh.. some flake, a strawberry milkshake, and an iced coffee." The cashier wrote his stuff down and he paid before returning to his seat.
"You took a while," Cynthia commented. She looked mildly concerned for him, but he leaned his elbows on the table, smiling at her.
"Got distracted thinking about how cute you look in that spotty dress." He knew in the back of his mind he shouldn't really be flirting if he wasn't actually that interested in her, but he couldn't seem to shake the default he took with girls. Which was flirting. He just stared down at her from his half-lidded eyes.
"You flatter me." She giggled nonsensically again, obviously delighted at the praise he had given her. John didn't know why it made him so uncomfortable to see that. "You're a real charmer, Lennon. Like a lot of the other girls say." She blinked up at him through her eyelashes.
"Do they?" He commented mildly, not really paying attention when he leaned back in his seat, gaze fixing on the front door to the cafe for a moment. He didn't know why he suddenly wanted to see Paul come through them.
"Oh, yes. Seems you've dated or gone out with nearly all the girls in Liverpool." She raised an eyebrow, and he could see her eyes flash with anxiety for a moment.
"You're different." He lied. He wished he didn't, desperately so; but he couldn't stand to see the raw insecurity so obviously within her. She doubted that he would stay with her for very long. Unfortunately, she was right - he didn't know how, exactly, but she was. John felt like something else was tugging him in the different direction away from her. He didn't feel anything for her. A mild attraction maybe, but that was it, really. Genuinely, he felt sorry, but he didn't want to lead her on anymore than he already was. He vowed to break it off next week if he couldn't bring himself to like Cynthia.
-
After their food arrived, they flirted back and forth for most of the afternoon and chatted about mainly menial things before John took Cynthia home. It had started raining while they'd been inside, so John nicked one of the umbrellas out of the bucket that people had left theirs in ('John! You're so wicked!' Cynthia had exclaimed excitedly when she spotted him doing so) and they booked it out of there, running down the street and laughing all the while.
"Why does it have to rain while we're on our date?" Cynthia complained as they hurried through the streets, squeezing past other people - who were also anxious to get out of the rain - and avoiding puddles.
"Curse you, whatever gods' up there!"John jokingly shook a fist at the gunmetal-coloured sky. This made Cynthia laugh again, as expected.
He felt rain trickle from on top of the umbrella and onto his shoulder, and he watched as the drops rolled off his leather jacket easily. The memories of working on him and Paul's song, sitting on the grass as their voices mingled together filled his mind, and he felt a frustration at the fact that he had let the stubborn boy fill his brain again. John shut his eyes for a moment, trying to force the thoughts away.
The two fell silent as they reached the street Cynthia's house was on, the younger shielding her from the rain with his stolen umbrella as they halted in their footing at the front gate. Nothing was said for a few more seconds, before Cynthia turned to face him, gazing up at him through her lashes again as she smiled shyly.
"Hey, John..." The blonde-haired girl paused. "Thanks for the date. It was really nice. You're a cute guy," she grinned.
He forced himself to grin back. "And yer a cute girl."
She giggled, ducking her head again before entwining his free hand with her warm one."We should go out again sometime."
"I'd like that," He lied again, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. She looked up at him again, and pulled him into a kiss.
He stood still for a moment in shock; John hadn't expected it, but he melted into it as she ran a hand through his greasy, waterlogged hair. He rested a hand on her hip for a few moments, head tilted for better access before she pulled away, grinning madly. Her lightly-coloured lipstick was ever so slightly smudged, he noticed.
"I'll call you." He promised, smiling down at her as she slid her house key into her door, opening it up. John felt a warm gush of air from inside caress his body.
"I'll hold you to that. Bye, John."
"See you, love." They exchanged one last look before she disappeared into the house, shutting the door softly after her.
He felt nothing from that. Why didn't he feel something when she kissed him? He lifted a cold hand to his lips for a moment before stuffing it in his pocket, turning away and hurrying out of the front garden of the house. His thoughts bombarded him as he sped down the street, not really wanting to be in the rain any longer than necessary. He wanted to feel even some sort of attraction to her, anything at all! It would do him good to get a lovely, pretty girlfriend and forget about any thoughts of anyone else. More specifically, Paul. He had to forget about him and lose himself in a beautiful girlfriend. He couldn't fall for another guy and have his heart broken again. AND! The last person he would ever want to like that way would be Paul! Let alone like him at all. He was an arsehole, as if John could ever like him, anyway! That was impossible. Paul made himself impossible to even like as a friend, let alone more than that.
He had to voice his thoughts. He needed to let it out.
And who better to vent to other than his partner in crime?
As soon as he got home, shaking off the umbrella and resting it in the doorway, he pulled off his sodden leather jacket, going immediately for the phone to call Ringo.
"John! You're soaking wet." Mimi scolded with crossed arms. "Dinner's nearly ready."
"Sorry, 'm not really hungry. I'm gonna ask Ringo to come over, is that okay?" He turned to her, pleading with his eyes as he held the phone in one hand.
There was a sigh. "Alright. He can have some of the chicken if he wants any." She disappeared back into the kitchen, and John hissed out a triumphant 'yes!' before he dialled his friend's number.
After 2 rings, there was a soft, light voice that answered the phone, unlike Ringo's nasally voice. "Starkey residence?"
"Mrs. Starkey! It's John." He coiled the phone cord around his finger languidly.
"Oh! John!" He almost felt the woman he had known for half his life's beaming through the phone, voice warm as fur. He always felt a motherly attachment to her when he was lacking the proper mother in his life. Not that Mimi wasn't a good mother, but.. she lacked the sympathy and affection needed sometimes. "Glad to hear from you. I'm assuming you'd like Richard?"
"Yes, cheers ma'am."
There was silence for a few moments, then rustling, then one of his favourite voices sounded on the other end. "Lenny! What's up, la'?"
"Rings! I really need ta talk about somethin'. Come over?"
"Oh, sure. Just had dinner. Be there in five, 'kay?"
"See ya," John hung up. With that, he darted up to his room to change out of his wet clothes - he picked a white t-shirt and a warm jacket with some tracksuits before he sat on his bed, waiting for Ringo to arrive. As he waited, he picked up his guitar, going through the chords Paul taught him. He had been practising them so often ever since Paul taught him them; even in class, he was reciting the chords in his head, positioning his fingers in the air as if he was holding a guitar. He felt he was mastering them, and he felt an urge to learn a song and play it for Paul. Would he smile like he did when they were practising their song together? John really, really wanted to see it again, for some reason.
"John! Richard is here." Mimi's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he stood up, putting down his guitar to go greet his best friend.
"Aye, Rich! Come'ead." They hugged briefly before entering the house, going back up the stairs to John's room. Ringo had put down his umbrella at the door, and he looked a bit cold and irritated at having to run through the rain to get there. "Sorry to make you come all this way in the rain, mate." He felt a little guilty, but it was necessary.
"'s okay, John! I hope it's important, that's all." Ringo shook his head, ever the kind one of the two as he smiled at his friend, resting a hand on his shoulder as John shut his bedroom door. "Okay, so... I just really need to get this all out. 's doin' me bloody head in." John sighed, crossing his arms as he sat down on his bed. Ringo opted to sit on the chair at his desk, leaning on the wood and gazing at John with a reassuring twinkle in his sapphire eyes.
"I'm all ears,"
So with that, John spilled all his thoughts out pretty much at once; all his insecurities he had been feeling lately, and everything that had happened with Paul and Cynthia. He explained the way Paul had been acting so contradictory, how he taught John the actual chords for guitar, how they had fun working, how they fought. The only thing he kept to himself was the almost-kiss scenario, feeling like he didn't want to bring that up. He told Ringo about him and Cynthia's date, how he felt nothing romantic-like when they kissed, how she she seemed scared of even saying the word homosexual. It came out so much easier than he thought it would when he'd been bottling it all up for the entire week so far; Ringo was just that type of person that was approachable and easy to talk to. John was always able to confess all his feelings to him. There were very little secrets they kept from each other.
"Wow.. that's a lot you've been feelin' there, mate. 's only the first week back an' already all this drama is happenin'!" Ringo chuckled, taking in all the information with a thoughtful expression.
"...I know. Sorry to dump it all, but-" He slumped in his spot, staring at his lap and twiddling his thumbs, feeling spent from letting out all his feelings.
"Don't apologise, okay?" Ringo cut him off with a shake of his head. A reflective silence filled the compact room for a few minutes, John drifting back to his thoughts again while Ringo mulled over what he had just been told. "Y'know, I understand where yer comin' from. Maybe you have some hidden feelings for Paul, but you don't really wanna admit it-"
"I don't have hidden feelings for Paul!" John retorted, but Ringo just grinned at him and plowed on.
"-so yer tryin' to rid those feelings by gettin' with Cynthia. But ya don't really like her." His friend paused. "I think, maybe ask Paul himself why he's been actin' so strange. It would give ya more of a clear answer instead of just frettin' over it."
"How? I've asked already an' it makes him get even angrier and distance himself from me!" John cried, rubbing his eyes harshly with fingertips in annoyance. "There's fuck all I can do ta get him to tell me why he's bein' such a dickhead."
"Hm... maybe try George? That might be better. He would probably tell you somethin', at least," Ringo tapped his chin soberly, eyebrows furrowed. "And as for Cyn..."
"What?"
"I don't think you should lead her on like that. I understand if yer tryin' to forget about other feelings with her, but it isn't fair on her behalf. She doesn't deserve to be led on by a guy that doesn't like her." Ringo stared at him seriously.
"I-I.." The auburn-haired boy stuttered, feeling his cheeks burn with guilt again. "maybe yer right. I know I shouldn't."
"Good. Do it soon, though- ye don't wanna get too deep into it. The quicker you do it the better." "Right. Thanks for all the advice, Richie. It actually really helps," John smiled at his azure-eyed friend, who smiled back just as warmly. He could ask George why Paul was acting so rudely and maybe he could get to the root of the problem!
"'s all good, mate." He stood up, John following him as they left the room.
"Richard? Are you going to stay for dinner?" Mimi asked as she came out of the lounge room.
"Na, I gotta get home. Cheers, though." Ringo shook his head as they made their way to the front door. "See ya tomorrow, Lenny!" He grinned at his friend.
John pulled him into a hug. "Bye."