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⠀⠀╲⠀╲⠀☆⠀ ╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀☆⠀╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★
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april 1859
A soft humming filled the dewy spring night air. The moon hung high in the sky that night, unusually bright and washing everything in view with a white-bluish tint; Paul had snuck out the window of the one bedroom they had, not wanting his father or brother to catch him meeting John, and he was lying on the crisp, cool grass next to the house, hands resting comfortably in his lap, excitedly fidgeting with one another. His eyes were half-lidded as he hummed a tune John and Paul had practised together at John's place to himself, elongated eyelashes brushing against the top of his flushed cheeks.
A heavy, warm breeze caressed his skin, the blades of grass brushing up against his arms causing them to itch slightly. Excitement and nervousness was coursing through his veins at the prospect of meeting up with John, heart pumping fast and causing the hairs on his arms to stand on end. He had been waiting for about twenty minutes now, just listening to the distant sounds of crickets and animals rustling in the night, everything else dead silent in that moment, pretty much the entire city of Liverpool fast asleep in their homes. They would meet up here then hang out in the warmth of the barn house for the night so the older wouldn't be caught by Jim. John was a little late, but Paul didn't mind - he knew that the prince might struggle to sneak out unseen as guards were posted outside the house, or the servants or maids could catch him.
He just hoped that John would come at all. The more seconds that dragged by, the more nervous the younger became, getting more and more worried by the moment. What if John doesn't come at all? What if he forgot? Maybe something happened to him? The thoughts were running rampant in his mind, and he quickly sat up, moving to lean against the side of the house, resting his head just under the half open window he came out of. The doe-eyed boy's bare foot tapped impatiently against the ground. Anxiety began to take its holds as Paul grew more and more worried about his absence.
He's not usually this damn late. It's been almost half an hour.
He pulled nervously on the ends of his trousers before scanning the street for any sign of the prince, jumping up with a grin when he spotted something rustling in the bushes by the house opposite his, but faltering when it was just a sparrow, pecking at something on the ground before flying away. Alas, nothing.
He grew more and more anxious as more excruciating minutes went by, still no sign of the other boy; at this point, Paul grew increasingly doubtful that the prince would come at all. His throat closed up tightly as unwanted emotions began to stir in his chest, bubbling up to his throat, ready to spill and cascade from his eyes in the form of bitter tears. Did John forget to come? Did he get caught up in something else? Did something stop him from coming? He just hoped nothing bad had happened to his friend.
There were so many unanswered questions he was begging to ask, and he grew increasingly more desperate, standing up and running out onto the street, glancing around frantically for any sign of him whatsoever.
"John! John- are you here?" He called out into the silence of the night, running down the street and glancing all around him in futile attempts to find John. He made it to the end of his street with no luck, and the realisation struck him - John wasn't coming. He was never this late, unless something had happened. The feelings of dejection, bitterness, and hurt mixed dangerously within his body, creating a gigantic shit storm and threatening to burst once again as the dismayed boy made his way back to his house. Was John bored of him already? Just a pretty boy to mess around with for a few days before moving onto the next? He had heard his friends sometimes talk of the boys he had been with, their relationships never lasting very long. Was Paul just one of those boys to him?
Slowly sitting back down on the grass, the boy rested against the brick wall of the house, eyes shutting tight to prevent the tears from forming in them. He still clung onto the tiniest bit of hope, that maybe John was just late, maybe he got caught by Mimi or something. She did seem extremely angry with him that day at his place in the rain. He still remembered the terror he felt then; the need to just run from the situation as fast as he could. She might have prevented him from coming.
But still - it didn't stop the thoughts of John having gotten bored of him. Tossing him away like an old toy, ready to move onto the shiny new version of Paul.
The thought was too much for the young boy, and he crawled through the window back inside, curling in tight on himself once he made it to his bed and shutting his eyes, just focusing on the distant noises of the night and his father and brother's deep breathing, the feel of the uncomfortable mattress below him, the warm air caressing his skin gently, to ground himself. His heart ached terribly, a dismal feeling washing over him like being submerged in water.
I wish you were here, mum.
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"Ah! Mr and Mrs Powell, welcome, welcome." John's grin was wide and extremely faked, eyebrows raised as he held out a hand in greeting, shaking his father-in-law's hand and pressing a kiss to the back of his mother-in-law's hand afterwards. The smile never broke as they were brought inside the warm, brightly-lit manor, Cynthia standing beside him, looking prim and proper as ever, a smile as fake as John's present on her own. Mimi stood on the other side of the double doors that were being held open by guards with a polite smile, ushering a servant over [it turned out to be George] to begin to take their guest's coats from them. Behind Cynthia's parents were about eight more people, all chattering amongst themselves as they made their way up the gigantic marble steps, the two giant carriages that had taken them to the manor standing tall in the distance, on the other side of the now closed gates.
The guests had just arrived for the dinner, bedrooms prepared and everything prepped and spotless for them. John was wearing a rich, silk green suit, tailored perfectly to his form to accentuate and tuck away all the right places, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He was absolutely not feeling up to dealing with rich assholes, but he knew there was no escaping. He had to deal with it. The only thing that was running through his mind was Paul at the moment. Every movement made and word spoken was autopilot, practised manoeuvres that he knew off by heart.
"Mr Phelps! Mrs Phelps, greetings." John greeted the next pair of people, helping them inside. "Such a delightful coat, Mrs Phelps!" It always helped to throw in compliments every now and then to keep them happy. Her brown coat was overly large, fluffy, and made of real fur, he supposed.
"Oh, why thank you, Mr. Lennon. Designer." The woman blushed slightly and smiled at the young boy, before turning to chat to Mimi, the two people absentmindedly taking off their extremely expensive overcoats and tossing them towards George, who was beginning to struggle with carrying the gigantic coats that were too much for the lanky boy. John watched him with a sympathetic tug on his heart, but he could do nothing to help or else he would be caught being friends with a 'common boy'; instead George had to call out for another servant, this one John not recognising as he came out from the front parlour (it was having last minute touches being done on it) and he took some of the coats off of the dark-eyed boy.
"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Best.. master Best." John forced his eyes off of his friend to pay attention to the other guests, the three following after Mr and Mrs Phelps, one of them being one of John's airhead friends, Pete Best. More like Pete fucking Worst. Irritation rose threateningly in his throat, but he swallowed it down and gave him a smile, gesturing them inside.
"Hello, John. How's it going? Anything interesting happen?" Pete smirked at him, before winking at Cynthia, who stared at him with a slightly disgusted expression. "Hi."
"Oh, fine, of course. Preparing for the wedding and all. Nothing too strenuous." He faked another chuckle, the three of them sharing a moment of awkward laughter before he turned to attend to the other guests. Pete's antagonising presence behind John was driving the prince mad, knowing that the question of 'so, John, what's with the papers and them saying you're a homosexual and you were spotted running around with common boys, huh?' was resting on the tip of the younger man's tongue.
"Mr and Mrs Shotton! Greetings. Hello, master Shotton." He greeted the last three guests, bringing them inside before the doors were shut behind them, closing them off from the outside world with a final bang. The other Pete gave him a smile and a nod before their coats were taken too, George and the other servant taking them away to the coatroom; not without the sharp-cheekboned boy giving him a warm smile before leaving, John returning it with just as much warmth. It eased the anxiety within him a little, feeling as if he could breathe just a little bit more knowing that he had George to count on if things got hard for him to deal with.
Fuck, I need to tell George what's been happening. Keeping that thought in the back of his mind to remember later, he turned back to the guests, clapping his hands together and faking another smile, reaching to put a hand behind Cynthia's back, the girl leaning into his touch comfortingly.
"So! How was your trip. Served you all well, I hope? The weather was pleasant?" Glancing quickly to the window, he saw the sun beginning to set, the sky a mix of purples, oranges and yellows, mixing beautifully together. I'm supposed to meet Paul in a few hours after this. Fuck, I can't see him. I can't put him in any more danger by seeing him.
"Oh, just splendid! Your carriages are quite comfortable!" Mr Shotton answered with a nod and a smile, shaking John's hand firmly. The prince tried to keep his composure and faked another smile, heart aching at the thought of Paul being all alone.
"Lovely. Now, if you would just come with me.." He gestured for the group to follow him to the parlour, across the sleek marbled floor of the front landing. The parlour was large, lit up by chandeliers and many oil lamps, a large, roaring fireplace on one end and a bookshelf on the other. Two velvet couches faced each other with a coffee table in between, two large armchairs on the left of it, facing the fireplace. The mantelpiece had many expensive items displayed on it, and the walls had paintings of the family with golden frames hanging from them. One, bigger than the others, displayed a stern-looking Mimi, dressed in her finest clothes with her crown placed upon her head, just like it was now, hanging above the fireplace. It showed that Mimi, figuratively and literally, domineered the Smith manor.
"What a lovely parlour. Is this genuine gold?" Mrs Best inquired, gesturing to the golden borders of the painting in awe.
"Oh, yes, of course." Mimi began to chatter away to the woman about the quality, John's attention turned back to the floor, Paul clawing his way into his mind again and causing his heart to drop. His eyes, large and wide like a deer with drooping eyelids, thick, dark eyelashes, coloured a lovely rich green with flecks of bronze and brown, ever-changing depending on the light, haunted his vision every time he closed his eyes. He had no idea how Paul and him were gonna get through this.
"John.." Cynthia cut into his thoughts, resting a hand on his upper arm with a concerned raise of a brow. He turned to look at the girl with shock, before turning to look back at the chattering guests. Right. He was the host of this evening, he had to constantly pay attention and take care of them to keep them happy and comfortable; punishment for his actions. Fuck, I hate this literally so much.
Faking another smile once again, he put his hands behind his back to hide his fidgeting.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen!" He caught their attention, the guests turning to look at him in curiosity. "Beverages? We have wine, tea, cocktails, champagne.. maybe some appetisers before dinner is ready?"
"Oh, I'll have a wine, please." Mrs Best spoke. John nodded and called in a servant who was waiting outside by the door to be called on, the man taking all of the guest's orders and bowing before hurrying away. John felt too sick to the stomach to have anything other than water.
Fuck, here goes. Irritation sparked in his chest as he spotted the two Pete's made their way over to him, Cynthia now having turned away to speak with her parents.
"Ah, nice suit, John." The blonde one started, nodding slightly.
"Yes, splendid." The other agreed.
"Thanks. You too. Is that Aguillon?" He gestured to the dark-haired Pete's suit, who nodded absentmindedly. The prince knew they what they really were talking to him for. To find out if the newspaper's rumours were true.
"Yes.. look, John, we have a question for you."
Here it comes.
"Yes, uh- go ahead." John felt his heartbeat begin to race, anxiety at the thought of them finding out the truth beginning to bubble up his throat, holding his hands tightly behind his back to prevent fidgeting. Sweat was beginning to build up on his forehead and at the back of his neck, building up more and more as time went on. He hoped to fuck they couldn't notice.
"We were reading the papers, you see.. and we came across some things about you." The blonde Pete put his hands in his pockets before raising his eyebrows at him. Fuck jesus fuck. Play it cool, Lennon.
"Oh? What things were they, exactly?" He feigned obliviousness before turning to greet a couple of servants who came in with their drinks and appetisers, which were usually fine cheeses and meats with bread, and small cakes and cookies, etc. The food and drinks were handed out accordingly, the only people having thanked the servants being John and Cynthia. The servants then dashed from the room.
"Things like.. you being spotted running around town with common boys." Pete Best's face turned sour, spitting practically venom when he spoke the words 'common boys'. John felt resent build up in his throat and he clenched his jaw slightly, anger rising at the way they spoke about his friends. He managed to keep his composure though, as Best went on. "And you were accused of sodomy. Can you imagine that?" The two Pete's barked out a laugh at that (John followed quickly with a not-so-convincing chuckle), incredulous was the idea that John Lennon, prince of Liverpool was a sodomite.
"Really? My goodness, what poppycock!" John guffawed - a bit too loudly than was necessary - before taking a shaky sip of his water. "I don't even bother to read the newspapers anymore, they always write such drivel. Obviously they have gone off their rocker with writing that." He laughed incredulously, keeping his hands occupied on his glass to stop them from running nervously through his perfectly styled hair.
"Yes! We are glad to find out that they were wrong. Sorry for interrogating you there, old chap." Blonde Pete smacked him on his shoulder heartily, both their composure growing instantly friendly as they bought John's bullshit completely.
"Of course, no mind. Always got to root out those sodomites, hm?" He chuckled forcefully again. Those words sounded incredibly foreign to himself, as if someone else had taken hold of his body, forcing him into this role he had been prepped and born into. A puppet on a string, so to speak. He would never say this of his own volition.
"You are right there, John!" The three laughed loudly, one being extremely fake through it; John was instantly glad that Cynthia came over, resting a comforting hand on the middle of his back and smiling at the three.
"What are we discussing here, gentlemen?"
"It is nothing, Cynthia." John waved her off slightly, before turning to see Mimi coming over to them, gesturing for John to come closer. "Oh, excuse me for one moment, would you?" He smiled apologetically at the group before coming over to where Mimi was.
"Yes, mother?" He made sure to call her mother, in case someone overheard.
"Dinner is prepared. Help the guests to the dining room, please." Mimi spoke to him before turning away to continue speaking to the adults.
"Ah." John prepared himself to have all attention on him again before speaking, lifting up a glass. "Ladies, gentlemen! Dearly sorry to interrupt - dinner is now ready! If you would follow me to the dining room.." They all followed him out of the parlour, across the front landing and into a hallway to the dining room, servants opening up the large door to reveal the even larger room.
Most of the space was filled up by the long, sleek, gigantic wooden table, many lavish chairs propped up to it, the largest ones being on either side of it. The table was covered with a decorative lace tablecloth, plates with cutlery and other accoutrements placed at every seat. The entree meals were sitting in the middle of the table, covered by metal lids, ready to be revealed to the waiting party. There was a row of floor-to-ceiling windows which faced the luscious garden where John and Paul danced only a day before, thick, velvet curtains pulled back to reveal it. The other side of the dining room had another fireplace which was alight and crackling, and more paintings hanging on the wall. In the left hand corner was an open archway which led to the lounge area.
"Please, take your seats anywhere you like." He gestured to the dining table, used to the looks of awe the guests would display at seeing their extravagant manor and its many rooms. He moved to take a seat at the head of the table, Cynthia on his right and Mimi on his left, the rest of the crowd gathering at that end of the table, taking their seats in their respective places before servants came into the room, two of them being Eppy and and George, expressions blank as they held a hand behind their back, the other reaching to lift the lids off of the food.
"Please, enjoy." Brian spoke, the servants bowing again before disappearing back through the doors, a couple standing at the other end of the room, ready to help with anything. The entree was creamed pumpkin sauteed lightly fried whatever the fuck soup with bread and some other things John didn't really care about. John felt bad for the servants, having to stand there the entire time while they dined on lavish meals and having to attend to every beck and call, not permitted to do anything else. He caught Brian and George's eye, sending them a small smile, which they returned, before going back to the meal.
Everyone was generally silent while they ate, small talk bouncing off between them all, but John opted to stay away from conversation, just focusing on the food, Paul drifting back into his thoughts. He wondered what the younger was doing right now; was he having dinner with his own family, laughter and happy conversations travelling between them? Maybe John was on his mind, even if for a second? He hoped Paul wouldn't hate him..
"John! Have you heard about Evelinge's new fashion line? Checkered pants, it's all the rage now! Everyone's who anyone is wearing them!" Mr Best addressed the prince, large smile on his face, cheeks flushed pink with alcohol (not enough to get tipsy, thank god), and the auburn-haired boy faked a smile at him, nodding before taking a sip of his water.
"Yes, I've heard. Such an interesting design... it's splendid."
"Right? I remember when I was a child, knee high boots were becoming a fad..."
John wasn't really listening, the idea of grabbing the fork he was using to eat and stabbing himself in the eye with it being more appealing at the moment.
Eventually, the party had finished their meals, entree, main and dessert and all, gravitated to the lounge room, and were now playing cards, pleasant but vapid conversation drifting through them all. John opted to stay out of it, sitting comfortably in the corner of the couch, one arm laid comfortably on Cynthia's hip and the other fiddling with a rusting locket, staring down at it with a brooding expression.
He longed more than anything to see Paul; to feel his lips against his again. Ever since he got a feel for himself that fateful day, he couldn't stop thinking about it. About Paul. Being with him would be so much better than here - he couldn't stand all these conversations about fucking nothing, all so devoid of life and materialistic. Devoid of personality, with a mask of intellect and superiority. They could be so much more; they could be people - but the way they were brought up, the mindsets they kept were stopping them from it. Don't show any fucking compassion for people 'lesser' than you, or really anyone at all except yourself. No one had anything fucking interesting to say, because starting up any real conversation, any debates - that would make room for opinions, and you were all meant to have the exact same opinion in this world. Or else there'd be 'chaos'. Chaos is better than this.
Needing desperately to talk to someone other than a rich airhead, he moved from his position, standing up and dusting himself off politely.
"Well, I am dearly sorry, but I think I should retire, as it is late- I shall see you all tomorrow morning for breakfast."
"Oh, but- don't you want to play one game of cards? Cynthia has been winning, actually." Dark-haired Pete stared up at him in curiosity, gesturing to the game they had just finished. Cynthia glanced up to look at her fiance, giving him a look of 'just leave; it's bloody boring here' with a small smile.
"No, no, I am quite alright, thank you, Pete. I will be off now; good night. Please, do ask the servants if you need anything." He smiled politely at the guests before making his way as quickly as possible out of the lounge area, closing the door a little loudly with a loud, relieved sigh.
Outside the door, George and another servant was waiting, obviously been slacking, sitting on the marble floor next to the door and chatting away, the young boy leaping up to go back to his post, but relaxing when he realised it was just John.
"Oi, Geo. Come with me?" John immediately dropped his learned accent, turning to look at his friend, who nodded, turning to the other servant.
"Cover fer me. Get James or someone ta take me place." George waved goodbye before the two boys darted up the stairs to John's room, John flopping onto his stomach on his bed with a loud groan, burying his head in the pillows.
"Fuck, 'm finally free! Jesus, tha' was bloody excruciating!" He rolled over and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes with a huff. George leapt onto the bed beside his best friend, sighing comfortably as he snuggled into the extremely cosy bed.
"I bet. 'ow'd ya do? Didn't stab either Pete's chest with yer knife?"
"Fine, I think. Got their mind off th' shit the papers were writin' bout me."
"Wha'? What've they been writin' 'bout ye?" George lifted his head, looking at him in utter confusion.
"Oh, well uh.. lots of shit has happened in the last two days, man." John chuckled humorlessly, resting his arms behind his head with another sigh.
"Tell it ta me." George sat up and rested his head in his hands, raising his eyebrows with a small grin.
"Ok, well... me an' Paul, uhh...we-"
"Oh my god."
"What?"
"Did you guys?-" George's eyes lit up with a gigantic grin, and he leapt up with a squeal when John just stared at him in silence. "Oh my god!! Ye did it! You guys are together! My one true pairing!!" He danced (quite frankly, badly) around the room in excitement, chanting; "John and Paul are in looovee, John and Paul are in looove-"
"Pack it, will ye? Stop!" John half-heartedly kicked out at his friend, turning into a wrestling match as they tussled on the bed, giggling all the while, George squealing and darting away when John kneed him in the stomach. They eventually calmed down after a few seconds of incomprehensible giggling, John growing somber as he remembered the other part of it.
"Well, uh.. it didn't last that long, actually." He then told his best friend about what happened when Paul left, everything that had been in the papers - George listened intently, both eventually sitting up against the headboard as John talked. When he was finished, the prince sighed despondently, leaning to rest his head on the younger's shoulder, George wrapping an arm around John's. "I jus'... dunno what ta do. I can't see him. I can't put 'im in danger anymore. It's too dangerous. Me life is too public."
"....I know." George spoke eventually. "I understand where yer comin' from. But.. d'ye wanna see 'im?"
"Yeah, 'course I do." John looked up in slight shock. "I jus'.. I can't put 'im in danger."
"Ye should see 'im. I know it's gonna be hard ta sneak around all the time, but.. there are ways fer ye to see him. Find ways to hide from sight. People talk all the time, it makes it hard ta go around an' do things people don't agree with, even if ye aren't the prince of Liverpool. Me an' Ringo have learned how ta do it.. it can get tough sometimes, but it's worth it. He's worth it. If ye want ta have a relationship with him, ye need to find any way ye can to be with him. Y'know?" George rested his head against the pillows behind him, lazy smile painting across his face at the mention of Ringo. He turned to gaze at his best friend earnestly. "Ye guys should pursue it. Ye have a good dynamic. I think ye should go fer it, John. Paul's a great guy."
The prince was silent for a few seconds, the words processing in his mind. I should see him. Apologise and make it up to him. I like Paul so much, I'm not gonna let this go because of a few newspapers. We can be more careful this time, we can find ways to be together through this.
"Yeah. Thanks, Geo. That means so much ta me. Really." John grinned up at his friend warmly, the younger pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his hair, John shoving him away with a laugh.
"No problem. Now make it up ta Paul, ye bastard."
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author's note.
___________________
OIOI SORRY this came out a little
later than intended,, schools
started up for me and its been
really hard and m struggling a Lot
but yknow what fuck it we aint rly
doing much anyway just like a few
tasks so far. EEEEEEEEEEEEEE
hope yall enjoyed this chapter WOP
john is gonna make it up to paulie
for being an ass. wooeoeoeo
anyways enjoy this chap aahhhh
also SHIT FORGOT TO MENTION
THIS IS ALMOST AT 4K AAAAAHFJ
IM GONNA CRY THANK U ALL ee
<333333 ebkfbkjefjwkjf ur all the
best mutherfuckers out there fr
oK SHUTTIN UP NOW BYEE<333