╲⠀╲⠀╲ ╲
⠀⠀╲⠀╲⠀☆⠀ ╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀☆⠀╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀★
june 1859
Arid, yellowed grass tickled Paul's tanned skin as he laid on it, gazing up at the overhanging branches of the tree with its wide, shady leaves through half-lidded, tired eyes. Bees ambled lazily around the three people sweltering under the British summer heat, stopping occasionally to investigate the wildflowers before moving on. Patches of blazing sunlight managed to worm its way through the leaves and onto George, Ringo and Paul below; the ebony-haired boy squinted to drive a patch that had fell on his cheek out of his eyes. In the distance, he heard huffs from the horses lazing about in the shade and the bleating of sheep - sounds he'd been familiar all his life with. What would it be like to leave it all behind? To live in the city of Paris, to be away from the feel of grass under his feet, taking care of animals, tending to crops... being away from his family. Leaving them behind. He'd been reflecting on the idea for the past two weeks, almost three, since John had proposed the idea.
George and Ringo had learnt only a few days after Paul, and they were reluctant to go along with it at first. Ringo had thought the whole thing ridiculous; George was just terrified of leaving his parents and his life behind. It had been a while since then, though, and the few times they talked about it, it seemed the couple had been warming up to it more and more every time. They still hadn't confirmed with a definite 'yes' yet.
The doe-eyed boy turned to look at his friends - George's head was rested in Ringo's lap, the latter carding his ring-adorned fingers through his lover's dark locks, sitting up against the tree trunk, both looking content, but sweating at the heat. Paul had been struggling on the farm to do the chores, trying to keep the animals cool and making sure the crops have enough water, and it seemed his stabbing scar had started giving him trouble after moving too much. It hadn't opened up, thank god, since it'd been too long since the incident and now it just gave him some pain every now and then, the muscles around it having stiffened. His friends had came to help out for a while that day, knowing that he'd need it.
Juggling all the farm-work, their wood chopping job, and his own job at the pub playing piano, had really begun to take a toll on him. He felt like he had been worn out to a thread, barely registering what was being put in front of him, running on 4-5 hours of sleep every night, eyes sunken into dark rings and always bloodshot. He had been growing skinnier, more skinnier than he already had been all his life due to malnutrition and being overworked with little food. He could see the bones in his wrists, hands, and his ribs had grown even more visible than before. He didn't know how much more he could take before he dropped dead on his feet. The weather certainly wasn't kind, either - but it was better that it was summer than winter. The winters were cruel there, and due to not having sufficient clothing, they've been close to getting frostbite or very ill many times before. Actually, both winter and summer were equally horrible seasons to work in. He longed to at least get rid of one of them, preferably the wood chopping, but they needed every single last penny they could get their hands on.
He could see his father was growing weaker with every day that went by, as well. Jim was already declining into old age, but his pride and the need for money stood in his way from retiring. The Asher's were co-owners of their farm, but they couldn't leave the entire thing to them. Paul wished Jim could step down, afraid that he was pushing himself to the edge to support his sons and would get sick or hurt. In the end, Mike or Paul would inherit the farm after him. And Paul knew now it would never be him. He had thought so before, but now..
"Paul, are you sure yer alright with yer scar? You don't want it to open up again, or somethin'." George blinked worriedly at his friend, reaching to poke his shoulder and get his attention.
"I'll be fine, George. It's not too bad, it's sealed over long ago. It just gives me pain sometimes, is all." Paul replied with a shrug. He sat up, brushing off the dead grass that had clung to his back before turning to face his body in his friend's direction. He had to tell them now what he had decided.
"What's up, Paulie? I can tell you wanna say somethin'." Ringo blinked at him kindly. He always seemed to know what his friends were thinking.
"Right, well.." Paul started, licking his lips. He felt suddenly nervous. How would they react to his news? "I've decided I'm gonna do it."
"Do what?" George stared at him in confusion.
"Run away with John." Paul blinked, gaze casting to the floor, heart leaping anxiously. It felt so much different and terrifying now that it had been said out loud. He would be leaving Mike and his father all alone. It would be a long time before it would be safe for him to visit them again.
"What?" Ringo blinked, eyes wide and bright with shock. "Are you serious? Like, actually serious?"
"Yeah." Paul nodded, feeling determination rising in his chest. It's what he deserves. It's what him and John deserve. Somewhere where they can truly be together, as much as they could in this cruel world. He could see George opening his mouth to speak, so he cut in quickly before he could. "I've thought about it long and hard. I can't live in this life of secrecy anymore. It seems I'm fightin' for me life every single second, workin' three jobs just to put a measly fucking plate of potatoes on the table. I feel so overworked, tired, hungry all the time. I run on 3 hours of sleep a night and 2 or less meals a day. I've felt this way for all my life, I know - but it's time to put an end to it. I deserve to be happy with John. I want to be able to be with him. Our lives are too separate, too far apart, we won't be able to carry on in this situation. John's aunt has gotten increasingly suspicious, keepin' him locked in.. he's about to marry a girl he doesn't love and be crowned king, something he doesn't want. He deserves better than that. I want to run away with him."
His friends gazed at him in a shocked silence, nothing being heard except for the continuous buzzing of bees and the occasional crisp call of a bird. George blinked and suddenly smiled as he came to terms with it.
"Wow. You're in love."
"What??" Paul spluttered, cheeks going red. In love?? Wh.. "N-no! I.." his voice died in his throat as he fought to speak, suddenly unable to do anything except bite his nails. Am I in love with John?
"C'mon! Admit it to yerself. John's obviously way in love with you already." George rolled his eyes as if he expected him to know that already. Ringo just attempted to suppress a laugh by coughing.
"He is n-" Paul started indignantly, but quickly stopped. Was John in love with him? He tried to think back to the last time they saw each other, when John proposed they run away nearly 3 weeks before. The way his eyes sparkled with such loving affection when they embraced, how excited he was for their future plans as if he had decided on it long ago. The fact that he was even planning their future that far ahead!! His truly panicked, grief-stricken gaze when Paul had been close to dying. How he seemed willing to do anything for him, give him large amounts of money to save his brother when he got sick, ride a horse for the first time even though he was terrified, sneak out and risk his life just by coming to see him... he had bought a beautiful bracelet for him!!! And sometimes he had looked at Paul with such strong emotion, like he was the entire fucking world and that simply nothing else even existed, that it almost made him tear up. Fuck, John's in love with me.
"See, you've finally figured it out now." Ringo had noticed the look on his face and grinned down at him. "Bit of a shock, I know."
"Not really. John is a total fuckin' sap when it comes to Paul. Talkin' about him all the time, like "where's Paul?" and "do you think Paul would like a pet cat or dog when we get married?" it gets so annoying!!" George cackled, speaking in a high-pitched, nasal voice when pretending to be John.
"Hold on a second," Paul started with wide eyes, looking red as a tomato. "Did he actually say that last one?"
"Yeah, one time when we got drunk and you weren't there because you were working on the farm, and you couldn't drink yet because you were still healin' from the stabbing. He was cryin' and cryin' about how he missed you and wanted you there. It was so funny."
"Oh my god!" Paul buried his head in his hands with a keening noise, feeling hot waves of embarrassment shoot through him. "I'll bloody kill him for being in love with me."
"No you won't! You'll just confess yer own love for him and vow to get married to him in secret and bear his children." Ringo teased.
"No! Shut up. Besides, how the hell can either of us bear children?" Paul huffed, crossing his arms in annoyance. Of course his friends would never let him hear the end of it now he knows John loves him, and he probably loves him back. God, even thinking of that sends a shiver up my spine, Paul thought, stomach exploding with butterflies. In love with a man! And a prince at that. Not something he could have predicted would happen in a million fucking years.
"I'm sure you'd find a way," George wiggled his bushy brows, flashing his fang-like teeth in a grin, both him and Ringo dissolving into laughter after his little joke.
"C'mon, guys, seriously!" Paul punched them both on the arm with a glare. "I'm serious. I'm going to do it."
They both quieted down, realising the actual magnitude of the situation and they stared at their friends seriously.
"That's okay, Paul. It's your life. You and John deserve to be happy together, in the end." Ringo's eyes glimmered sadly at the thought of seeing his two best friends leave them, and he pressed his lips tightly together as if trying to keep from crying.
Suddenly George threw himself at Paul, holding him in a hug so tight that he thought his bones might snap in two. His friend buried his head in his shoulder with a sad noise.
"Don't leave me! I dunno what I'd do without you, Paul," He sounded so distressed that Paul felt his throat close up, choked with sentimental emotions. George and Paul had been friends for as long as they could remember, they had had such similar lives and the doe-eyed boy didn't know what he'd done if he had never met him. He'd certainly have never met Ringo nor John.
"So don't," Paul pulled away, excitement trilling through his veins at the prospect of the four of them living together. "come with us! It would be so good. We could be all together, we could have so much fun!"
"I dunno if I can, though.." George fell short, fear sparking in his eyes. "how would we support ourselves? We don't even know French!"
"Did you forget that John's the prince of fuckin' Liverpool? The royal family has so much money, more than they know what to do with. He's gonna nick a few thousand, they won't even notice with how much they have already!" Paul grinned. "And John knows French, he was taught! I remember a few stuff meself from what me ma' taught me. We can teach ya!"
"Really?" Ringo sounded doubtful, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. Could Paul actually convince them to come with them? "But I dunno if I can leave me parents like that."
"I know," Paul nodded solemnly. "we know it's a lot to ask, but.. please think about it. How truly great it could be."
"Okay," George agreed eventually. Ringo nodded, still looking mistrustful, but nothing more was said on it. "oh, and I can tell John that you've agreed to do it, when no one's lookin'."
"Thanks, Georgie." Paul smiled warmly at his friend, pulling both of them into a hug. "And you know I'd never leave you guys. Not really."
"Anyways, enough sappy shit," Ringo pulled away from the hug, turning his head to furiously wipe a tear out of his eye. "I'm hungry. Let's go get chips, eh?"
"Chips!" George beamed, all previous sadness forgotten as he grinned hungrily at the thought of food. He leapt up, pulling both his friends to their feet. "Let's not stand about and wait for the grass to grow! C'mon!" He darted off, leaving the two other boys to watch him jump excitedly through the field like a child on Christmas day with a chuckle.
"Crazy wanker," Paul giggled, Ringo agreeing vehemently before running to join his lover, scooping him into his arms from behind. George let out a joyful screech, flailing in Ringo's surprisingly strong grip as he was thrown over the older's shoulder like a sack of rice.
"Put me down you prick!" He halfheartedly punched his back, but he was grinning so widely that it seemed his mouth would jump off his face.
Paul couldn't stop laughing all the way there, truly joyful for the first time since John's imprisonment.
✧✧✧✧✧
John stared out the window with a despondent sigh. He was seated at the desk in the study, arms crossed over the wood and head resting on top of it. The desk was positioned to face the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the gardens, the velvet curtains drawn back to reveal the hot, sunny day outside. The gardens looked luscious as ever, but the grass was dryer than it usually was, and the tree's leaves had taken on a sun-bleached tinge. He felt incredibly bored. There was no one for him to hang out with now, not being able to leave nor being able to talk to Cynthia anymore. She had left a few weeks ago now, and they'd sent one letter to each other since then and now. It was basically John complaining about how bored he was and how he missed her and Paul and his friends and asking how she was, and she replied that she'd been swamped with family meet ups and gatherings and dealing with the marriage plans, but she felt sympathy for his loneliness, and hoped to get the chance to visit soon. That was the only time.
He felt there was nothing he could do anymore except plan the wedding, respond to letters, attend balls and engagements as a perfect role model for how the young rich people should act; it was exhausting, mentally draining, and even worse that he didn't have his one anchor of support with him anymore. Mimi had felt bad for all these parties they'd been going to and hosting and had seen how drained John was getting, so she let him off a few - but she had now idea how he truly felt. If she did, she'd do whatever she could to get him out of it.
She loved him, but she was so narrow-minded, her ideals and morals so ingrained in her mind from the way she was raised that she couldn't begin to understand how anyone not in her own situation could feel. It hurt that he couldn't be honest with her. He wished, oh so wished, that he could tell her about Paul. How much he loved him. How wonderful of a person he truly was, how to make her see that life wasn't just about following in your family's footsteps, getting married to the opposite sex, and having children.
Sitting up, he tapped a finger against the desk with yet another sigh. Standing up, he turned away from his view of the gardens and went to sit at the piano in the middle of the room. The sleek black wood was lit up with streaks of sunlight that streamed through the window and onto the waxed wooden floors. Lifting his hands up to the ivory keys, he played a tentative note. It had been a while since he had played any piano.
After a few experimental chords, he slowly morphed into playing Beethoven's sonata no.8 in C minor, something he'd been taught by Mimi as a child, it being ingrained in his mind at this point. His fingers glided across the keys effortlessly as he remembered how the song went, eyes falling shut as he lost himself in the music. Memories of all the times he played piano in the past came to mind, and he wished he had pursued it more, but he had lost interest when he entered his teens.
He had been so intent on his playing that he hadn't heard anyone come up behind him until there was a tap on his shoulder - he jumped in fright, the song cutting off abruptly as he turned to see who it was. When he saw George staring back at him, amused smirk playing on his lips from scaring his friend, he relaxed in relief.
"Ha! Scared ya, sucker."
"Shut up. Thanks for sneakin' up on me like that," John glared, irritation rising in his chest for a moment before it ebbed, just happy to finally have a moment alone with his friend. "I'm glad to see you. I'm so bloody bored, I've resorted to playin' depressin' songs on the piano."
"I can see that," George commented with a chuckle, jumping up to sit on the top of the piano, legs swinging back and forth. "Hung out with yer husband yesterday, and guess what he tolds me?"
"He's not my husband." John rolled his eyes, standing up to go sit on the much more comfortable couch, arms crossed over his lap. "And what?"
"He's in on it." George smiled at him. "The running away thing."
John's heart leapt and his mouth gaped like a fish. "Shit, you serious?" Excitement and joy began to flood his veins. Paul wanted to run away with him!
"Yeah, duh. I'd be a total tosser if I was fuckin' with ya." George raised an eyebrow.
"That's so good! Thank god, I was terrified he'd not want to," John sighed in utter relief, suddenly elated. It would mean George and Ringo were more likely to agree as well! He was on the way to actually doing this. He remembered something as well, all of a sudden. "It's Paul's birthday soon, isn't it?"
"Yeah, on the eighteenth." George confirmed. "You should totally sneak out so we can celebrate."
"I will, don't worry. The ol' kid's turnin' seventeen! I remember my seventeenth." John grinned, thoughts of what to get Paul as a present whirling through his brain. What could he get him?
"Yeah, 'cause yer old!" George snickered, making John throw a couch pillow at him.
"So respect yer elders!"
"Alright, I'll push yer wheelchair for ya."
"You little shit-" John laughed, picking up the pillow and hitting it repeatedly on his head, George laughing his arse off trying to defend himself, snatching the pillow off him to hit him back. They fought for a few moments more before stopping, out of breath and giggling like little boys again.
"Sorry, John - I gotta go back to work. If anyone catches me here, they'll dob straight in." George grew sad he had to leave his friend, and the two shared a brief hug before he made his way to the door.
"Okay. See you later, George, eh?"
"Yeah, see ya." The younger boy opened the door and promptly shut it after him, his hurried footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
Now that John was alone again, he felt more lonely than ever. But at least he got that little stolen moment of happiness; it seemed the world was on his side for that day. Taking off his jacket and shoes until he was just in trousers, a shirt, and an undone vest, he left the study and went down the stairs to the back gardens, deciding to take a walk in the sunshine. It was too hot for a jacket or anything, and he relished the feeling of the grass under his bare feet. The only thing keeping him sane right now - the gardens.
He noticed the gardeners hard at work, some sending a few polite hellos his way as he went past. He suddenly wished he could have a pet running around his feet with him, but he knew Mimi would never allow such thing as an animal in the manor.
He was wandering aimlessly among the fields of flowers and plants, brushing a hand along a bed of tulips as he went, enjoying the hot sun beating down on his neck, warming him up from the cold, empty manor. Before he knew it, he had arrived at a certain spot under an ancient oak tree, its branches gnarled and twisted with age, but leafy as ever as it stretched over Julia's grave.
He stood over the grave, a dismal wave of unhappiness surging in his chest, curling around his heart like a claw. It was a white marble tombstone with a fence around it made of the same material. The flowers he had placed last week at the foot of the grave was still there.
"What do I do, Julia?" He whispered, kneeling down and tracing the edge of the fence before letting his hands drop to his sides. "I love Paul. I need to be with him as much as possible. I can't take anymore of this life... it would be so much better with you here."
There was never any response whenever he talked to her, but it comforted him to pretend that maybe, she was watching over him. She was always so understanding and kind, always sympathising with his problems and giving sage advice. He knew she'd say 'follow your heart' or something sappy like that, and it was exactly what he was going to do.
He slowly sat down, scooting up to lean against the trunk of the tree beside her, resting his head against the wood. He stayed there until the sun sunk into the ground below.
✧✧✧✧✧
author's note.
_________________
hi sorry this isnt like so action
packed aGG i just needed to like
show the time gone past and
a few other things, so yeee!!
hope u guys enjoyed this ,,
bye bye<333 omg and also
thank yall so much for nearly
900 votes thats literally
insane like what the fuck???
i love u all so so much ty
for reading <333 byeeee