We woke up the next morning with a call from John, and headed to the studio together.
On the way Paul and I sipped our respective coffees, trying to keep our hands warm from the icy wind of a gray Liverpool.
"George knows how I felt about you", Paul said out of nowhere as we crossed the street.
"He saw me one afternoon with my eyes fixed on you and asked me why the hell I couldn't take my eyes off John's girl. Until then I never noticed y'know? I never saw how you looked at each other. But I thought you I needed to know how I felt anyway. So yesterday I told George that I would finally confess my feelings to you. He just said that if I did anything dubious, he would be responsible for breaking my left arm and Ringo for what I remember, I would be responsible for breaking my teeth", Paul said reclining against a pole on the street and placing a hand in his coat pocket, "I think John would just end my entire existence", He said raising his coffee cup to his mouth amidst the contained laughter.
"Thank you so much for risking your teeth for the truth, Mr. Mccartney", I said, wrapping my arm around his, "You can use me as a human shield against John if you need to" I said planting a kiss on his cheek. "I'll remember that love", He said as he guided me the rest of the way to the studio.
We found our entire group of friends there sitting together on the entrance stairs, all with their coats closed to the top and their cigarettes lit.
I could see John from a distance sitting with his black shirt, smoking a cigarette carelessly and my heart immediately missed a beat. I wanted to run up to him and shout that I loved him but something about how he looked at us from afar made me freeze where I was. As soon as he saw us, he got up hurling his cigarette away and went fast inside.
We were warmly welcomed by George, Ringo, Mal and even Brian, with loud "'ellos" and hectic narratives about what awaited us for the rest of the day.
John spent the whole afternoon in a bad mood. Which wasn’t exactly rare, but it was always a cloud of noticeable tension between us. I felt that he ignored me.
John was always the person with subtle touches and whispered words of affection, always afraid to risk demonstrating something real and being left out. Without warning, I felt that someone had a hand resting gently on my shoulders, or heard his laughter very closely. Sometimes as if he was too comfortable, John would pull me into a hug from behind and say he was very happy with my presence. It was not uncommon for him to come and sit closer to me in the studio, just to ask for an opinion on a stretch or to talk about amenities that would distract him from work.
But today it was as if I didn't exist.
I exchanged confused looks with George during the rehearsal, who silently screamed "What the fuck is going wrong today?" And George moved his thick eyebrows towards Paul, making me even more confused.
Brian asked the boys to take a break when the sun was already sinking over the horizon and everyone made their way outside, talking loudly about the music they worked on throughout the day. John went to the roof alone and silent, which was an unusual sight, since it was usually him screaming the loudest among the boys. I followed John to the roof, interested in the moment away from the others to find out what exactly was going on in his head. When he heard the sound of the roof door opening, John turned to look directly at me from the end where he was, a new cigarette between his fingers.
He wore a black turtleneck blouse and his hair jutted out towards his face in disarray, following the order of the high wind that blew on the roof. It was as if his face was hidden in dancing shadows, which represented John's mood well throughout the day.
"Did you plan to tell me before or was I really supposed to find out like this? Seeing you two walk over here holding arms and ev'thing", He fired seriously, as if he was spitting his words at me, "George already knew because Paul told him. What about Rings? You decided that everyone would know before me?", John said.
"John? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Find out what?", I said closing the roof door and entering the electrical atmosphere where John was.
"Fuck, Y/N. Of course you know. George told me that Paul confessed how he felt yesterday. And then I called Paul in the morning and he said he had slept with you. You are a couple and you didn't even have the courage to call me to tell me the good news?", he said wryly, coming slowly towards me with his hands in his pocket, blowing away the smoke remaining from his last cigarette
"Paul came to my house to ... you know what? It's not really your business what he was doing there", I said crossing my arms as if blocking John's access to information, "He was there and ended up staying for the night, as you’ve done thousands of times. I thought it was clear by now that Paul is my friend, that I care about him just like you do. He told me how he felt, and I told him how I felt about yo... ", I interrupted myself feeling that I couldn't finish the sentence without crying in front of John.
"Is this why you ignored me all day? The reason why you treat Paul so coldly during rehearsal?", I asked finally understanding the source of John's bad mood.
Did that mean that he was only jealous?
"The idea of having two friends hiding things from me for months and lying to me as if I didn't represent anything is why I treated you like this", He said loudly enough that I felt like cringing in his presence, " I told Paul several times how I felt about you and that didn't stop him from having sex with you. As if you were just anybody yesterday".
"I had nothing but a good conversation with Paul last night", I said going towards John barely able to contain my tears, "I don't know what he told you on that call other than the fact that he spent the night in my house, but I ... ", I put my hands to my chest trying to focus my breath on the cold roof air, trying not to focus on the angry look that John carried.
Did he believe I had anything with Paul? After all this time?
"You what, Y/N? Is it another one of the things you don't have the courage to tell me? Maybe it's easier to tell Paul, since it's him you decided to open yerself up to", he said with an irritated growl at me .
"Fuck you, Lennon", was the only thing I managed to say before the tears came out without permission. I opened the roof door again and threw myself inside as if running from a monster.
.Paul finds it difficult to show affection and his friends help him overcome this problem. .Some cute dialogues between the guys.
Warnings: Paul describing how he feels when people touch him without warning.
Word count: 1.9K
Paul was back home with Ringo and George after a long day of photos with the band. John had stayed behind to help Mal with some matters and would not be home until later.
Paul was especially tired on this day, having been faced with some internal conflicts throughout the photo section. John's presence sometimes made him feel in a parallel dimension, as if dealing with a weird fiance of his.
They joked about how Paul seemed to play hard to get with John, as if he were afraid of being caught doing something forbidden by the others.
"The problem is not quite that, there is no such thing as "play hard to get" y'know" Paul said looking uncomfortable, "Sometimes when ... I'm not sure, but sometimes when he hugs me I feel like I'm a little trapped."
It was at that moment that George realized that he was really hurt by something. It didn't seem like a joke.
"Not only him, y'know, but when people touch me I feel like running away. I know it sounds silly but it's almost as if the touch sets off an alarm in my head."
Paul tried his hardest not to hurt his friends, he knew how affection was shown between them and he didn't want to appear insensitive.
"It doesn't sound silly at all," George said sitting on the arm of the sofa, "We knew you were never much of a hugger but..." He looked at Ringo, "We thought you just didn't like the proximity" Ringo added.
Whenever the boys were thrown on the couch or sharing a cigarette on hotel beds, Paul was the only one who liked to keep his distance.
They all had their theories about it. Ringo thought Paul was afraid of the social associations that the press could make if they were seen too close together. George, on the other hand, thought that Paul was simply more closed and liked to choose the moments of affection better.
John, who knew Paul much better and much more intimately than the other boys, suspected that this was not the case.
He remembered all the intimate moments he shared with Paul, all the times they melted into each other's eyes and shared their tears on the dark nights. John knew that there was something repressed about Paul, something he was trying to solve on his own.
John often thought that maybe Paul was afraid to get too close to him, afraid of what could happen between them if he let himself be carried away.
"No. Actually, I think I’ve always been a little jealous of you guys" Paul said taking a small sip of whiskey, "You always seemed so free, y'know? I wish I could tuck in between you guys in bed or accept all the hugs John gave me, but..." He stopped talking for a few seconds, rearranging his thoughts, "I physically couldn't sometimes."
"Well, that explains a lot," George said, relaxing his shoulders and leaning against the couch.
"You could have said something earlier, Paulie. It's not like we're going to judge you," Ringo said, dropping his body into the space between the other two guys, "We still love you, I hope you know. We could only have made it easier for you."
The only sound that could be heard in the room for long seconds was the sound of the ice hitting the empty glasses of whisky. Paul was relieved to have finally managed to express the ideas that had been on his mind for so many years. He was no longer ashamed to share his feelings.
"The truth is, I never had to think about it too intensely, y'know? You guys always had each other so I never felt that I was absent in any way," Paul said, breaking the silence and directing his attention to George, "But now with this whole situation with John, I feel like I'm constantly letting him down. I wanted to try to fix this for him."
"Well, Paul, I don't think it's the kind of thing you do for others," George said, "John clearly loves you very much and doesn't care if you're going to be able to hug him on the street or not."
"I particularly feel so much better now that I know the real reason for all this," Ringo said, his voice low, "I just thought you were afraid of me or something."
"God, no. I just... I never did..." Paul started to say but was interrupted by George.
"We understand how you feel. We are happy that you had the courage to talk about it, regardless of whether it took long or not."
"It's better this way, really. We love you and I'm sure John will understand too," George said moving to look Paul in the eye.
"Don't you think John is going to love me less for that?", Paul said, afraid of missing out on the best thing that had ever happened to him, "What if he gives up on me?"
"In that case, he is not the right person for you, Paulie," George said, being greeted by Paul's sad eyes, "All you need to make a difference is love. That you have, is already a great start."
Something in the way Paul seemed helpless made George want to wrap his friend in his arms and keep him safe.
"We can try to help with this touch thing, if you want. We can make you feel more included, even if it's not with hugs," George said, excited about the possibility of helping his friend.
"We don't want you to feel less loved just because you don't participate in all the cuddles, okay? We'll find a way to resolve this. All together," said Ringo, looking fondly at his friend.
Paul didn't think he would find calm for his personal hell there that night, but his heart was lighter with his friends. He was grateful for all the people who were in his life, even though he hasn't been completely honest about his problems all this time.
"Can I get a hug now?" He asked, even surprising himself with the request.
George quickly threw himself in the direction of the other two boys and Ringo received the request with a big smile.
"I'm going to try not to squeeze as hard as I want, so that you have more space to breathe," Ringo said, letting Paul throw himself towards his chest as well.
The hug broke, but George continued with one arm draped over Paul's shoulder, who had his lap used as a pillow by Ringo.
He felt comforted there, nestled for the first time among his friends without any desire to run away.
The door clicked open and John came in, making his way straight to the sofa to throw himself among his friends.
"How dare yall start the party without me" He said, starting to project his body onto the sofa.
Before he could lie down between them, George and Ringo shouted at him not to, as they knew that this could cause some discomfort in Paul.
"What's going on?" John asked when feeling the mood in the room, "Everything allright?"
Paul sat down and looked delicately at the other two boys on the sofa, who understood the cue to leave.
George gave John a little pat on the shoulder before leaving with Ringo, leaving John and Paul alone.
"What's the matter, Paul love?" He asked sitting on the couch.
"I... I need to tell you something, John, but you need to promise that you won't leave here until you hear everything" Paul said, concerned about John's possible reactions.
He knew that John had a bad reaction to rejection and feared that he might take his problems personally, as if Paul might deliberately not want to have him around.
John lowered his eye glasses slightly, looking fondly at Paul.
"It's only me, Paul," He said in a whisper, a way shared between them to convey security, "You can tell me everything."
And so Paul did.
"Recently I... I have been having some problems with the way people treat me," Paul started saying, settling himself uncomfortably on the couch under John's watchful eye.
"Carry on, love" John encouraged him.
"Sometimes I get scared of being touched," Paul said quickly, "Not really scared, but it's like... it's like I'm in danger when I'm touched at random, y'know?"
He felt like he wanted to scream, such was his discomfort at finally talking about it with John. It was a mixture of fear and gigantic agony.
"It's like I need to run away but I'm stuck in place. I'm not really sure how it started but, I'm afraid of how people see me, y'know? All the fan harassment makes me feel watched all the time and it's like..."
"Like you need to hide what you really are?" John added.
They exchanged a long look of understanding. John had a sympathetic smile on his face and Paul could hardly believe that there was a time when he really thought John wouldn't understand him.
"I thought it would be easy to deal with it around you but all the pressure from the media and..." Paul said, leaning in John's direction "I see how hurt you look when I need to get away from your touch. I thought I could do this but you are always too close and... what I feel for you, God, I love you so much and I wish that... I wanted to feel comfortable enough to demonstrate that love as easily as you do."
John's eyes flashed in Paul's direction. He was completely in love with the boy, fully understanding the situation in which he put Paul all these years.
"No problem, love, I understand how you must have felt. It is not your fault that you feel this way and it is not something to be ashamed of. I am glad that you had the courage to talk about it."
Paul was relieved to see the words leave John's lips. Even after the conversation with Ringo and George, a small part of him still thought it possible that John could reject him. Only the thought of John thinking that he was less loved by Paul because of that was unbearable.
"I'm just sorry I didn't notice it before," John said, dropping his eyes to his hands, "I've always wanted to be as close to you as possible, I never thought that maybe you didn't want the same thing."
"But that's not the case, John love. I love every second we spend together, y'know? The problem is not how I feel," he said, getting close enough to John that their legs touched, "I just need to deal a little better with the ways that I demonstrate this physically."
John looked at their legs glued together on the sofa and turned his eyes to Paul, like someone asking for permission.
With a smile, Paul placed one of his open hands on his knees and John placed his hand gently on top, weaving a promise there that they would deal with it together.
John went on to ask for permission before touching Paul lovingly after that, even if it was a light hand on his shoulders or a tight hug in the morning.
Eventually Paul would be the person to throw himself on his friends for a hug, hold John's hands without warning or even pose for pictures close to him.
Everything was fine when he was received by the unconditional love of those around him.
.John and Paul cuddles after a long day. .McLennon.
John walked slowly into the house and put the keys on the table. He took off his shoes carefully, as he knew it had taken longer than usual and Paul was probably already asleep. When he entered the room, he found Paul asleep on the bed. He wore a red wool blouse and slept wrapped in the covers with a peaceful expression. John recognized the shirt, it was the same shirt he used to sleep the night before. He started to undress carefully, went to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water and returned to join Paul slowly in bed. Paul let out a few soft sighs when he noticed that the bed was moving with John's weight.
—Took you long enough, luve — he said, letting John's arms wrap around him. — I waited for you, I swear, but my eyes ended up weighing too much.
—Sorry, Paulie. It ended up being a long interview — John said, paying attention with his kisses to Paul's neck.
—There were some girls at the door too, I had to sign some books.
Paul turned to fit his face in John's chest and put one hand inside his shirt, running his fingers over John's belly.
—Was it a good interview? With useful questions about the book for a change, y'know.
—The same as always. "Does that mean you're getting married, John?", "Is this about America, John?", "Is this about your father, John?" — John said forcing a high-pitched voice, his eyes closed with exhaustion.
—They are not interested in the real reasons. If I become a "Yes or no" repeat machine it should be good for them.
Paul let out a smile at John's imitation.
—'Bit frustrating, love. We would know — Paul said, remembering all the times they were underestimated by the media. — But I love the poems, just so you know. I don't love them more than I love the author, but ...
Paul planted a small kiss on John's shoulder.
They were used to spending whole days lying in bed together, taking turns between touches as easily as they breathed. Sometimes there were long moments of silence where you could only hear the wind outside, or John would fall asleep and wake up with light kisses from Paul as he placed a hot cup of tea in his hands. It was also common for nights to become a symphony of contained moans, swears of eternal love and warm kisses. Tonight, however, John had plans to make Paul his refuge from the world. He just wanted to feel the weight of Paul on his chest, the smell of his hair and the feel of his voice tickling his neck.
—I think I'm going to the kitchen to find something to eat, love — John said, starting to move his body out of bed.
—Oh no, don't leave, don't leave again. You just got here... — Paul complained in a low sleepy voice. — Pillows don't eat, John.
—Is that what I became, Mccartney? A big pillow? — John said offended, laughing at Paul's need.
—You can eat me, y'know, theres no need to leave.
—I will remember that later, love. We will have all the time in the world to stay here. Now let go of me before I need to subject you to tickle torture — John said, placing his hands on Paul's belly.
—For fuck's sake, John, then go.
While in the kitchen preparing a quick snack, John was unable to wipe the smile off his face. He thought how incredible it was that in just a few minutes, Paul could erase the frustrations of an entire day. He heard the sound of the door opening slowly and a sleepy Paul came out, rubbing his eyes slowly and wearing nothing but the red blouse and his white underwear. He smiled when his eyes met John's, sitting in the soft kitchen light.
—I couldn't stay without you — Paul said, walking up to John and standing behind him. Paul's hands wrapped around him from behind as he placed his chin propped on John's head.
—I'm irresistible like dat — John said between sips of coffee.
They stayed there until the cup was empty. Paul now sitting on John's lap, taking small bites of toast and laughing at the things John shared in the interview. They stood up together, John's hands sliding over Paul's legs before putting him on his feet.
—We can go back now. See? It didn't take that long.
—I'm a little bit of a drama queen, no surprise — Paul said smiling, running his fingers over John's shoulders.
—I think you are more like my princess — John said, tracing kisses around Paul's neck.
John's mouth went against Paul's at the end of the trail. The kiss started out soft, as if he asked for permission to proceed. John slid his hands behind Paul's back and quickly placed him sitting on the table. His hands continued to rise until they were holding Paul's face gently against his. Paul let himself be carried by John's lips like a boat that doesn't fight the current. He tasted like coffee and was hot as one.
—I missed those lips — He said, still against John's mouth. —And I missed your entire body — John said, pulling his face away to look Paul in the eye. — You have no idea what a day away from you does to me.
Paul nibbled on one of John's fingers that was running through his mouth now, already feeling the pressure that John's member was putting against him.
—I think I do, love — He said.
Paul jumped off the table and stuck his mouth on John's again, pulling him back to the bedroom, to the private kingdom that was their bed. Perhaps that night would again become a long swear of love, they had all the time in the world after all.
.Takes place in the chaotic Universe of John's mind and his search for love .Narrated in direct association with the songs on the album Rubber Soul.
Warning: Not a quick read and its gonna feel like a weird dream.
Word count: 2236
John walked the city for hours looking for the place that seemed perfectly compatible with his perfectly disturbed mind. His hands remained locked inside the pockets of the blue jacket until his fingers were taut. The only time when he directed his eyes to something beyond the ground was when he needed to cross the streets.
His mind had been silent for days, maybe weeks. Only small noises could be heard from the rusty gears that became his ideas. Since his last argument with Paul, John felt a little more empty inside. Everything in his body asked for Paul, everything in his mind missed the boy. He could not wait to be able to take him in his arms again, take him to a distant place with no intention of sharing Paul with the world.
John could spend weeks in silence, taking turns between small chores around the house and his bed. Nothing seemed more peaceful to him than his bed in times like these. He longed for the gray days when he could be wrapped in the sheets, just watching the world go by his window with Paul. But his days dragged on now that he was alone. Anything was enough for John's mind to move to a less peaceful way without the presence of his beloved.
Turning the second corner after a time-forgotten alley on the north side of the city, John found a place that seemed to be in perfect balance with its uninhabitable calm state. It was an old bakery, converted into a bar, converted into a bakery again, sold and auctioned three times in the past four years and finally bought to become what John saw now: An antique bookstore that exuded a strong aroma of coffee.
The entrance seemed to float in a confused existence, as if it came from a parallel dimension. The kind of vision that you only get when you don't try to see. John entered cautiously, feeling the cold metal of the door in his hand, and made a silent path to the farthest shelves. It was now possible to see that the strong aroma of coffee came from a small window between the columns of books.
John watched with curiosity as an elegant man reached for a steaming cup of coffee. The man wore a green velvet suit and took the freshly brewed coffee with him to a wooden table there. Everything was old and dusty which, for John, was a little comforting. He let himself be distracted again by the backs of books that saw affairs less troubled than his own, flipped through pages that did not know his problems and was enchanted by the faded colors of dried flowers that tried to decorate the tables.
John didn't realize he was singing until a ghostly voice came from the opening between the books, on the shelf in front of his face:
—I think it's bad luck to go around touching books that old, y'know? — the voice said — They may have been from a witch and you could end up becoming a frog.
The voice came from a place deep in John's mind. It wasn't exactly a nuisance but it wasn't exactly welcome. It was something, John had decided, that could be ignored.
—I know that song you're singing — the voice said, starting to hum the melody. — My dad was always singing that. Do you like it too?
And then he saw that the voice had eyes. John saw them in the empty space in front of him, floating between brown and yellow. It was as if the light from all over the space was sucked in by them but also as if it came only from them, traveling around the room. John thought he saw a certain familiarity in the way the eyes curved slightly, like a sad puppy. Looking at them was like rewatching a dream.
—I didn't realize I was singing — John said a little shyly, trying to compose the voice that hadn't been used for so long. — But yes. It's an old tune, I don't know why it suddenly came back.
—That's what this place does — she said looking around — It reminds you of the things that really matter.
John wanted to continue his saga through the books there, he didn't felt like listening to the stranger anymore but, at the same time, he felt trapped in the eyes behind the shelves.
—I'm Michelle, by the way, just like that book over there — she said, pointing to a book displayed on a nearby shelf. The cover was red, scratched and had "Michelle" engraved in gold letters. — What about you, Mr.Iliketogetmyhanddirtywithbookdust?
—I'm John. Just... Just John — he said, carefully analyzing the eyes that now showed interest in him.
A female hand was carelessly pushed into the empty space between them, with a worn red coat ending just above the fingers.
—It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr.Just John — she said, hoping he would shake her hand.
John took her hand cautiously, as his fingertips were dusty. The hand was delicate, transparent. Almost as if she weren't there.
—Sorry — John said, pulling his hand back and pointing to his dust-stained fingers. — I'm trying not to turn you into a frog too.
—No problem, love. I'm immune to most spells here — Michelle replied seriously.
John decided to just ignore the peculiarity of the situation and the girl's words.
It did not occur to him that, while talking to Michelle, the suit of the man seated drinking coffee turned a brilliant shade of purple. Much less did it occur to John that the bookstore had windows that could only be seen from the inside.
Michelle walked around the shelves quickly and positioned herself in front of John. That was when they were able to see each other completely without any interference.
Just as her eyes seemed to invite John to come closer, the girl's mouth was jutted in a familiar way. She wore a yellow coat with small red details embroidered on the collar, over a simple black dress and tights of the same color. Her hair was down and as red as the cover of the book she had indicated earlier.
—Funny — John said with a confused and fascinated expression at the same time — I thought I saw you wore a red coat.
—Funny — she snapped, moving closer to John. —You're too tall, I thought you'd be shorter.
—You can't exactly have ideas about me, can you? — he said amusing himself with the girl's strange lines — We only met now, silly girl.
—Of course, of course, of course — she said, shaking her hands as if she were scaring a fly — It was a silly guess, silly me.
—I work here, y'know. My dad asked me to come and check if you were planning to steal the place or if you are just a curious visitor — she said uncompromisingly pointing to the pin with "Hi! I'm Michelle!" written in red letters on her dress.
—I actually plan to steal the place — John said, turning to look better at the cashier — But I don't plan to leave any witnesses to my act dear, unfortunately.
—Oh, Mr.Just John, but I can't die yet — she said, bringing her hands up dramatically to her forehead which was already frowning in an expression of fear. — I didn't even fulfill all my plans. Maybe not even half.
—And what plans would these be? — he asked.
—I wanna hit the big time in the USA y'know, be a huge Hollywood star.
—So is that your plan? Get to Hollywood and get intoxicated with drivers and endless flashes? — John said making his way to the small window, already with his hands back in his pockets. — It doesn't look like I'm going to steal this place anytime soon then.
—Yer funny, Mr.Just John, but I don't need plural drivers — she said pompously, following John closely — Only one meets my needs.
—Can I get a cup of tea? Maybe you can join and tell me more about yer plans — John said with a smile, gesturing towards one of the empty chairs. — It's not like the place is full or demanding more of your attention than I am.
—I didn't expect your visit today. I planned to spend the day talking with the books on the romance shelf, but maybe there is a space on my agenda for Mr.Just John — she said taking a small leap of joy and heading towards the kitchen door.
Michelle returned almost immediately with a cup of John's favorite tea and spent a few hours sitting inside the bookstore talking about everything they expected from their respective lives, abandoned by time and soon also by the sun that was already threatening to remove its heat from there.
John narrated his adventures to become a great musician, told of his ideas and of his bandmates, without going much deeper into his history with Paul. Michelle swallowed his words like a hungry reader who eagerly waited for her favorite story to continue, eventually laughing at John's stories about Germany and the things George used to say in his sleep.
Michelle's big dream was to become a great actress. The next Brigitte Bardot if they asked her about it. She told John about her father, secondary jobs and all the people she has met to date. John knew that the girl had lived her whole life in the same apartment, and that she had only recently started working in the bookshop.
—I want to be famous, I think I was made to be the star on the screen. Sometimes I do things just for the sake of stubbornness — she said coming closer to John as if telling a secret — The more I am told that I will not succeed, the more I want to try. Do you know what I mean, Mr.Just John? I think the cinema is the perfect place for someone like me. Someone who wants to be seen, felt. Remembered.
John was warmed by the girl's words. Be it because he still swallowed the last sip of his tea or because of the safe feeling that Michelle gave him.
—I feel the same way. It's almost as if it is a challenge to reach fame, a great proof of the value of what I am — John added looking out of the store and remembering his bandmates — We're all just doin' stuff in between to occupy the time while we are not there, but we all know that the goal is the top.
Michelle nodded happily in agreement.
—To the toppermost of the poppermost, right? — Michelle said, looking dreamily out the window.
John noticed for the first time how the girl's black hair seemed to disappear into the room, as if it could be camouflaged between the backs of books and the colors of the walls.
—I'm sorry but ... Has your hair always been this c...
John started to ask the question and was interrupted by an angry shout from the kitchen, saying that Michelle was free and that she could finally go home.
—Oh! It's wonderful, Mr.Just John! I didn't even see time go by while I was with you — she said standing up in shock.
This made John get up fast too, since she was already removing her apron and tossing it on the next table with no concern.
—I'm just sorry about your tea — she added before heading for the door, pointing at the cup — Maybe you can come back another day to try one, right?
Confused, John started to say that the tea was delicious when he saw that the cup was still untouched on the table. Filled and still with the smoke of the boiling water, the tea remained in the same position that was placed hours before.
—But what in t... I'm... I feel like I lost my mind the moment I found you, dear — John smiled sheepishly, while lightly massaging his temples.
—That's impossible, Mr.Just John — she said, giving John a little touch on the forehead — We just found her.
Michelle led him to the door, leaving small marks where her nails sank into John's skin.
—I can't leave you yet, can you give me a ride home? — she said giving John a half smile — I'll let you play driving for a movie star.
—I would love to be your driver for the night, Ms.Future Bardot — John said, making a small bow — But, not only do I not have a car, but I also walked here.
—How about a little walking trip, then? I think I still remember the way — she said looking apprehensively at the street.
—It seems like a good way to end this... weird... day, dear — John said, wrapping his arms around Michelle —We walk today and I'll drive your car when you're a star.
—It's all very fine, Mr.Only John, you got yerself a deal.
John walked out of the bookstore with his arms linked to Michelle's. He didn't realize that he was coming out of an empty building, with the same cold walls that had seen his story unfold with Paul weeks earlier.
Anyone who saw him on the street at that moment, saw a smiling John walking alone, dreaming of people who did not exist and moments that have not yet been lived.
drummer boy // j.d ; twenty one pilots (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/SjqAgLW0Lv When Allie meets her new neighbor Josh, he gives her a whole new meaning to the phrase "boy-next-door"... thank you @laneboymark for the cover xxx
