If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 45 - 29.April.1964

Chapter 45

April 29, 1964

The phone rang. Again. And so damned early.

I trudged out of bed, my hand combing through my hair and my legs barely working. John was still dead to the world, his hair a mess, his mouth open, and his body sprawled across the bed.

"So bloody fuckin' loud," I said as I hurried toward the noise. I wanted to slam the damned telephone against the wall for waking me up, especially since I'd only just managed to fall asleep again. But I hurried toward it on the off chance I was wrong about who was on the other end of the line. "I'm comin'." It was a bit nutty, really, to talk to the telephone, but I didn't much care.

I grabbed the phone and brought it to my ear, trying to calm my voice down in an effort to sound normal, as I said, "Hello?"

There was giggling on the other side of the line. Nope, I hadn't been bloody wrong.

"Liv," a voice crackled through the line. It was odd how John's fans spoke my name like they knew me. "Can you put John on? Is he home?"

"Wrong number," I muttered, my jaw clenched and my foot tapping.

"I know that he's—"

I cut the girl's voice off as I slammed the phone down. But the damned thing rang again an instant later. I didn't think twice. I dropped to my knees and crawled under the small table, toward the wall. With steady hands, I ripped the cord from the wall and smiled, admiring my handiwork.

"Who was on the phone?" came John's voice from somewhere behind me; he still sounded half asleep as he mumbled the words. "What the fuck time is it, anyway?"

I crawled out from under the table and sat on the ground, my eyes meeting his. He was practically starkers and had his glasses shoved onto his face, his hair still a complete mess.

"They keep callin', John," I said, my shoulders slumped forward. "A bit after eight, I think."

"Just don't pick up, then." He pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes.

"What if it's someone we actually know?"

"Is it ever?" John turned and walked toward the kitchen, not waiting for my response.

No, not really...not since we came back from America anyway. The mania had grown even more since their time in the United States, after their massive success on the Ed Sullivan Show. A record-setting 73 million people had tuned in to see the boys on American television that night. We arrived back in London to an even larger crowd than had seen the boys off. And each day after that, the hysteria snowballed. I didn't know how much bigger it could get...it felt like there had to be a tipping point, but somehow there was no end in sight.

"So I'm just supposed to let it ring?" I hollered after him as I dropped the cord on the floor and stood. My feet padded over the dark blue carpet as I followed him into the kitchen.

"Bloody unplug it for all I care, Liv," he mumbled as he collapsed onto a chair, still rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, his glasses on the table in front of him. "Or we can get a new number."

"Just got a new one a few weeks ago," I said as I filled a teakettle with water. I placed it on the burner and then grabbed a massive stack of mail. "And I did unplug it, but that kinda defeats the purpose of having a phone, don't ye'think?"

I stared at John as he sat, unmoving. His mood wasn't anything unexpected... it was too early for him to be awake. He was often beyond knackered and, as a result, more irritable than usual. But it wasn't as if John hadn't been irritable in one way or another his entire damned life. It was something I was very used to.