If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 46 - 29.April.1964

Chapter 46

April 29, 1964

It took everything in me to turn and face John because I wanted to run out of the room, out of the flat, and never look back. My face crumbled as my hands trembled, and my body twisted around so I could meet his gaze. I stared at him through wide eyes, my breath coming in short, quick bursts.

Why in the hell was he home? He shouldn't have been home yet. I was late, but I was still supposed to have time.

John sat on the edge of our bed, his feet pressed flat against the floor, his overcoat beside him, an open suitcase filled with my clothing on the floor in front of him. It seemed he'd been packing for Scotland and, in an attempt to be helpful, he'd gone into my drawer, not having any idea what was hidden beneath my clothing. It had been daft to hide it in a bloody drawer, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty, and I was supposed to be the one packing, not him. His cheeks were red as he looked at me, a bit of wetness pooling in his eyes.

My gaze fell to the paper stuck between his fingers. There it was, the letter I'd found over a year ago, open in his hands as he sat unmoving, glaring at me. And judging by the look on his face, he'd read at least the part of it that I'd read.

"What are you doin' here?" The words tumbled from my mouth before I had a moment to think...as if he'd actually answer such a pointless question after reading my father's horrifying confession. But I didn't know what in the hell else to say. None of this was right...I'd been just seconds from reading the fucking thing.

He was on his feet the next moment, his knuckles white as he clutched the letter. "No, no, fuck that. You tell me what the fuck this is." He took a looming step toward me. "Right now, Liv."

I stepped away from him, my back smacking against the dresser. The words jumbled in my mind. Everything I'd been preparing for disappeared the instant I heard his voice, and I was left speechless. How could I possibly make him understand...how would he ever forgive me...?

"I was gonna tell you, John, I swear—"

"Oh yeah? That bloody right?" His voice grew louder as he stepped closer to me, his eyes tight and narrowed. He looked practically menacing. "How long have you had this? How long have you known what he did?"

"John, listen to me. I was on my way back here to finally—"

He cut me off again. "Answer me fuckin' questions, or get the hell outta here."

My heart raced so fast in my chest that I worried it would give out. Every emotion that had been tormenting me since finding the letter ripped through me all at once, but now they were so much worse.

Fuck.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be the one telling him. But then why hadn't I told him in the millions of chances I'd had? How was it even possible he discovered the letter just when I'd finally found the courage to tell him the truth? None of it was fucking fair.

I swallowed through a painful lump in my throat and stepped toward him. My eyes darted to meet his as I frantically tried to find the right words. "I...I found it in one of the boxes I'd packed away...that night you surprised me and came home from Scotland. When I was searchin' for Mum's pearls."

He narrowed his eyes like he was trying to remember what in the hell I was even referring to. But then his eyes widened at the memory, and he turned on his feet, walking away from me, the letter still in one hand, the other hand in his hair.

"Fuck you," he said through gritted teeth before rubbing a hand over his face. As he turned, his wild eyes met mine, and I knew right then that this conversation was going to be useless. When John had that look, there was no reasoning with him, but I was too desperate to let that stop me from trying. "You've been keeping this from me for over a fuckin' year, Liv?" he asked, dragging out every word.