If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 48 - 26.May.1964

Chapter 48 

May 26, 1964

Whoever said time heals all wounds was a fucking liar. Time was not my friend. It was a total piece of shite.

Time without John moved at a sluggish pace, and it was almost impossible to get used to being without him, especially since he wasn't really gone. He was everywhere I looked...the damned Beatles were everywhere I looked. Even while the boys were on a nearly month-long holiday, they still dominated the papers, television, radio, everything. Physically, John was gone from my life, but I couldn't seem to go a day without seeing his face.

I knew his schedule—where he'd be, and when—and I knew there hadn't been a chance of running into him for the last several weeks. But now he was back in London, having just arrived from Tahiti with George and his bird Pattie. I knew the arrival time and all the details because I was meant to be on that holiday, too.

The door opened sooner than I expected, and I wondered how long I'd been sitting on the couch in silence. A sun-kissed George walked through the door, his luggage in tow. He dropped everything at the door and walked into the silent flat, his eyes meeting mine. He wore a dark, fitted suit over a white button-down shirt, which accentuated his tan. A cig dangled between his lips, and he smirked when he saw me. He looked more relaxed than I'd seen him in ages; the holiday had done him well.

"You know it's not on, right?" George stopped a few steps in front of me and stared between the blank telly and me. "Please tell me you haven't gone mad as a bag of ferrets since we've been gone."

"Really?" I asked, feigning shock as I leaned back against the couch. "I've been watchin' a wonderfully hilarious show for hours. You can't see it? Maybe you're the nutty one."

George collapsed on a chair, taking a drag of his cig. "Would be funnier if I wasn't a little worried ye'were tellin' the truth."

"I haven't lost me mind, George," I mumbled as I rolled my eyes. I reached forward and grabbed my pack of cigs, lighting one and placing it between my lips. "Not yet, anyway."

"Good to hear." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and his chin on his knuckles. He eyed me and looked seconds from asking how I was, so I cut him off before he had the chance.

"Tahiti grand, then?"

He busied himself with his cig as he scratched his face. "Dreadful trip, Liv. Just dreadful."

I picked up a pillow and chucked it at him, but my lips pulled into a rare smirk. "Don't do that, George. You don't need to lie cause you think it'll make me weepy to hear how lovely it was."

"Lots of sun, maybe too much sun by the end. Think I look a bit like a berry. But it was good to be on holiday." He pulled in another drag of his cig. "Was maybe a bit too long, though."

"And you're jetting off again soon, aren't you? A bloody world tour?" I pushed one hand into my hair to work through some of the knots and took a deep drag from my cig with the other. I tried not to dwell on the fact that I was meant to be going on tour with them, with John. I assumed I was no longer invited, though no one had actually told me not to go. But it would've been daft to go anywhere near John after everything that happened between us.

"Yeah, somethin' like that," George said, his gaze still on me. The look in his eyes was awfully familiar, though I was much more used to seeing it in Paul's doe eyes. "Listen, Liv—"

"No, George. Just no." I shook my head and stood, my legs carrying me into the small and tidy kitchen. I knew that tone—he wanted to talk about everything, and I was having none of it.