ℙ𝔸𝕀ℕ ⇒ 𝕁𝕆ℍℕ 𝕃𝔼ℕℕ𝕆ℕ

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❝𝕿𝖔 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉. 𝕸𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖕𝖊𝖔𝖕𝖑𝖊 𝖊𝖝𝖎𝖘𝖙, 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖑,❞

...

| January 20th, 1963 |

John's POV

A muffled noise awoke John from his golden slumbers (A/N: 😉), and he lifted his head to see the source of his suffering. Paul sat up, picking at a band of duct tape attached to his face. John's eyebrows lifted, and he spoke, but his speech was also stifled.

Paul noticed that John was awake, and his eyes widened. He pointed at John's face and attempted to speak. John stumbled from the couch, desperately trying to detangle his legs from the shackles of blankets that trapped his ankles. As he got into the bathroom, he looked in the mirror to see the same strip of duct tape Paul had. Paul appeared behind him and studied the tape for any weak points. 

Paul's duct tape's perimeter curled inward, meaning Paul must have been pulling at it. John sighed through his nose and turned to Paul, knowing what he had to do.

As quickly as possible, John grasped the corner of the tape on Paul's face and tore it off of Paul. Paul screamed in agony, the pain too overbearing for his skin. He glared at John and ripped his off as well. John swore loudly, holding his hands to his mouth.

"What the fuck, Paul?!"

"You did it to me!" 

They both turned and gazed at their reflection in the mirror. Their face was a blotchy red where they ripped of each other's tape harshly.

"Shut it before ya wake everyone else," John scolded Paul before maneuvering around him to exit the bathroom.

Paul rolled his eyes but followed him back into the living room. After a few minutes of quaint bickering between the two, George stumbled into the kitchen, desperately searching for medication to alleviate his pain. Supposedly he found something while ransacking the cupboards and popped the lid off, dumping a few pills onto the countertop. 

John and Paul ventured into the kitchen, and each snatched a small translucent blue pill from underneath George's gaze and popped them into their mouths. George threw his head back, his hair flowed in sync, and he tossed the tablet into the air. The two men watched in amazement as the small capsule dropped into George's mouth.

"We shoulda done that," Paul grumbled. "Show off,"

"Too late now," John shrugged, unbothered by George's pretentious display.

The three men raided the fridge, each finding something appetizing to eat for themselves. George captured his large bag of biscuits and devoured 3 of them. John removed the cake from the refrigerator and unwrapped it. Paul found a premade plate of leftovers and tossed it into the microwave, pressing a series of buttons. 

"Brian's gonna be mad," Paul thought aloud, withdrawing the hot plate from the microwave with oven mitts.

"He'll get his knickers in a twist even if we're a second late; what's the difference?" John replied.

George nodded, agreeing with what John had said. The three of them cleaned up a bit, leaving their dirty dishes in the sink. 

Suddenly, Charlotte shot out from the hallway, her long fluffy bathrobe flying behind her. She spat out every curse word in existence as she ran into the kitchen. The lads watched her stumbled into the countertop, trying to fill the kettle with a steady hand.