If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 65 - 23.Aug.1965

Chapter 65

August 23, 1965

An awful feeling churned in my stomach. It broke through my sleep, and I turned over, gritting my teeth, trying to find rest again because I'd only just fallen asleep. I pressed my head into my pillow and refused to open my eyes. The feeling would go away. I was sure of it.

I'd arrived in Los Angeles hours before, Neil collecting me from the airport and driving me to Beverly Hills, both of us yawning as we chatted. We arrived in darkness, long after the boys had fallen asleep, at a sizeable Spanish-style house hidden in the side of a mountain. John barely moved when I crawled into bed next to him. I hadn't seen him in a few weeks, and I wanted to talk his ear off and then shag him, but I didn't dare wake him because I knew he was beyond knackered. Touring was never easy on him, and I knew this tour had been exceptionally grueling.

The unpleasant feeling grew, and I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I curled my body into a small ball as I tried to breathe through the discomfort. It wasn't the first time in the last week that I'd woken up feeling a bit off, but each time I was able to settle my stomach after a few minutes.

"John?" I mumbled, and I removed one hand from the grip on my stomach to reach for him. But the bed was empty beside me. I groaned as my stomach lurched.

Fuckin' hell. Foul tasting bile filled my mouth as I kicked the blankets from my body and bolted to the loo, slamming the door behind me.

I scrambled to the toilet and emptied my stomach, moaning as I squeezed my eyes. I sat back on my heels and pushed my hand through my recently cut hair. With eyes still shut, I breathed evenly, desperate to get rid of the awful feeling. But it wasn't enough to suppress the relentless churning.

A loud knock resounded. "That you in there, Liv?" George asked, his voice thick with sleep. "Whatcha doin' slammin' doors this early?"

Before I could answer him, my stomach lurched again, and I gagged, but this time nothing came up. I groaned into the toilet as I shook my head.

George knocked again. "Aye, you all right in there?"

I pressed my hand against my forehead, feeling for a fever, but my skin wasn't hot. What shite fuckin' timing for some kind of stomach bug to hit me. With both of our busy schedules, John and I had to work hard to see each other, and I was meant to stay with the boys through their respite in Los Angeles and then join them for the rest of their American tour. And I damn well wasn't going to be ruddy sick for it. So I sat back on my heels again and pulled in a breath, trying to put mind over matter. I clenched my teeth and repeated the words 'I will not vomit again' in my head.

"Liv?" George hollered through the door.

"I'm fine, Georgie. Sorry I woke you," I said, but the moment I stopped talking, I gagged again and emptied my stomach for the second time. "Fuck. Just fuck." So much for mind over matter.

"Don't sound fine." He twisted the knob and pushed the door open, poking his head in. His dark hair was an unruly mess, and his kind eyes were half-shut, heavy with sleep.

I glared at him as I pressed my hand to my forehead, leaning my elbow against the toilet seat. "Hell, who said you could open the door?"

"Where's John?" he asked, scratching at his stubble and walking into the small room. A wrinkled white shirt covered his lean torso and cotton pajama bottoms hung loosely over his legs.

"Fuck if I know. Woke up, and he was...." I stopped talking as my stomach churned, and I pressed my lips together, shaking my head, trying like hell to keep the contents of my stomach where it belonged.