𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter fourteen: i need him❜❜

❧September 19, 1960☙

Nights got harder to sleep, my mind racing. I missed the lads, especially John. Not too much, though, I still held a grudge against him, but it was starting to fade as I realized I did truly yearn for his company. He was a great lad, but he had his faults. He had a bad temper which was the thing that caused him to slap me. I did have sympathy for him, whether I liked it or not. He had lots of tragedy in his life; mom was killed, uncle died, dad left him, and lastly, I broke his heart. That messes with a person, and I guess it screwed up how he dealt with his emotions.

I just hope he is having fun in Hamburg, playing his heart out like he normally did. I'm sure the chicks were all over him. He deserves better than me, and I hope he finds it.

❧October 9, 1960☙

It was his 20th birthday, and I was still too shy to talk to him. I wanted to say happy birthday and act like we were fine and never better, but that was far from the truth. 

I sincerely held nothing against him anymore as my need to see him grew. I couldn't stand being in America alone. I had made some modeling friends, but they were nothing like John, Paul, George, and Stuart. God, Stu. I felt so bad I got him mixed up in this. The poor lad was just trying to be nice to me, and I thought I was "in love." 

I sat at the desk in the apartment with a pencil and paper. I debated writing John a letter or even just drafting it. 

John...

No, no, no, it needs to be more friendly.

Hello John!

That's a bit much. Do I just go for the regular simple introduction?

Dear John,

I erased it all, crumped up the paper, and tossed it in the bin. My hands met my face as I sighed. I couldn't possibly write him a stupid letter after all that happened. In our last interaction, I told Paul to tell him to fuck off. Real great thinking there, Elizabeth. I chewed on my nails, a new habit I'd formed from the anxiety I had. My stress starting getting worse after Jack told me I'd be staying in America for months. 

❧November 12, 1960☙

John, John, John. The only thing on my ruddy mind. I blamed myself for the whole fight. I shouldn't have tried to kiss Stuart, drunk or not; it wasn't right. I just ruined the best relationship I had over some other guy I barely knew. I wanted so deeply to see John and hug him, but my job prevented me from doing so. I wept over my loss as I reminisced the times we had together.

Why was this so hard for me? My heartfelt shattered to bits, and I was to blame. I was a bloody fool. John will never want me again. I broke his heart, and what is worse, I left him after I promised to stay.

"You won't leave me, right?"

"I just feel like everyone I've ever loved has left me or died."

My eyes seemed to be fountains as I repeated his words in my head. I felt like a villain ruining people's lives. He truly deserves better than me, but I don't think I'd be able to go on if he did meet someone else. Just the thought of it made me sick.

I could barely remember what his face looked like because it had been so long. Then I remembered something. My eyes lit up as I pounced towards my suitcase. Before we had our row, I used to keep the picture of him and me that had been stuffed on my vanity mirror in my suitcase. It was the one we had taken at a photo booth. I searched my suitcase like a crazy person as I tried to find it.