If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 71 - 8.July.1966 - 11.Aug.1966

Chapter 71

July 8, 1966

It was the summer from hell. And it all started with the last stop on their tour...the Beatles' time in the Philippines hadn't gone well. And maybe that was the understatement of the century.

I stood outside our front door, my back pressed against the ridiculous door knocker, the bare tits that supposedly resembled mine pressing into my back. I gripped my arms over my chest and waited for what seemed like hours. When the car finally rolled into the driveway, I couldn't wait any longer. I rushed toward it and grabbed the door handle, the car still creeping to a halt.

I slid over the leather seats and wrapped my arms around John before he had a chance to look up.

"Hell, Liv. Gimmie a mo to breathe, won't you?" he said, and he didn't move, completely caught off guard. "I know you can't wait to get me in the sack, but you're cuttin' off me circulation you're huggin' me so damned tight."

"God, I was worried." I buried my head into the crook of his neck. "I was so fuckin' worried."

"I'm fine. We're all bloody fine." His arms finally moved, and they locked around me, holding me like only he could.

I pulled back and looked at him. His hair was a bit tousled, his sideburns shaggy, and his eyes were red and heavy. He chewed on a piece of gum and looked like he hadn't slept in weeks; even his lightly shaded, round sunglasses couldn't hide how knackered he looked. It wasn't unusual for him to look wired when he returned home from a tour, but this was different.

"Sure don't look fine," I mumbled, my lips barely working. The adrenaline that had been shooting through me for days was finally subsiding.

When the media in the Philippines had turned what seemed like the entire country against the boys, it became almost impossible for them to get out of the country unscathed. From what I'd read in the papers, police protection for the group vanished after a perceived snub of the country's First Lady. After the backlash, the band endured a terrifying ride to the airport and once they arrived, the porters refused to help with their equipment.

The boys were jostled, and Mal Evans was practically beaten. I'd spent the last few sleepless nights stewing over every detail, allowing my mind to imagine the worst, even though I knew John had gotten to India safely—a planned stopover on their way back to London from the Philippines.

"I was out of my mind when I read about it."

"But when aren't you out of yer mind?" he smirked, finding it easier to make a joke than to take me seriously. "Married meself a nutty one, I did."

I scowled, flicked his ear, and then tightened my grip on him, my heart racing as I tried to breathe normally. "Are you all right? Is everyone all right? How 'bout bloody Mal and Nell? Are they all right?"

"Like I said, we're all fine." He unraveled his arms and drew in a drag of his half-smoked cig as he chewed his gum. "Gotta use yer ears, Liv. Listening every once in a while helps."

"Fuck right off, John. You gonna tell me what the bloody hell 'appened or not?" I plucked the cig from his fingers and brought it to my lips, taking a drag before handing it back to him. He only scowled a bit...he'd become very used to sharing his cigs with me over the years, not that he was ever chuffed when I borrowed one.

He pinched his lips together. "Just said you read all about it, didn't you? Why relive it?"

"Oh, come off it. I need to hear it from you, not the press."