𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter thirty-one: my baby❜❜

❧December 2, 1963☙
❧Elizabeth POV☙

Being in a studio audience was quite odd. I was sitting beside Cynthia and Isaiah in the crowd of The Beatles. They were performing for The Morecambe And Wise Show. I always enjoyed watching them on the telly, which only meant this had to be good. I was eagerly waiting in my seat for them to come out. Something like pride bloomed inside of my chest. Those were my boys! It wasn't much longer until they dimmed the lights and the lads got into place. I waved at Paul and George, hoping they'd see me, but they didn't. Now I just felt stupid. I turned to look at Ash, who seemed to be very excited like I was. Suddenly cheering and claps got louder as they started playing— The only light being on Ringo. 

"That boy," The trio harmonized.

I could see Ritchie in the back with a broad smile spread on his face. He looked happy to be alive.

"Took my love," The lights started to get brighter, "Away."

I could see their faces more clearly now. John was on the right of the stage, and George and Paul were to the left. They were dressed in fitted black and white suits. John was playing his black Rickenbacker that I liked a lot. It was stunning and played beautifully, so who could blame me?

"He'll regret it someday," Then Lennon made eye contact with me even though I knew he couldn't see a thing, "But this boy wants you back again."

His eyes were like passionate lasers burning to my head. I sunk a bit in my seat. What was his game? It was pretty apparent he was singing at me. I didn't want him to, especially right now. It was in bad taste.

Cyn tapped my shoulder, "He wrote this about me, y'know. I thought it was sweet."

I glanced at her for a moment and smiled. It's nice she thinks that. I know otherwise because Dumbo the Flying Prat up there wouldn't stop looking at me like that. I knew it was about me- Well, I couldn't be sure, but it was evident. I may be oblivious to some things, but this was just plain and simple. It was starting to get on my nerves the more I thought about it.

"That boy isn't good for you. Though he may want you too, this boy wants you back again."

I scoffed and turned my head away from the stage. Bollocks. Isaiah is good for me; everyone knows it. John just can't get it through his thick, stupid skull! Now he had to go on and make a damned song that is just laced with his own arrogance. 

"Oh! And this boy could be happy, just to love you! But oh my-y-y-y! That boy won't be happy till he seen you cry-y-y-y!" John's voice had cracked during the more vocally straining parts.

God, did he know how to put on a show— One that made me feel like a fool for coming! He knew Marlon was going to be here, yet he still chose to sing that song. I didn't want to watch anymore, but I'd feel bad taking Ash away from something he was seemingly enjoying. He always made the most of everything, which was part of the beauty of him. He never made me feel like he wasn't happy doing something for or with me. That was the type of guy he was, and I loved him for it. Lennon, on the other hand, was a whole different can of beans. He was infuriating. Even after finally getting along with him, this did it for me.

"This boy wouldn't mind the pain. Would always feel the same, till this boy gets you back again."

The bloody nerve on John.

"This boy."

The self-righteous pig!

"This boy."

How dare he?

"This boy."

The crowd started clapping for the prick and the other three. I was so cheesed off about this! It was embarrassing to know that he was singing that in front of my boyfriend, who couldn't be more oblivious. If this was an act of trying to flatter me, it certainly did the opposite. If I was allowed to, I'd run up on stage and chew his blinking head off. Instead, I stood up from my seat and grabbed Ash's wrist. I pulled him up and stormed off to go outside. While doing so, I could hear Paul starting to sing All My Loving. Such a beautiful song to which I didn't know who it was for. Sometimes they wrote songs about nobody.