𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter thirty-seven: why a duck❜❜

❧John POV☙

I felt like crying when I was in my bed again beside Cynthia. I was so disappointed with the outcome I just had to face. The words "this was all a mistake" kept ringing in my head, bouncing around the walls in chambers of my mind. I knew that she knew deep down it wasn't, but she was just so clouded by the ignorance of her own worries. She didn't even have to say what it was that made her stop because I could already tell. It was Cyn. She was upset at the thought that she was being immoral. Personally, I believe that it doesn't much matter about morals if it's what your heart really wants, and mine wants Lizzie. But I should have known better with a girl like her that has such a pure heart. She can't do any wrong, and if she deems this as a "bad decision," then she isn't going to do it. I had to confront that.

❧Elizabeth POV☙
❧February 8, 1964☙

George complained, "God, I feel unwell. Me head is poundin'."

Paul scoffed, "Yer alright. I doubt you've gotten ill."

"I dunno, Macca, feel me forehead," The younger one pointed at his face.

Paul reached over and pressed the back of his hand on George. A shock went over his face.

"You see! I wasn't kiddin' you, was I?" Hassa glared.

I sat at the breakfast table with the lads, purposely as far away from John as possible. Cynthia was sitting next to him, trying to catch his attention, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. I hated that I kept staring at him, but he was like a magnet to my eyes. He looked like he hadn't had enough sleep, sadly. I knew the reason, too, because it was also the reason I didn't sleep. I'd been so worried about that stupid kiss, which shouldn't have happened. I think we were both tired out of our minds, not thinking straight. I know that I never would've done that in my right mind. Unlike most people, I actually have morals. Cheating is a big no-no in my book and should be in everyones. Just one problem, I exactly did that. It made me feel a bit ill because it was so unlike me to go against myself. I have to admit, though, the kiss was nice. I can remember that, and I guess, in a way, I'm happy it happened. Which is why I feel so confused. I want to be angry it occurred because I'm sure as hell angry with myself for breaking morals, but I just can't be mad about it. It was too lovely and felt... perfect? Like that's what I had been missing out on for so long. The thing I'd lost. Maybe I was getting too ahead of myself, but I tended to do that.

"Izzy, you sound?" Paul poked me with his fork.

I groaned, "Get yer grotty fork away from me. And how many nicknames are you lot goin' to give me before you run out? I feel like there's a new one every day."

Rings chuckled, "Awh, cheer up, Higs."

"Higs?!" I questioned him with annoyance.

He nodded, "Right you are, Higgabel."

"Higgins," Paul added.

"Piggins."

"Piggy."

"I'll slice yer throats open if you call me Piggy," I joking pointed a knife at Paul.

"But, Higs, it's cute, though," Macca frowned.

"How many nicknames do you have?" Cynthia asked me.

I turned my head to look at her. I wished she had never spoken. Before I knew it, both Rings and Paul were like tin cans rolling down a hill.

"Eliza."

"Liza."

"Liz."

"Lizzie."