Growing Up Beside You [John Lennon/Beatles Fanfiction]

36. The more the merrier (1)

A/N: I'm still in the process of writing this chapter, so the content below is just a small, introductory snippet. Enjoy!

Sunday 10th February 1957

Celia knocked on the maroon-painted door, her knuckles making a rhythm that sounded more confident than she felt. This was the address given to her over the telephone, yet Celia still doubted her own assurance for the fear of foolishly standing where she shouldn't have been. She removed the tiny folded slip of paper from her coat and looked at the transcription again. 1 Blomfield Road, Springwood estate, Allerton. The street sign on the side of the house read just that, and so did the big, brass number on the door in front of her. She was exactly where she was supposed to be, but of course, Celia knew that already. The nerves had set her back a little and she wasn't quite ready to admit that she was here to do what she'd come here to do.

Celia frowned as she crumbled the address in her fist before shoving it back inside her pocket. She took a step closer to the door, cupped her hands over the sides of her face and peered through the frosted glass, hoping to spot some movement. The
hallway light wasn't on, but that didn't mean anyone wasn't home. The upbeat music drifting through an open window confirmed that the building was occupied by its seemingly lively inhabitants. Somewhere inside that house, high-pitched giggles entwined with the crumbly static of the wireless.

Celia tried rapping on the door again, her stomach pulling tighter with each loud knock. It had been four days since she'd seen John Lennon last. Six days since he'd completely blanked her existence. One whole week since he'd rejected her appreciation for that good deed of his. John's response, or lack of, surprised and saddened Celia. Sure, it angered her too, but that fury had subsided and transformed into disappointment.

John hadn't been at Quarry Bank since Wednesday afternoon. According to Eric he'd been suspended with Pete. Celia should've been overjoyed at those two and half days of tranquility, but she hadn't been. It felt..odd. You see, even before John had been kicked out, it was as though he wasn't here. The larks, the mischief, the antagonising— all his usual pain-in-the-arse antics that he'd been throwing her way within the last month, ceased to exist. He'd shrugged her off when she'd first spoken to him on Monday morning and then dismissed her completely. Not once had he tried to pinch her pens and paintbrushes, or kick the back of her chair, or pop gum in her face or interrupt her answers with his rude, derisive comments. He hadn't so much as looked Celia's way. For three days she'd become someone he didn't care to bother himself with. That wasn't what plagued Celia, though. It wasn't his attention she'd been missing. She'd been used to almost five years of him not knowing who she bloody was; why would that matter to her now? She had no reason for it to matter. No, what bothered Celia to no end was that John purposely chose to disregard her. He had the audacity to give Celia the cold shoulder when really, after the way he'd acted last Friday, she should've been the one throwing icicles at him. After that nasty interaction at the bus stop, Celia'd been prepared to avoid speaking to John for as long as she possibly could, but then he'd hit her with the unexpected and reunited her with her fountain pen. She'd been jubilant to the point where she could've cried happy tears if the shock of John's benevolence hadn't beaten her emotions to it. It had enfeebled every grain of hate she had for him and filled her with a sentiment for John that she hadn't thought possible. Though Celia hated to admit it, she'd developed a newfound appreciation for Lennon. Or at least, developed an appreciation for what he was capable of when he wasn't being such a prick.

Celia had been so willing to wave the white flag of peace and shake hands with John. Forgive and forget. Move on and start afresh with what she thought was a mutual fondness. His recent aloofness towards her, however, gave Celia reason to doubt that he really cared for her at all. The cynical shadows in Celia's mind were telling her that John was simply a master of manipulation. A player of mind games. Her sceptic thoughts were trying to convince Celia that John's acts of kindness were done with the intention of messing with her head for his own wicked contentment. Making Celia think he cared, when really he didn't care at all. Not one little bit.