ℙ𝔸𝕀ℕ ⇒ 𝕁𝕆ℍℕ 𝕃𝔼ℕℕ𝕆ℕ

⋄ ⅩⅩⅩⅤⅠⅠⅠ ⋄

❝𝕬 𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝖜𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖓𝖊'𝖘 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋,❞

...

| December 12th, 1964 |

John's POV

Exactly a week has passed since the fateful day of December fifth, and tensions have still been high strung. When John and George were in the same room together, they sat as far away from each other, refused to converse, and exchanged glares and vulgar gestures.

John still hasn't been informed by Charlotte's absence, and when he asked Ringo, the drummer shook his head and told them she was at school. When he asked Paul at his house late at night (when she couldn't have been at school), the bassist said she was at home sleeping. John was beginning to become suspicious by her absenteeism, and he decided to do some investigating.

He found the spare key where Charlotte usually left it and opened the door slowly, slipping inside quickly. Once he entered the house, he silently shut the door and looked around, seeing everything in order. The man explored the house, searching for anything out of place. When he walked into the bathroom, he noticed an empty pill bottle on the tile and a towel laying on the floor near it. The lights were on and he saw balled up rolls of toilet paper in the trash can, probably for wiping tears.

John picked up the bottle and rotated it to read the label, it read.

'Tylenol, Acetaminophen, Extra Strength, 24 caplets, 500 mg each'

He set it on the counter and thought long and hard about the situation at hand. Charlotte found out he kissed her, she came home, and opened pills. John gasped, it all came together perfectly, like a puzzle. Charlotte was sad and guilty she caused a rift in the boys' friendship and came home sad, impulsively acting on taking her own life. John wouldn't put it past her to do such a thing, so he rushed out of the apartment and towards the studio, eager to spill the shocking news.

"I know what happened to Carlotta!" John gasped as he ran into the studio out of breath.

Paul, George, and Ringo glanced at each other uneasily, they knew it was inevitable that he would find out, they just didn't think that time would come so soon.

"What happened to her?" George crossed his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at John.

"She tried to kill herself," John's demeanor changed from solemn to angry in a split second. "and you lot didn't tell me,"

Paul was quick to defend the group.

"Well we didn't wanna tell you because it would have distracted you from writing our song," He came up with something off of the top of his head.

"Well, yeah, me friend tried to fuckin' kill herself!" He shouted, losing his temper rapidly. "Ya don't think I'd be bloody worried? Or do ya take me for some heartless bastard?"

The others stayed silent, not wanting to respond to the question. But again, Paul took a stand to try and calm him down.

"John, we—"

"No, Paul, don't even fuckin' start with me," John stopped yelling, but his voice was blunt and stern. "You, you all, hid this from me! How long ago was it anyways? Yesterday? Two days ago? A week ago?!"