Nobody Wants To Know Him

XVII - Look At Me

Wednesday 27th December 1972
Liverpool, England
2.24am

In theory, I should've been asleep within seconds. I was completely exhausted from the day.

John had put me in the bedroom closest to his. The room itself was a fair bit smaller than both his and George's, but that didn't matter. It was still rather big.

Both Paul and Ringo were on the top floor. I hope Ringo managed to get Paul up to his room - he had far too much to drink.

It was quite an interesting experience. I was a fan of Paul's music. Of course I knew he was from Liverpool, everyone did. My physics teacher in school claimed he taught Paul once upon a time and there were always people saying that they were best friends with him before he was famous. Whether that was true or not, we'd never know.

But John was actually friends with him. Not just friends, best mates! Although, if he told me that beforehand, I never would've believed him.

Still, seeing the Paul McCartney stumble around drunk was definitely something I'd never forget.

I couldn't sleep. The clock on the bedside table said it was half two in the morning.

There were several things on my mind - John of course, this whole night, that kiss with Tim...

Shit. Charlie said I should've told John about that. It should've been a simple explanation, really. All I could've done was hope that he wouldn't be pissed. Technically, John and I weren't anything at that point, so it didn't mean anything in that sense.

But we were something now, weren't we? That's what he asked, and that's what I agreed to.

Now was obviously not the right time to tell John, but I knew the longer I put off telling him, the worse it'd get for me, and when I did tell him it'd be awful. I didn't want to destroy his trust for me before we even started anything by having him think I was keeping stuff.

Fuck. I couldn't get John out of my mind.

Events of the night were replaying in my head. His mouth on my neck and hands on my thighs as we were at the dinner table, him coming up to me on the floor when I was with George and Paul before everything kicked off, that kiss to shut him up in the garden...

Before I knew it, I was sliding out of bed. What was I doing?

I tiptoed out of my bedroom and through the sitting room that was connected to his room. The doorknob was cold against the palm of my hand as I gently twisted it open. As I pushed the door ajar slightly, it gave a creak which was loud in contrast to the silence of the house.

I froze, expecting John to wake up. Thank goodness he didn't.

Beneath the duvet, he was lying on the left hand side of the bed, out like a light. I could see his body underneath the covers rise and fall rhythmically, snoring softly.

What was my plan? I knew he wasn't awake, so what was I here for? I told him I wouldn't stay tonight, so what was I doing here?

Quietly, I crept over to the right hand side, and slid under with him, the bed creaking. Immediately, the warmth from under the duvet enveloped me. I did my best to be quiet as to not wake him.

John let out a small groan before his eyes fluttered open tiredly. Shit! I was trying not to wake him up.

"______?" He whispered groggily into the silence.

"Mhm."

It was dark, but the moonlight streaked in from a gap in the curtains enough for me to see a smile on his face.