Nobody Wants To Know Him

XXXVII - It's Only Love

Friday 1st June 1973
Liverpool, England
10.43am

The disappointment felt by John after he had been told his bestest friend was too busy to work with him was immeasurable. I could feel it radiating off of him in waves even if he wouldn't admit it verbally. It had seemed that he had spent a lot of mind-power on building up the will and courage despite himself and his own reluctance to ask Paul to write and make music with him again, something which they hadn't done since they were young children, and was severely let down by the outcome.

Really, it shouldn't have come as a shock. He had Wings and was perfectly satiated, although he did say he would be more than happy to work with John when he was less occupied and was glad he had even considered it in the first place. They even had a new album was coming out the following week, and they were touring it. But that had seemed to flit past both of our minds - mine when I suggested it, and John's when he eventually agreed. And, in hindsight, part of me felt guilty I had even suggested it in the first place now that I had seen how disheartened John was now.

I stepped out of the shower, rubbing the towel through my hair as I wrapped it around my body and walked out of the en suite into our bedroom. Pulling on some clothes, I made the bed - which had been haphazardly tidied by none other than John - properly, and went back into the bathroom to hang up the towel.

When I walked back into the bedroom, John was stood in the doorway looking around the room with a glum expression on his face. I raised an eyebrow at him before looking for a hairbrush.

"Yer brother just called," John stated. "He was callin' for ye, but I told him ye were in the shower."

"What did he want?"

"Apparently ye told him he'd be welcome 'round for tea some time with that bloke he likes, or whatever. Tom, or somethin', like."

Ah, yes. I did recall saying that. John knew about Charlie and the fact that he had a boyfriend, and it actually wasn't really surprising that he was extremely nonchalant about it. Generally speaking, John was a pretty open-minded person, what with his lingering interest in avant-garde art and modern interpretation of the world, even if he was a bit dense when it came to other things. If anything, he was more intrigued in my brother's lifestyle and attraction to men and would probably bombard him with questions whenever he next got the chance.

"Oh, yeah. I did tell him that. What did ye say to him?"

"Well, y'know," John gestured loosely around him. "Told him we didn't have any plans tonight, if he wanted to come for supper he could bring that Tom with him."

"Tonight?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Not doing anythin', are we?"

I shook my head in confirmation and smiled. Recently, John was much more open to meeting new people and socialising, a stark contrast to what he was like when I first met him.

"Nope," I replied. "Tonight it is then. We best get preparing."

"It's only ten o'clock, luv!"

______

5.32pm

I watched out of the corner of my eye as John lounged on the small leather armchair which was situated in the corner of the dining room while I fussed about with the cutlery on the table.

"Relax, ______," he drawled, eyes fixing on me beneath his new pair of lightly tinted glasses. "They're not coming until seven."

I scrunched my nose at him as I laid the forks down next to the placemats. "Can't ye help instead of yapping?" My playful quip earned a silly grin from him.