Golden Lockets

Don't Let Me Down

It took John several seconds before he understood what he had just done. He jerked backwards and pushed away from Paul, wiping his mouth as if it had been smeared with slug slime. John went bright red when he saw the alarmed faces of both Paul and Ringo. No one spoke. No one dared to breathe.

"I knew you two were queer!" Ringo cried. His mouth was hanging open with shock and his eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"Wow, John." Paul said softly. He put his fingers to his lips, as if he wasn't sure they were still attached to his face. His cheeks flushed peony and his eyes were sparkling. "What was that for? It felt... it felt kinda of nice."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." John mumbled, then he thought to himself,  "Did I really just do that?"

Paul stood still, his eyes fixated on John. He could feel the heat rising into his cheeks. Then he shook his head and turned back to face the door. Once again John flung himself against it. His cheeks were still a red as Rudolph's nose but his eyes were solemn.

"Please, Johnny," Paul murmured, "You've had your fun, now please let us through."

"No, I can't -- it's so -- but I --" John couldn't find it in him to form a proper sentence.

Paul cupped his friend's cheek in his hands so John was forced to look straight at him. He looked intently into John's frightened face with big, pleading eyes. "Please, Johnny?" 

John tried to say something but nothing came. He didn't have the strength to resist them anymore. All he could do was step silently to the side and lay his hand on the doorknob. Before he opened the door he stared directly at Paul. "Now, before I let you in, just keep an open mind."

"Of course, John." Paul said, trying to push past him. John laid a hand on Paul's chest.

"A really open mind." John raised an eyebrow then slowly pushed the door open.

* * * *

There was an awkward silence. Paul and Ringo narrowed their eyes at the sight that lay before them, as if they weren't quite whether it was real or not. There was George, looking completely petrified, lying on his bed. George looked worn out. The lines in his face showed the hurt on his mind and on his person. His face looked slim, with an almost ghostly pallor. The life in his eyes had faded away, not even a glimmer of happiness could be seen. George's eyes were lackluster, and the lines around his mouth had vanished from the absence of a smile.  He was wearing a wrinkled shirt and on his feet was a pair of black woolen socks. On the floor beside the bed Paul could see George's jacket, pants, shoes, even his underpants discarded in a heap.

In short, George was in poor shape. His face crumpled, as if he was about to burst into tears.

Paul and Ringo shot an outraged yet perplexed look at John, clearly wanting answers.

"What the bloody hell..." Ringo began, but he was too shocked to finish his sentence.

John slunk off into a corner of the room, hanging his head in what seemed like shame and trauma. George scrabbled frantically to pull the duvet up. (His lower half was totally exposed and he was shy about things like that.) He stared down at his hands. He couldn't stand to look Paul or Ringo in the eye. Everything was too embarrassing and awful. Paul's face was turning redder by the second, and soon he glared at John. "What's going on here, John?" he snapped.

"Have you guys been..." Ringo made a gesture with his hands, clamping them together and making silly, slurping kissing sounds. He raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Paul cried, froth forming on his lip, "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Now, Paul, take it easy!" George pleaded in a small voice, "It's not what you think."

"All right, George! What is it, then? Have you and Lennon been getting it on in your own bed?!"

"No! I would never do that!" George was nearly in tears. He sighed, then very slowly and carefully got to his feet. He bent down and felt under the bed. Paul was about to object but could tell George was in a lot of pain, so kept his mouth shut.

George pulled a small cardboard box out from under the bed. The box was giving out small, mournful sobs. No one said a word towards this. George placed the box on top of the bed and opened the flaps. Everyone in the room stared at what was inside. Paul's mouth fell open. Ringo's eyebrows shot so far upwards they were hidden under his fringe. John made a small, despairing noise.

Other than that, no sounds were made. The room was so silent you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.