I always loved John, from the moment we met at the church. Being gay in the 60s wasn't really an option. All those moments behind the bleachers, backstage during concerts. We knew we couldn't be together but we were so in-love we didn't think it mattered as long as we were happy. I always wanted to tell him all the things I felt for him, but I never thought that one day, I'd lose him.
1 MONTH BEFORE
John reached for Paul under the table during their first big interview. "We've finally had our big break!" Paul whispered to John. John pulled his hand away, feeling embarrassed. "Paul! Not here." He wiped his hand quickly and acted as though nothing had happened, placing it back on the microphone In front of him. "So how do you feel about all this new attention?" Before either of them could say anything, George quickly answered, "we're just so happy that everyone enjoys our music! It's about doing what we love, not about the attention." "Although the attention is pretty great isn't it?" John added. George chuckled and Paul frowned. Why would John need attention from anyone else other than me? "But of course we'd never let it get in the way of our band. We're all like brothers and we're very close." Paul cringed as he said the word, "brothers". John glared at him. What was that? Why did he look at me that way?
After the interview, the band members talked about how it went. Paul talks about how invasive the interviewer was, George disagrees, and John stays silent all while Ringo packed their things in the back. As they walk out of the venue, Paul pulls john to the side. "John, what's the matter? You can tell me..." as he got closer to John, he pushed him way. "Paul." Oh no. "We need to talk." Paul felt his heart drop into his stomach as he thought of all the things that John was about to say. "What is it...John?" His voice was shaky and he felt like running away. "I don't think we should be doing this anymore." Paul's eyes widened, "what do you mean? I thought-" John cut him off, "Thought what? Huh? What did you think Paul? That we were just going to continue to live in this fairy tail world where this is okay..?" Paul felt the tears in his eyes as John continued, "What even are we doing here Paul?! Tell me." He stepped closer to John and took his hand, "I thought we loved each-other, John." John cringed and pulled his hand away. "Well clearly there was a miscommunication here."
John walked off, picking up his guitar on his way out. There, Paul stood, crying until he couldn't feel his face anymore. He didn't go home that night. He spent the early morning hours hopping from bus to bus wondering what went wrong. What he could have done to make John feel such things.
TWO WEEKS BEFORE
On the day of the concert, Paul was late. "Where is he?!" Ringo said, panicking backstage. "John what did you tell him?" George added, pulling back the curtain and realizing how many people were in the stadium. "This is Bad." John looked over, "I don't know what you're talking about." His voice was stern and cold. "You know what were talking about." Ringo replied, "I didn't tell him shit, Ringo. Let it go. He's not coming." Just as the last words came out of Johns mouth, Paul appeared from the darkness. "I'm not as unreliable as you, John." Paul opened his Bass case and placed the strap over his shoulder. "Are we going to do this, or not?" He pushed his way passed John, intentionally bumping his shoulder and stepping out onto the stage.
After the concert, the band was quiet. They all packed their things and left on their own, rather than waiting for waiting for each-other. Paul had second thoughts right before he reached his car. I should talk to him. I have to see him. He turned as fast as he could and began running down the parking lot, looking for John. He stopped. There stood John, his lips on another woman's, as they embraced. When John noticed Paul was standing there, it was already too late, "Paul I-" "is this why? Is this why you said all those things last week?!" His voice getting louder. "What was I supposed to do Paul?!" John let go of the strange woman and stood to face him. "Not this!" He began to scream this time he spoke. "I don't know what you thought but I love Yoko! She's my girlfriend and she's the only one for me, Paul!!" Paul took a step back as John tried to come closer, "stay away from me!" He ran away crying and sped home as fast as he could.
THE DAY
The day John died, it was raining. The band hadn't talked in weeks and Paul felt like they never would again. Just as he thought this, the phone rang. "Hello?" He answered, "Hello. Is this Paul McCartney? At ***** residence?" "Yes, and who's this?" He felt confused, who could be calling? "This is the LPPD we've called to inform you that your friend, John Lennon was shot. He didn't make it." Paul dropped the phone, felt the tears coming down his face, and bolted out the door as fast as he could. This is not happening. This is not happening. How is is this happening? When he made it to the hospital, he tried desperately to explain to the front desk lady what happened, "please! I just need to see him! His names John! John Lennon!" He shook a picture of John violently on the woman's face as he pointed to it, crying. "I'm sorry sir but you can't go in there." Paul shoved the picture in his pocket, yelling. "This is ridiculous! How could you not let me see my best friend!? You are a terrible human!" Ignoring the woman, he ran past the desk and to the back where they would be keeping John. He couldn't make it before hospital security stopped him. "Sir calm down!" "No! Let me go! I have to see him! Please!! Let me see him!!" He couldn't remember everything after because they tranquilized him, but he would remember all the pain, all the terrible memories from that day, forever.
ONE MONTH AFTER
Driving in his car, Paul knew it was time to go see him. He turned into the local seminary and got out of his car, flowers in hand. He walked to the grave marked "John Lennon-never forgotten, always remembered." He stared for a while, and then he spoke. "John...I miss you." He found himself clenching his fists, and throwing the fresh flowers as hard as he could against the grave. "Dammit John!" Paul began to sob. "All I ever wanted was to be with you! I love you! I loved you!"
That night, when he returned home, the house felt empty, his heart empty. "Why John..? Why..?" He cried softly, as he wept himself to sleep.
