How to Change the World

Chapter 8

Germany looked like a nice place from up here. Celle, especially, was a mixture of the country side and city, enough for him to relax a while. They'd been filming the beginning of "How I Won the War", and taking a nice break in Paris. Of all places, Paris. He hoped Paul was enjoying his little vacation from all the Beatles. Though it was hard to avoid the publicity he received.

He hoped Paul enjoyed his vacation from him.

He liked to beat himself up, trying to make himself believe that he was better than the things he hated... or in this case loved. Except he didn't love Paul. He couldn't, it wasn't normal.

He supposed it wasn't weird to have these feelings. They were only part of being human, to be odd from the rest. Brian surely looked like he was having a dandy time having them. Trouble with it was Paul. God he couldn't stop saying his name over and over in his head, God it was killing him.

He stepped away from the balcony and returned to his hotel room bed. The sheets were ruffled from his anxious perusing. Maybe it was a cliché that now he believed that the things he loved the most destroyed us. It sounded sappy on paper, but when it happens it's reality. It's tough. Unimaginable.

But why?

His hands reached his forehead as if he were subconsciously trying to rub away all his misfortunes. Perhaps there was a bright side to this? The media seemed to be responding well, and people were buying the record from what he heard. Oh god the record! How is he gonna stand months with Paul in the same room recording the next one?

"Well Lennon, you've got yourself in such a big mess, that yer talkin' to yourself in a hotel room."

It was the phone ringing from the wall that distracted him from his thoughts. He gathered his weight to answer.

"Hello?"

"John, it's Brian. Now about Paris tomorrow..."

Wonder if Brian knew.

"... Paul will be joining you and Neil-"

He obviously didn't know. That's why John hung up the phone, because he didn't want to bother to even begin to deal with anything. This whole tangled knot he has in him is a mess.

Maybe he should take on wearing those glasses he got a few days ago.

~*~

It was raining the day he and Neil took a train ride to Paris. They were meant to spend the weekend there, and meet Paul and Brian. Maybe he and Brian exchange methods of fucking blokes together. What a ridiculous thing to think, John.

How convenient it was for the mood as water fell from the sky. The clouds covered the blue expansion and there was more darkness than light.

After an exhausting ride that's only highlight was its suspense, John and Neil took another trip in a car. He didn't want to see Paul, and yet it was riveting. His anxiousness translated into resentment, anger, but somehow want.

His fingers tapped an inconceivable tune on the side of the door, to the annoyance of the passengers in the car.

They arrived at a remote restaurant, Neil handling the talking because John was rather unable to in the moment. They were escorted by the server across the room. There was an ambience in the room. There were conversations, hundreds of them, all warped together into one symphony. There was a fragrance of French delicacies traveling the room. In any other situation this would have been calming, however this was not any other situation.

He first saw Paul talking to Brian, engaged in something else. His hands, the same ones that he felt not to long ago, synchronized with the words coming out of his mouth. His lips were red like roses, or maybe that was the lighting, but they looked soft like one. He didn't want to think about it too much. He didn't want to focus on how Paul looked, and how much the urge in the back of his mind pleaded for more. Something beyond just a look.