And Our Birds Can Sing (A Beatles Story)

Chapter One

//John's POV\\

Given the chance of finally finishing this damned song, I would've probably been napping. Unfortunately, Paul is in the absolute worst mood today.
I don't blame him either. The studio work for this album really takes a toll on you.

I mean think about it, only around thirty percent of the record is actually us playing. The rest is just boring crap like "Mixing Speeds" or "Merging The Tuning"...ugh. Where's George Martin when you need him?

Well...unlike him, the gang was all there. Either sitting at the soundboard or sitting on a couch, reading a book.

"Woah. Guys. You won't believe the ending to this. It's too brilliant." Ringo said, while gripping the bottom of the page, flipping it to the next.

George looked up from his novel, to see what he was reading. "What book is that, Rings?" He asked, squinting to get a closer look.

"Ah, ah. Now that I told you about the ending I can't tell you what story I'm reading." Ringo blocked the cover.

"Can you even read?" George mumbled, chuckling afterwards.

Ringo gave a sarcastic smile as he slipped a bookmark between his fingers and launched it towards George. It barely hit him. George began to laugh harder. "Aw c'mon Ringo, I was jus' teasin'."

"I know." Ringo laughed as well. "Plus, that tease hit me weaker than the bookmark hit you." He began to look back into the novel. Almost like he was 'back in the zone'.

George began to look around him. Just a skim through what was going on. His eyes eventually locked on mine from a few feet away. He quickly looked away, he seemed...uncomfortable.

I don't know. Ever since last year he's been real cautious of me. We never really had a one on one conversation. I got the feeling he was scared of me. Or worse.

Scared of himself, from me.

But of course George is comfortable around me. I've known him for almost 8 years. He's gotta trust me somehow.

He has to.

"....George?" I asked him steadily. I hesitated at first not to talk to him in case he isn't too fond of me anymore. But I went for it.

He paused at first.

Was he ignoring me?! That prick!

"Ye John?" He asked lowly.

Alright. False alarm. Moving on.

"What's making you feel so isolated from me? Ever since the uh...'adventure' we all had last year. You've been really distancing yourself from me."

George looked like a dear in headlights. I imagined he was paralyzed in thought. "Uhhh....I..." He struggled to find the book in his hand and began to look down back into it, taking heavy breaths.

"Ey, don't gimme that fuckin' armadillo shit. Don't roll up into a ball. Prop up and tell me th' truth." I giggled at the thought of an armadillo, because #1 I just realized how funny I was in that comment. And #2, because Armadillo's are frickin' hilarious.

"S-Sorry John. I can't tell you." He sounded terrified. "I really can't."

Paul tapped my elbow from across the mixing board. He whispered : "Don't make him tell you, man. C'mon."

I found he had a lot of respect for George. Sure, there's that stupid "he's like my baby brother" comment he always uses. But deep down, I know he's his favorite out of the three of us.