Tell Me What You See

You Like Me Too Much

Paul sat at the kitchen table, his elbow on it and his head rested in his hand. He ran his other hand through his hair as the events of the night finally hit him. Three days until what? Until he and John died? Until he saw if Vicky would be safe or if all three would be? The whole thing seemed to overwhelm, he just couldn't think they could die in the prime of their lives. They still had so much to give, he knew he did and John too. Vicky was a young sweet girl and he hoped she'd make it. You never though of your mortality until it hit you in the face. Now it did as he poured a drink down his throat and felt the burn as the glass hit the table.

Tonight hadn't turned out as he had hoped. The whole weekend hadn't. He thought they were safe and he could freely explore his feelings for Rita more. Now, George and Rita had said he was surrounded by a death that couldn't touch him until Wednesday. Paul shivered at the image of the black hooded shadows watching him and wondered if they were still there. He took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled harshly. He fidgeted with a pack of smokes and then hit them on the table, letting one fall out. He picked it up and lit it. The cigarette drooped from his mouth as he poured another drink. He picked his head up so he could take the smoke from his mouth and have another belt of scotch. It was then he notice his hand was shaking and felt the impact of the fear gripping him. He put the glass down and watched his left hand shaking. With disgust he placed it on the table, his feeling were spilling out physically and he hated that, always did.

He wished John were there with his "No worries we ain't goin anywhere. You'll see when we wake on the tenth." He wished he could be as sure as John, or was John just being a poser. He didn't know if he was, but he did know that he needed that strength whether John was putting them on or not. Paul wondered how John's night was going with that beautiful bird he spoke of. It had to be better then what they went through. He wondered what John's answer to this evening's event would be.

He poured a few more drinks and pounded them down. He didn't know what else to do. He didn't usually turn down great sex, except of courseif it would become too sticky in the end. He laughed bitterly at how ironic that was. Friend's girls had propositioned him and that was something he never relished or wanted. Well, if she were a looker he'd ponder it a sec and then think better of it. Paul pondered all of this as he had several more drinks and his cigarettes filled the ashtray in front of him. He looked to the window and saw the dawn breaking through the darkness. Light seemed to comfort him a bit as he realized his eyes were growing heavy with sleep. He put out his smoke and with the light of the kitchen walked out into the living room.

He stared at George who slept so soundly. A smile spread across his face as Paul remembered how things were when they were younger. How things seemed simpler. Had it only been a few years ago? To him it felt like a whole lifetime. He sat on the table watching George, oblivious to all around him as he was curled on his side under the blanket safe and warm. He remembered how they had shared many single beds together before the Beatles, and in Hamburg. How they all had laid on each other to keep warm in Neil's van on early tours, flip flopping when the one on top got cold. They were close; they had to be in order for all four lads to do something like that, and make it through Beatlemania. George and he had been closer back then too. Now, they seemed to be feeling that closeness again, only he didn't like the circumstances involved in making that so. Sharing one single bed together in their youth seemed so innocent. He longed to curl up next to George, feel safe, warm, and have that innocence back. George had gone a bit sparce tonight, but he did it to save Paul. Paul had felt that love so many times over the last few weeks. He thought about what George had said, how nothing could touch Paul through him. George was his shield tonight; he smiled at how it reminded him of a knight, and George had used himself as that human shield. Now that was love of a true mate.

Paul's hands held up his head, it fell a few times and he realized just how tired he was. He wondered if George would mind if he slipped in with him, just like they used too. There was plenty of room if he slept on his side like George. Paul's stomach was in knots, even with all he drank. He looked around nervously to see if the shadows were still stalking him. He couldn't see them, he hadn't before and so he figured they just very well could be anywhere. This unsettled him and again curling up with George seemed more appealing. He shrugged and pulled the quilt down a bit and crawled in, careful not to wake George. Snuggled up under the blanket he felt George's body curl into his and George's arm flop over his chest. He wondered if George thought he were Pattie. God, he hoped not. But being close made him feel like a child again, craving that safety, and to him that's was George. Laying there nothing could touch him and he could relax. It didn't take long before the safe warm feeling of their closeness lulled him to sleep.