Illegal Love - McLennon and Starrison

The Ballad of John and Yoko

1968

"No, no, not like that!" John scolded. "Do it like this!" He tried to grab the drumsticks.

"Just tell me what I'm doing wrong!" Ringo whimpered.

"It's not what you're doing wrong, it's what you aren't doing right!"

"That's it!" He threw the sticks to the ground. "I don't have to take this! You know what, I quit!"

"Ringo!"

"Fine, see if I care!"

"Ringo, please!" George reached for him. He just shook his head and left.

"Good job, John," Paul deadpanned. "There goes the drummer."

"Oh, fuck off! We don't need him!"

"He's just as important as the rest of us!"

"No, you aren't important enough!" John let out a sad sigh. "I'm tired of fighting."

"Me too."

He looked up again. "Paulie...we should break up."

"Wh - what?" Paul's jaw dropped. "Really? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, you deserve better anyways. Besides, we can't live like this, being closeted queers. I'm sorry."

"I thought you loved me," he whispered.

"Yes, I do! I just -"

"Save it." Paul tried not to let the tears fall down. "I don't care anymore, do whatever you want." He went out the door just like Ringo had done.

"Nice," George spat. "Maybe he does deserve better. Anyone other than you." He ran after a hysterical Paul.

John sat down in the middle of the empty room, all alone. "What happened to us?"

---

"Ringo?! Where are you?!"

"Uh, Sardinia." A slight pause. "I miss you."

"I miss you more." George touched the phone, pretending it was his face. "Are you doing alright?"

"I guess so, did I miss anything?"

"Yeah, John and Paul broke up," he muttered.

"They WHAT?!" Ringo gasped. "You're kidding!"

"Sadly, I'm not. Paul's a wreck, I've never seen him so upset. Things are getting worse, Ringsy. Please come back to us as soon as you can. I love you."

"I'll try." He hung up without saying he loved him back.

George sighed, running his hand through his long hair. "Maybe Paul can play the drums."

"I'll give it a shot," he whispered, avoiding John's gaze. "I guess it's okay to touch his drums just this one time. Maybe he won't mind."

"Hello?" a familiar voice called.

"You've got to be kidding me," George growled. "This is exactly what we don't need right now." Lo and behold, it was Yoko 'oh no' that came strolling in like she owned the place.

"Oh, fuck that!" Paul threw the drumsticks at the wall. "I can't deal with this right now!"

"James Paul McCartney, don't be so rude to our guest!" John yelled.

"'Guest' my arse! No girlfriends in the studio!"

"Says who?!"

"Says all of us ever!" George pulled Paul back, making him growl. "Let go, Geo!"

"Not until you calm down and work this out. I'll be back." He stomped outside, lighting a cigarette. As he exhaled, he thought about the last five years.

"Georgie, you'll always be mine."

"I'll never forget the first time I laid eyes on you. The way you laughed, the way you looked...yeah, I want to see that every day for the rest of me life."

"You love me for me, you never cared about how I looked. You're incredible. I'll never leave you, not for anything else in the world, or my name isn't Richard Starkey."

"Dammit!" George stomped the cig flat, punching the studio wall. "You promised! You promised you'd stay! Where are you, Ritchie?! I need you! I need you! I NEED YOU!" He slid down the wall, looking at his bloody knuckles.

And then he wept.

---

"I love you, John!"

"I love you more. Paulie shouldn't be back for a while, and Ringo won't get here for another hour now. What would you like to do during this time? Just talk? Or maybe less talk and more of this."

Paul crumpled up the paper he had kept in his room for months; a song he tried to write for John. It meant nothing to him now, who cares? It probably didn't mean anything to him, either. "What if - what if he never loved me at all? No, he did, didn't he? I don't know anything anymore, maybe that's for the best." He casually strolled into the studio, only to come to a sudden stop.

They were kissing.

John jerked away from Yoko quickly, fixing his hair with a grunt. "Hey."

"H - hey?" he stammered.

"You're early."

Well, no shit, he thought. "Yeah, I am."

"Huh."

"I'm uh, I'm gonna go take care of something. Yeah, that thing." Paul ran. He didn't know where he was running to, he just ran. "Damn you, Lennon! Damn you to hell!" The asphalt cracked slightly underneath his fists. "I hate you!" Cars honked, trying to swerve out of his way. As if it actually mattered. "I. HATE. YOU!"

No you don't, you love him.

Shut up! I can't trust him anymore!

He loves you too, remember? He just wants to hurt you.

Bit late for that, isn't it? Just shut up and let me die in peace.

"Maybe it was something I did, that has to be it." Paul regained enough sense to get out of the street. "But what could I have done? I don't think it was a problem with sex, maybe we didn't spend enough time together? How often did we say 'I love you'? Or maybe I'm boring."

"What makes you say that?" Ringo offered his hand. "I heard what happened, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, sorry." Paul hugged him tight. "Thanks for coming back."

"I could never leave you guys forever. Let's go back to the studio."

"Okay," he mumbled softly. They walked in, only to freeze. "What the hell?"

"What's this?" Ringo tilted his head, seeing his drum set literally covered in flowers. "It's beautiful!"

"Glad you like it, Ringsy." George stepped out of hiding. "It took a while, sadly."

"George, I love it. But I love you more." He threw his arms around his neck, kissing him eagerly as Paul looked on.

John may never kiss me like that again.