The End (Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 34

JOHN

The paper poked at my leg. It prodded at my thigh. I felt it screaming, when I rested my hand on top of my pants pocket. It flirted with my attention under my guitar. It stabbed me enviously when Yoko sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck.

The whole rehearsal the paper tempted and bullied me. It tugged at my pants seams, trying to pull itself out of my pocket, trying to reveal itself in front of Yoko. It danced wildly when I stood up, so crazy that I had to throw my hand on top of my pants to make sure it hadn't jumped out. It weighed down my leg, and I walked with a limp.

The heavy ink of Prudence's handwriting tantalized me, before I had even seen it. The mysterious address and phone number sneaked glances at me, and then furtively hid itself when I turned to look.

I could sneak out of the studio, say I'm going to the can or getting a snack or somat...

Come on, the paper whispered in my ear, right here, right now.

My hands slapped each one of my pockets. I was looking for a cigarette. In its travels, my left hand quickly- accidentally- pulled out the paper and sneaked it between the index and middle finger.

The cigarette could wait.

The paper pulsed in my hand. It grew warm with the clammy flesh. Its heartbeat matched mine.

That's right, now just go to the phone...

Prudence's laugh tinkled between my fingers. I felt sweat snake its way down my back.

"Alright, that's enough for today-"

I threw my guitar off and shot out of my seat. Without speaking, I grabbed Yoko's hand and began to tug her out of the studio.

"John, slow down!" Yoko breathed behind me. I came to an abrupt stop, but Yoko knew to move out of the way before a collision could happen. 

I turned on my heels and marched to George, who was standing and packing his guitar in its case.

"George," I said, and he turned to look at me.

"What?"

I stuck my hand out and dropped the throbbing paper into his case. It screamed the complete journey down, and crashed onto the wood of the guitar.

"Don't ever do that to me again."

George stared at me, eyes wider than usual, one eyebrow raised, mouth slightly open, and nodded slowly.

I spun around and left, Yoko in tow.

PRUDENCE

With a frustrated sigh, I tore the paper out of the sketchbook and tossed it on the floor. It landed next to the rest of the crumpled sheets in the wastebasket.

"This is bollocks," I grumbled to myself, dropping my head onto the sketchbook. I let the book drop onto the desk, and the pencil after it.

I turned to the wall clock, and rolled my eyes back. It's been three hours like this, sitting and trying to design outfits, but to no avail. What would start as a dress would dissolve into meaningless scribbles.

There was no big project at the end of the week. No meeting with buyers. I had filled my quota for the week days ago. I could've gone home if I wanted to. I only attempted to design to distract myself. Since yesterday's lunch with George, I felt... uneasy. No, that's not quite the right word. Hesitant. As if I was being pushed into a world that I didn't belong in, where celebrities cheated on each other and hid in alleyways and wrote songs about their secrets for all the world to see.