Gimme Truth ( julian lennon ).

Chapter One

I sat still beside my father, watching as George sang into the microphone and moved his fingers masterfully on the guitar he held close to himself. My foot moved up and down on the floor unintentionally as he let his voice rise and fall, a beautiful harmony filling the air as each word escaped.

"Dad," I said bumming into him gently. He looked over at me, slight annoyance filling the hazel eyes that resembled my very own. "I don't want to be here."

"So you've said," he responded, turning his attention back to George. He didn't want to be here either, and I knew he wouldn't want to be here from the moment he told me he had to go see George a couple days earlier. He said it with such vemon - the word George - when he told me, that one would think that this man had killed his child and stolen his wife. George had done no such thing though; none of them had. The ex-Beatles, I mean. 

I don't remember much of The Beatles break-up, because dad never let me go to the studios much, and they stopped coming around so much, too. I saw John here and there during their final days, and whenever I did it wasn't anything special. He'd give me a halfhearted smile, tell me I looked my dad and then he'd go off into a room with my dad. They'd argue, and he'd leave red faced with Yoko in tow, and  without so much as a goodbye. Ringo came around more rarely than John did, and when he did make an appearance it was not much more a quick stop by to check up. He was always kind to me during his time at our house though, and he never let on that their was any problems when I was around.

George was a different story. I barely remember him at all during their final days. He'd never stop by the house, call or anything like that. The last time I remember seeing him before this moment was the day they signed the official document stating The  Beatles were over. He wasn't very happy, because John wasn't there to do his part, and because my dad had towed me along.

'She's too young to be in all of this Paul, you know that,' I remember him saying to my dad. My dad didn't even acknowledge this comment before he moved over to the table to sign his part. I hid behind his leg, and George left.

As I stare at him now, eight years later, I know that he only meant well, but I still don't want to be around him or in his house or studio, or anything. George was right, I am too young to be mixed in all of this Beatles drama, but my father, ever the stubborn asshole doesn't think so and won't let anyone tell him so. This being the reason I'm sat next to him, watching his ex-band mate and waiting for him to finish so they can "talk" about the recent affairs that have gone down. They always call them 'affairs' when they sue one another for silly things. I heard John is coming too, and Ringo, as well, which makes me hate being here  even more. Honestly, I think I'm the only human who doesn't crave for the four of them to be in the same room as each other.

I crossed my arms, one over the other and let out an aggravated sigh. Settling down in the chair, I fix my cold gaze down to the black Converse on my feet and I wait patiently for them to arrive.
I feel my dad's eyes on me for a brief second, and I know he probably feels bad for bringing me into this. Which is good, he should. I don't look back at him because I've adopted his stubbornness too, and I want him to carry on being lousy because that's how I feel at the moment.

"It'll be over quick, just as soon as Ringo, John and the lo-" He starts to reassure, but his attention is directed towards the door that has opened behind us. John walks through it, a frown settled upon the features that always seem to a smile embedded in them on the papers. With him is Yoko, as usual, his son Sean, and to my surprise Julian. John never usually had Julian with him, even when he was with his other wife, Cynthia.

"Paul," John beams. His lips form a small but genuine grin that my dad returns. They don't embrace, but the air between them isn't bitter. John removes his eyes off my dad, and over to me. He gives me a grin, wider than the one he mustered for my father, and I smile back at him. Mine is less genuine than his, but it's evident.

"You don't look too much like your daddy anymore." John states simply and I nod. "You've really grown since I seen ya last. How old are you?"

"Fourteen," I answer simply and he laughs in disbelief.

"Sorry I missed so many birthdays."

I shrug my shoulders and return my gaze to the glass. I'm not being rude, I simply just am not in the talking mood at the moment. My father doesn't take to me not giving John more of my attention, and he gives me a look before speaking again.

"Is that Julian Lennon you've got beside you, John? Or that a brother of yours I don't know 'bout?"

In the glass I can see the reflections of the people behind me, especially Julian's, who's stood the nearest to it. He's got a crooked grin from my father's comment, and John has a small but evident grin, too. My dad has one as well, and that makes me feel a bit better about this situation. If he and John, the worst fighters of the four of them, can get along nicely then I don't see as to why not it can't go that way with all of them in here. I hope it does, I really do.

"Little Jules isn't so little anymore, is he?" John asks Paul, and my dad only nods before returning his gaze back to George in the recording booth. I can see him chew at his bottom lip in the glass, which is habit of his he only does when he's bored or unsure of what to do. I don't think he necessarily knows how to talk to John anymore, if I'm being honest but then again I wasn't quite old enough to know exactly how he talked to him before. I wasn't even around my dad until I was four, and I know that his and John's relationship was well developed and on the brink of becoming broken that time. At least, that's how he recalls it.

"Hey, why don't the two of you go and wander about the place, you and Jules?" My dad asks as the music stops filling the room. I see George rise from his chair and place the guitar in the corner of the room on it's stand. 

"Alright," is all I say before standing from my chair. I don't need much convincing to not have to be in the same room as George Harrison, John Lennon and Paul McCartney all at the same time. Julian follows quickly after, and soon we're both in the quiet hallways of this much too big of a house, doing nothing but stealing quick glances at one another and resting in awkward silence. 

"So," I start, wanting to say something, "Your John's kid? I haven't seen you in awhile."

He nods his head. "And your Paul's?"

It's my turn to nod my head. We fall back into silence for a few more seconds, before a thought comes to mind. 

"Hey Julian," I say and he looks over at me, eyebrows rose in anticipation. "Did you know that we're the first Beatles' children to ever met each other?"

"No I didn't." He shook his head no, smiling. "I guess that means we've mad 'history,' huh?" 

I smile back at him. "Yeah," I say. "We've making history." 

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This is kinda boring but it's only the start and I'm kinda stuck on how to get it rolling, so bare with me. These first few chapters will probably be kinda boring like this. Thanks for reading though!