The End (Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 36

JOHN

That's it. She wasn't coming.

George's fingers drummed on the table. Brrrop. Brrrop. Mine tapped harshly into the table, pitpitpitpitpit. Two glasses clinked onto the table.

"Thank you," George said politely.

"Mhmm," and the tender was back at the bar, wiping glasses, waiting, it seemed, with us.

She decided not to show up. I must've been daft for thinking she would.

Shhhrrrrrop. George took a long loud sip from his glass. Brrrop. Pitpitpitpit.

"What time is it?" My voice was gruff.

Silence as George turned his hand to look at his watch, then more silence to make out the precise location of the hands. "Five after."

I leaned back into the seat of the booth and grabbed my left knuckle in my right hand. Pop.

Five after. It was too late. Pop.

That lying twit. If only she had thought about what she was doing to me- Pop.

Never missing a chance to hurt me. To twist me around until I could no longer bear it.

Pop. I switched to my other hand.

"John, it's only been a few minutes. She'll be here." Pop. 

PRUDENCE

 Breathe in, breathe out. Again. Count to ten. Shake the nerves out. Crack the neck. Grab a string and pull. In, out, in, out.

JOHN

A pause. Then George lifted his glass, and shhhrrrrrop, took another drink.

POP. My knuckle shrieked at the sudden force of my hand. I flung my hands apart from each other and grabbed my drink. The cold condensation pasted my skin to the glass. I threw the liquid down with a voluminous GULP and banged the empty glass onto the table.

"Ta, Harrison." I grabbed the back of the booth and began to hoist myself out of it, silently cursing myself for falling into her trap yet another time, why, John, did you have to keep on with this game, why couldn't you move on, be happy and not get entangled in the snare-

"She's here." George looked placidly beyond me, to the front door, which opened and closed swiftly, wooopht. I was still half in, half out of the seat, holding on to the back.

The sound of her shoes was soft. She wasn't wearing heels. Fabric whooshed with every step. Bangles clinked with every other. I heard her hair sway, her fingers pass her thighs, her eyelashes swoop closed and open again.

I slowly dropped myself back into the seat as George waved to her. I raised my glass, and the bartender nodded, working on another.

"Hello, Pru," George said softly, standing up and sidling out of the booth, no longer in my line of sight. I refused to look anywhere but straight ahead. I listened to everything they said and did, planting myself further and further into my seat.

I wouldn't run away this time. I tried to steady my heavy breathing, and my fingers started to pitpitpitpit again.

"How are you?"

"Alright." A bangle swooshed, fabric meshed: they were hugging. "And you?"

"The same." Shoes shuffled. "Would you like to sit down?"