Fic: And We'll Never Know The Reason

That night didn’t really differ from any other. They played the concert, withdrew at the hotel as silently as they could with the screaming fans behind them and then, exhausted as ever prepared for the night after Brian had had few firm words about them going immediately to sleep. Which the boys gladly would do even without Brian’s attempts to be their mother. So they ate a bit, showered, washed their teeth and after changing few words in the common room they parted into their own rooms. Usually it would be John rooming with Ringo and Paul rooming with George, but tonight had Ringo complained about never seeing George anymore and so they had silently all agreed to change the sleeping arrangements; John went with Paul and George went with Ringo and everyone was happy. Or so they thought.

That night neither John nor Paul wanted to do something. They were too tired and their muscles were too sore for even trying some kind of an illegal act that they both liked very much thank you. So they just moved their beds together and climbed in, John wrapping both of his arms around Paul and Paul snuggling against John’s chest happily, peacefully breathing in and out through his nose. John stroked Paul’s hair sleepily and Paul pushed his left leg between John’s ones, tickling at the older man’s stomach with his fingers. Everything was normal; nothing differed from the usual when they got some time together. Although usually they would change few kisses, but tonight even that seemed too hard and they just wanted to enjoy some closeness they both liked with each other.

When Paul was almost asleep and John was nearly there too there was one single scream coming outside. John didn’t think about it too hard, after all he had gotten used to people screaming all the time, everywhere, any time. And actually there was no reason for him even to start thinking otherwise as it was just a normal fan. John curled his other hand on the back of Paul’s head and pressed his nose against Paul’s hair, breathing in the smell of the bassist. Slowly his mind started to slow down and wander and after five minutes, he was sleeping.

The morning came quite normally, the night had passed without interruptions and the only thing that had changed was still pretty much unnoticed. Two figures were still wrapped up with each other; the other one snuggled against the other’s chest. It was when Paul woke up that he knew that something was wrong.

It wasn’t so much of information than an instinct. His mouth tasted different but somehow not unfamiliar and he knew immediately that he was sleeping on the wrong side of the bed. Still without opening his eyes, he frowned and stroked at the hair under his hand in his thoughts.

After some time that he had spent fighting against falling asleep again he decided to stand up and go to wash his teeth because the taste on his tongue was really weird. So he rolled over, hearing a vague groan from the other one under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed trying to stop the dizziness in his head. He stood up and without glancing back, only lifting his hand to his forehead to try if he had fever, walked into the bathroom, turned, switched the light on and accidentally glanced at the mirror.

The whole world was silent.

And then he shouted. And his voice came out, harsh and full of rock’n’roll, and the voice was so familiar.

As was the face that stared at him from the mirror, eyes full of terror, auburn hair sticking out anywhere but where they should be, crooked nose, strong jaw line…

Paul lifted his hands and stared at them. Young man in the mirror did the same. He pressed his palms against his cheeks. The man did it too. He hit his cheek so hard his head flew on the other side. The man hit himself too.

Paul stared in the face that he knew so well, knew every detail of it and now he also knew why the strange taste in his mouth was so familiar.

It all belonged to John Lennon.