The End (Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 38

JOHN

"Yes, I'm lonely, wanna die."

I sang the lyrics softly, under my breath. Everyone was on the other side of the studio, and they couldn't hear me, but I still made an effort to play very quietly.

"Yes, I'm lo-onely, wanna die."

Paul and Ringo were studying some papers with the recording engineers. George sat farther away, cigarette in hand, and talked with Mal.

"If I ain't dead already, girl you know the reason why." I didn't play the riff, just strummed the three chords straightforwardly.

"In the morning..." My singing died down as I watched Mal stand up and slap his hand on George's shoulder before walking over to the rest.

I snatched the opportunity, dropping my guitar on the floor and rushing over to the seat which Mal previously occupied. I stopped, however, before I sat in it.

George had his chin in his hand. His hair fell over his face, covering his eyes. His other hand lied on the table, fingers raised slightly to cradle the cigarette.

"George-"

"Yes," he answered gruffly, darting his eyes up at me. He brought the ciggie to his lips, his stare unyielding.

"I, uh..." I scratched my elbow awkwardly, losing track of what I had planned to say.

"I knew you wouldn't say anything," George muttered. "Just five more seconds, and you'll be runnin' out that door, right?"

I didn't answer. George released me from his gaze, and I let out a relieved breath. He resumed his sagged stance, smoke drifting around him.

"You didn't bring Yoko along today?" He kept his voice deliberately level, but I felt the sting of his words. "I can't imagine why. It's not like anything happened the other night."

I heard Ringo laugh in the background at something Paul said. I forced myself into the seat across from George, and leaned forward on the table. He didn't react, simply brushed ashes into a tray.

"Was she bad when I... when I left?" I choked out the last part, not willing to admit what I had done.

George chuckled. "'Bad' is an understatement." He turned his head towards the center of the studio. His expression was stoic, illuminated by the pallid ceiling lights."She screamed and cried for hours. Was a nervous wreck."

I dropped my head. My actions were inexcusable, and it pained me to think on them.

"She blamed herself, you know," George continued. "She called herself a fool for falling for you." He was trying to get at me, but I wouldn't snap back at him. I was too upset with myself.

"Lads?" Paul was suddenly right next to us. George and I both looked up at him. He hesitantly crossed his arms and glanced at each of us in turn. "Everything alright?" We hadn't spoken since yesterday, when I told him that I loved Pru, but nothing had happened since then.

"'Course," George replied, furrowing his brows. I nodded silently, drumming my fingers on the table.

Paul opened his mouth, but closed it again. After a beat, he said, "How about we start to work then?" George bobbed his head, and vaguely satisfied with that, Paul slowly walked away.

George turned to me, raising an eyebrow and waiting for an answer. I didn't have one; there was nothing I could say that could justify my running out of her flat.