For No One || A Beatles Fanfiction

E i g h t e e n

"Well well well," John mused as Paul and I walked into the studio the next day. "If it isn't Mr. and Mrs. McCharmley!"

The two of us paid no attention to him as we were used to the constant taunting. I eyed George from across the room, biting his lower lip nervously and absentmindedly strumming impartial cords. He seemed a bit disheveled with his hair curiously sticking up and the dark tone below his eyes.

Wondering what had seemingly taken the life out of him, I began to make my way towards that end of the room before Paul grabbed my wrist and tugged me towards the sound booth.

As he shut the door quickly behind us, I figured he was looking for a quick kiss before arguing with John for next few hours. However, when the lad who had just been as happy as ever turned towards me, even a blind fellow could tell snogging wasn't what was on his mind.

"Something's off with you." His voice was deep and quiet as though we were in a crowd of people and he was trying to tell me a secret.

"Well if you must know, I have started using a new mascara."

Paul shook his head quickly, all the sudden seeming impatient. "You know what I mean, Blair."

I crossed my arms, annoyed at how little I could do to prevent these lads from asking 'what's wrong?'. I tried everything last night to convince Paul I had nothing on my mind but him after what had happened in the restroom. Skipping back home, making hot chocolate, giggling uncontrollably at his lame attempts to be James Dean. All of it was exhausting and the last thing I had been wanting to do at that moment but I played along just so I wouldn't be questioned as I am now.

"What on earth made you think there was something wrong?" The playful tone in my voice had been replaced with a tension that I'd never expected to use towards Paul.

Surprised himself, the lad looked a bit taken aback. He opened his mouth to say something before gazing at me quizzically. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

With that, he slowly turned and walked out of the room, leaving me to stomp my feet like a child who had been told 'no' to a new puppy. Why was it that I couldn't be upset about something without having to indulge the whole group?

Even though I knew the answer and couldn't unknowingly blame them, I just wished that I didn't have so many dramatic experiences to tell.

Checking my watch, I saw that the band still had a few more minutes till recording started. Martin (which was what we had started calling him to make things less confusing with having two George's) and Brian still weren't here, otherwise the lads would've been forced to start early. Knowing all of this, I thought about going to see what was wrong with George.

And after watching him mess up the cords to one of his most beloved songs, I knew I had to. But thinking about how quickly I had become upset with Paul, I thought best to wait until after I had some time to recompose myself.

As if my hesitation had summoned them directly, Martin and Brian came striding into the room, discussing something in hushed voices so low that the lads hadn't even noticed they came in.

I watched from the safety of the booth as Brian nodded finally and stepped forward, clearing his throat to get the band's attention. "Blair!" he said loudly but, to my relief, not in an aggravated manner. "This includes you too, I suppose."

I emerged from the sound booth, hesitant as to what was so important that I had been included.

"As you lot know, we are close to finishing this record-"

"We?" John amusedly interrupted.

Throwing an impatient glance at the confident boy, Brian went on. "Martin and I have been discussing how best to promote the album." He paused as if to give a moment of suspension; knowing him well enough, I fully believed that's what he intended to do. "We have decided to schedule a few concerts in Brussels to get it some traction."