Hamburg

4. John is Not

The tension had doubled up and, suddenly, John couldn't take the strange energy any longer. He quickly shook his head, determined not to be questioned about his... Sexuality.

"No, no," he laughed hesitantly. "I know. Just, messin', Paul. Gosh, you're tight, aren't you!"

"Oh," Paul blushed. "Oh but I don't mind if you are, by the way. Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against the er-"

"God, Paul," John got up and walked away towards the window in the room. "Stop embarrassing yourself. What made you think that? I may be blind as a bat but I know what I like."

"So," Paul stuttered, eyes shooting around the room, trying to find the right words. "Stuart is... Just..."

"Oh my god," John laughed coldly, turning around to look at Paul in the eyes. "You'd really think- me and Stu? Paul, I thought we knew each other? Don't we?"

"We do!"

"Do we?"

"I'm sorry!" Paul stood up and approached John with caution. "I swear, I just thought... See, I read somewhere that one in four men or women are, y'know..."

"Queer, Paul," John said, lighting a cigarette. "Stop being so frigid and say the word. It won't choke you. Queer, homosexual."

Paul was lost for words. He felt a slight disappointment. It was strange but he preferred the idea that John were not straight, just because it was the idea he was used to and because it just gave John more of a personality- not that he didn't already have enough. But then again, he didn't like it all that much either when John "messed around" with Stuart. It wasn't funny and he didn't feel so comfortable about it either. He looked away from John, returning back to his bed.

John cursed to himself and mumbled something under his breath, so lowly that Paul couldn't even hear it from such a short distance of two meters.

"What?"

"Where the hell is George?" John said, "Probably homesick, want to go back to his mam. I don't blame him, y'know. This land is rotten. Nothin' good can grow out of it." John kicked a bag, filled with bottles and other discarded items. "Don't we all wanna go back to our mams. Be loved for whoever we are."

"I love you for who you are, John," said Paul.

John studied Paul's desperate eyes for a moment, searching for a sign- any sign, until he nodded briefly and sighed. He grabbed a half empty bottle of beer that was left upon his bed stand and drank from it.

"You don't believe me," said Paul, as if realising something very grave, a statement announced, open to correction.

John didn't say anything. There was nothing left to say.

"Hamburg will never be a bad idea, John," Paul said, his voice delicate as though he were experiencing some kind of outer bodily experience. "I know, something good will come out of all this. We all know."

John went back to his bed and sat on the edge, eyes to his knees, hands clasped together.

"John," said Paul.

John looked up with watering eyes, almost as if he knew what Paul would say, and saw a pair of glittering eyes, capable of none but the truth.

"Cynthia and Mimi knows it too," said Paul. "And so does she."