paper crown (been rewritten better under the name "Wonderwall - mclennon")

Chapter 24

   Ringos pov

   "do you think that in this album you're going to be experimenting with new techniques?"

   The journalist directed the query towards John rather than all of us seeing as they tend to assume that he is the one that makes all the big choices around here. John had been rather involved the entire interview, answering more questions in a lot more detial than he used to. Perhaps it was to give Paul a bit of a rest, or perhaps he was just in a witty mood.
 
  "yeah I'd say we are. Paul's written something this morning that'd get on the album for sure. Probably a stripped back song with just a guitar. In comparison to our full band stuff."

  John explained to the interested press, who jotted down what he said on their small notebooks. Once Paul retreated upstairs earlier John swiftly returned to the living room with his notebook in hand. We assumed he was going upstairs to get ready for the interview something and left him be while we went over the song. I mean, it was probably hard to change with a fucking tube connecting your nose to your hip, nevermind while you were incredibly weak so we let him have the extra time.
   We all briefly looked over the song before we left, John holding the notebook while crossed legged on the carpet with me and George on either side of his shoulder peering over at the messy handwriting on the pages. All three of us getting a rough feel for how the words stringed together to make a song. He had written a good one, no doubt about it.

   "Paul, what is the song about?"

   A second reporter asked, this time directing it at Paul- who had been noticeably quiter during this interview.

  "just the usual. It's going to be one of the slower songs on the album."

   Paul answered. Just as he did a piece of paper slid over the table and hit me in the forearm - which were crossed on the table. I looked to my right to see John pushing the note further towards me. Descretly, I opened and read the letter.

   Can I come straight to yours after this? I need to talk to you and I can't wait until tonight

_______________

 
   John's pov

  I pushed the phone away from be for what must have been the tenth time that evening. As promised I had driven myself over to Ringos for the night once the sound check and quick interview had finished. I explained what happened to him in full. Making me feel an ounce of guilt and spreading what I think Paul hoped to be private information.
   But I did have to tell someone, and I'm sure Paul would have wanted it to have been Ringo more than anyone.

   We sat in Ringos, rather spacious, kitchen and he sat in silence as I went over the events. Occasionally nodding and even rubbing my back when I seemed to get myself worked up. It was definetly hard taking about my rejection, especially when the wound was very much still open. But in the end I think it'll help me get over it quicker.
   Once I had finished explaining Ringo picked up his phone attached to the wall and kept trying to put the receiver up to my ear she he diled pauls number.

   "he's obviously not thinking straight right now. You need to be there for him and show him you love him!"

  Ringo insisted. I did want to talk to him. It was hard acting as if I didn't care when I was undoubtedly heartbroken by the whole chain of events. I didn't want to be a burden to Paul while he was going through this nor did I want to make him feel guilty if he saw how sad I was.

  "hello?"

  Paul's soft voice sounded into my ear. Jesus christ Ringo! Quickly I shot Ringo a death glare before taking the receiver into my own hands. Here we fucking go.

    "hey macca, it's John."

  I took a cuppa Ringo made for me in my free hand as I waited for Paul's response.

  "oh hey John!"

  Paul said, rather cheerfully.

  "hey, so I wanted to talk about that night. In strawberry fields."

  ______________________________________

  The familiar sound of my beatle boots hitting the tiles was loud and clear in the empty mersey square once again. The only sound to muffle it bring the sound of heavy rain falling around me. Raindrops effectively mixing in with my tears as I walked to the harbour. I don't even know what I was doing anymore. It was almost as if someone else was controlling my feet, but it was really my own mind.
   The phone call with John soon turned heated. He told me how I broke his heart, made him miserable and so much more. Causing waves of guilt to hit me like a tsunami. Everything was fine until a few weeks ago where my world as I knew it came crashing down around me. My life will never go back to how it was and I was having a dam hard time accepting that.

   I climbed on to the harbour wall as I thought. My thoughts seemed to be louder than any sound around me. Wether it was the rain or the sound of my boots it didn't compare to the sound of my thoughts in my head at this time.
  Nervously, I played with my thumbs as I let my feet dangle over the edge. I took in the sight of the cold, icy waters crashing against the harbour and cascading back down only to do it again, relentless, like my thoughts. With a croaked voice I began to sing, feeling shivers of coldness serge through my frail body.

   "yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as through they're here to stay, oh I belive in yesterday."

   The night air was so chilly I felt as if I was loosing feeling in my fingers, toes and knees. My body was becoming numb. All the better for what my mind was begging to do.

   Shakily, I stood up. My legs rattling like straws as I put my weight onto them. My toes were over the edge, the wind was strong, my thoughts were screaming. It was as if my entire life was leading up to this short moment. I felt as if I was being pushed to do this with my own mind. As if I wanted it deep down.
   I took a brief moment to remove my boots and ring, using the worn boots to disguise the exspinsive ring. My shakely hands did thier best to write "for John" on a recipet which I also put in my boots.

   Enough stalling. I stood up straight again and for the last time looked around the square. Where I grew up. I saw the butchers where is get meat from with my mum, I saw the hairdressers where I got my first haircut, I saw the record shop me and John would requent. I saw my childhood, how I was happy, all my memories with those I loved. Being completely oblivious to the fact I ass going to leave it all behind here. John was going to walk through here almost everyday, he was going to see where we laughed and played and also where it came crashing down. I was selfish. I can't believe I could be capable of causing people so much pain. I've done this, it's no one's fault but mine.

    I looked down again at the cold waters, there was no ladder or life rings. Only cold, murky water and seaweed covered walls. Fit for a princess wearing her paper crown.
   The world seemed to stop as I tipped over the edge. I could see me and John in my mind so vividly as I fell. I could see a bright smile on his face as he plated guitar. Then I could see the love in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss me. What have I done, I could be happy, I knew I could!
  But, as I realised it, it was already too late, my body made contact with the icy water and it was over. The pain I felt in that moment was all too much. Not really from the impact but from the life I had thrown away in that instant.

  With my dying breath, already under the water, I breathed out "John"