And I Love You (McLennon)

Part 1

                                                                  7 Feburary 1964

                 After placing his luggage in the carrier above his head, Paul sunk back deeply into his plane seat, planning on catching some shut eye before they took off and headed to America for their first tour of the country. He stared out the window at the thousands of screaming teenage girls who were either crying or fainting, or both. Paul shook his head slightly, and rolled his eyes.

“Bloody girls don’t know how to control their raging hormones..,” he whispered quietly to himself as he sighed and whipped out a newspaper with the four lads’ faces on the front page. His eyes then lifted off the page when a sudden movement caught his attention.  It was John, who had arrived late, breathing heavily from the running across the airport runway and up the stairs connected to the plane.

“Sorry I’m late, lads. I was..,” he paused, and turned his attention to the window. There were two girls being carried away by bodyguards waving ridiculously at John, in which he returned the wave, and then he completed his thought with a chuckle of delight, “distracted”. Paul raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head smirked lightly, putting on the mask he always put on for John and then returned his attention back to the newspaper, purposefully hiding his face, which was lightly colored pink. Paul couldn’t help but feel a deep jealousy for the girls. He was so tired of every female fan being practically on top of John, knowing that their undergarments were sopping just by looking at him. It made him utterly sick.  

The newspaper that he used as a security blanket was then ripped from his hands so quickly, his reaction time to grab the newspaper was too slow. “Peek a boo!” John yelled in Paul’s face, chuckling as he grabbed the seat beside him. Paul let out a small laugh and then gently placed his head in the palm of his hand as he rested his elbow on arm rest. He then felt John’s elbow sharply nudge him in his arm jokingly, continuing to smile radiantly. “C’mon Paulie, why so glum? We’re going to America! Cheer up!” Paul turned towards him, and gave him a cheesy grin, attempting to satisfy John, and then laid his head back into his hand, his eyes drooping with debilitation.

He could still feel a pair of eyes piercing the back of his head, so he slowly lifted it back up to meet John’s gaze. John lifted his eyebrows, the smile of his was erased from his face. Paul wasn’t used to seeing a serious look on his face, so he had caught his full attention. “So, uh, y’gonna tell me what’s wrong ?,” John asked with a low, gruff tone. Paul’s eyes then traveled down towards the ground, thinking about how to respond to his question. He quickly glanced back up to John and grinned. “Nothing’s wrong!” Paul said quickly for a cover up. John turned in his seat to face towards Paul more, and raised an eyebrow. “That’s a load of rubbish, and y’know it.” He said quietly. He looked behind his shoulders to see what the other lads were doing. Ringo had already passed out, his head lying against a pillow that was propped up against the window. George was sitting beside him stuffing his face with little finger sandwiches which were being served by the flight attendants. As soon as John saw that they were both fully occupied, he turned his attention back towards Paul and leaned forward. “You can tell me what’s on yer mind, y’know..,” He said with an undertone, touching his arm lightly as to give Paul his full sincerity.

Paul’s first reaction was to quickly jerk away his arm. It caught him by full surprise that John touched him in such a….close, intimate way. Paul blinked, clearing his throat as he did so, before speaking up. “Well, um.. I-uh..,” his voice trails off before he can speak another word. Paul could feel John’s eyes beaming down upon him, making him feel so flustered.

“Paul, I know you’ve something on your chest, and we both know that I’m your best mate. So, why don’t cha just tell me?” John asked with a comforting smile, putting his elbow on the armrest between he and Paul, resting his chin on his fist.

Paul softly bit his bottom lip, fighting with himself on whether he should tell John or not. John’s eyes were so convincing, and yet, he didn’t want to mess up their friendship if John didn’t feel the same way, or found it too uncomfortable. It was the early 1960’s, after all, and for a male to have these certain feelings for another male was not widely accepted. So, therefore, he also had other people to deal with if the news were to spread around like a wildfire. Paul took in a deep breathe, as if to say something, but he just sighed deeply in his frustration, turning his head away while biting down nervously on his pointer finger.  

Paul suddenly heard John sigh. Paul slightly looked over at the smirk that was painted across John's face, giving Paul a slight shrug. “Alright, suit yourself.” John pulled the newsy cap over his eyes, leaned his seat back as far as it could and fell right to sleep.

Paul couldn’t help but to watch the man sleep. To him, this was one of his favorite parts about John. When John was awake, he was always the bizarre one out of the group that was always doing something spontaneous and unexpected. Always checking out to see which chick he could pick up next. However, Paul had noticed that when John was asleep, there was a sense of virtuousness about him.

Paul thought as himself as the one person who knew John the best. The one person who knew that his favorite color was green. That he loved cornflakes for breakfast. He was there for him when his mother was killed in the car crash, comforting him in any way possible.  Paul wanted to be able to be there for him. Through everything else that happened throughout the rest his life. The rest of their lives. Through the trials and triumphs that they may share together.  Through the intense emotional rollercoaster ride that was John Winston Lennon.

 No one is born as a whole person. Everyone has a soul mate. Someone to be in sync with at all times so as to finish each others’ sentences. To know every move, every thought, and every feeling that person displays without having them say a single word. To be able to go home every night after a miserable day just to hear them say that everything is going to be alright. Paul loved every perfect imperfection about John. He knew about all of the broken pieces of John’s life, and he wanted to be the one to pick them up and put them together again. Paul’s yearning to tell John the truth pestered him. He was sure he would never know if John felt the same. Paul turned his head promptly, a sigh escaping his lips as he grabbed the pillow from underneath his seat, propped it against the seat behind his head, and closed his eyes and fell silently asleep next to his best friend.