I'm Looking Through You // Mclennon

rejoice

"Alright, what is that smell?" I asked myself as my eyes shot open from my sleep.
"...Breakfast?"

I glanced around me and noticed the room that I was in. Adorned in modern, minimalistic white and grey furniture.
Yeah, definitely not my own.

Right. I stayed at John's place. John Lennon's apartment. And I guess he's cooking breakfast for himself...
It smelt wonderful, I'll have to admit.

I sat up and stretched my arms way above my head and let out a loud yawn. I then tossed the warm blankets off of me and began to head down to the kitchen. Just to see what that bloke's up to.

Walking down the hallway, the scent of pancakes, bacon and eggs grew stronger and stronger... And that much more tempting.

     You'd probably think I'd still feel horribly nervous being around here... and around him... but I don't. Not really, anyway. I can't describe it but it's just as if nothing ever went wrong between us, like we've only picked right up where we left off all those years ago. It's a relief, honestly.

"Look who finally decided to wake up!" John laughed, fixing up a plate and setting it on the table. "I was gettin' a bit worried, ye know that?"

"I was up since four in the mornin' yesterday, Lennon, can ye blame me for bein' a bit tired?" I replied, sitting down at the chair that had been pulled out.

"Ah... Jus eat. Christ, yer still nothin' but a little prima donna, yeah?" He said that last part under his breath.

I smiled sarcastically at him and stabbed my fork into an egg, cooked very near to perfection. John only sat at the island in his kitchen, sipping some tea. His hair was messy and his shirt clearly hadn't been ironed in some time... if ever. Every now and then, John would look up from the counter and we'd end up making very brief eye contact with one another. It felt weird. All of this did. And yet, everytime that his gaze met mine, it was as if random memories from the past would quickly flash through my mind. Okay, now I couldn't handle the silence hanging over us for another second.

"Ye gonna eat, too?" I asked with a mouthful of food.

"Yeah! I mean, I will later; I don't usually eat so early. Um. When yer done, though, ye wanna listen to some old records?" He replied with optimism. "I stayed up late last night organizing 'em. No rush."

  I smiled again, looking up at the man, "Quite random, but yeah, alright." I said.

It honestly made me feel real honored to know that John made this whole breakfast just for me. It makes me feel...

important. To someone. To him, I guess.

"So, how'd ye sleep?" John asked me, finally joining me at the table.

"Pretty good, uh... Thanks again for... lettin' me stay 'ere with ye, John. On such short notice, at that. It's really generous of you." I replied softly. "I do appreciate it."

John tilted his head up to face me and half-smiled into him palm, "Yeah. ...Well, there's no sense in ye gettin' a hotel room jus to spend all yer time here wi' me, right?" John spoke to me in a rather matter-of-fact way, his eyebrows raised, conveying a knowing look to him, "Don't sell me short, Macca, I'm clever enough to know that I'm the only person ye'd fly out to in the middle of the night to come and see. In New York, of all places."

I stayed perfectly silent.

"Ah... What I mean is that... C'mon, yer always welcome here, Macca. Ye know that." John finished. "I mean, don't feel like such a stranger after... everything we've been through." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Yeah... Um..." I stuttered, "So, the records?"

"Right!" John hopped down, "Come on, then."

I followed him to his living room down the bland hallway. This room was pretty empty except for a television, two couches, a table and a few houseplants. Oh, and ofcourse the turntable in the corner with mountains of record next to it.

John sat down with his legs folded as he scanned through the vinyl collection, "What ye wanna hear?"

"Got any Eddie Cochran records?" I asked with a raised brow.

"What kind o' question is that? 'Course I do!" John replied before yanking out, 'Singin' To My Baby,' a record by Cochran. "Had this one for ages."

"A classic, that one is!" I replied in a shocked tone before taking a cigarette out of a carton that was in my jacket pocket.

John carefully placed the needle upon the thin record and turned the knob on the front of the turntable. A low crackling sound emitted from the speakers until the sound slowly turned into that familiar "doo-wap" tune.

John twirled as he stood up and began to sing along to the record in a deep tone, "...I'm jus a-sittin' in the balcony!"
He then turned to me, as if to ask me to join in.

So.

I did.

"...Jus a-watchin' the movie!" I smiled as I mimicked that iconic Eddie Cochran voice.

Then we both joined in together, "...Or maybe it's a symphony, I wanna know!"

"I don't care abou' the symphonies! -Those cymbals and timpanis! ...Jus a-sittin' in the balcony! ...On the very last row!" John jokingly twirled me around as we harmonized with one another.

"I'll hold yer hand... And I'll kiss ye too..." John said slowly, leaning into me. I hummed along with the background singers, also allowing John to grow closer to my face. His eyes staring into mine with a new glow burning within them. One I hadn't had the opportunity to notice before.

Maybe my heart's beating so fast from all the dancing, but who really knows. It was almost as if John was just trying to make me as flushed as he possibly could.
He licked his lips.

"The feature's over, ...but we're not through." He emphasized. "Mhm..."

John then backed up, "...Jus a-sittin' in the balcony!"
I threw my head back in joyous laughter as he continued to sing whimsically.

"Holdin' hands in the balcony!"

"Jus a-sittin' in the balcony! ...On the very last row!"

"Jus a-smoochin' in the balcony! Jus a-huggin' and a-kissin' my baby... on the very last row!" John finished the last verse.

He then laid his hand underneath my chin and tilted my face up towards his, making direct eye contact with me, causing my face to turn a deep shade of red under his touch.

As the song reached the ending, I snapped at the flirtatious boy, "John... Cut it out..."

John only leaned in closer, the surface of my face feeling hotter than coals. His pointy nose was very nearly touching mine.

John smiled, "Jeez, yer still so easy after all these years, Macca!"

My eyes widened instantly, "What's that s'posed to mean?!"

John laughed, "It ain't bad or anythin'! S'just who ye are. It's kind of sweet, no?"

I shoved John sarcastically, "Don't get any funny ideas, Lennon, I ain't wrapped around yer little finger anymore!"

"Sure." John said under his breath, probably thinking I didn't hear.

But I did.

And hearing him say that made my mind race.

     He then began to head back towards the kitchen, quickly patting my back as he walked passed me, "I really missed ye, Paulie."