''John.'' whispered Paul
''What do you want Paul?'' he whispered back
''I'm cold.'' he whined
''So?'' he responded
''You're taking all the covers and all the space. Move over.''
''I can't move over, I'll fall.''
''Then what can I do? My feet are freezing, I can't sleep like this.''
''You can sleep on the floor.'' John snapped at him
''You're not the one freezing. My hands have gone numb.'' he whined again
John sighed as he fumbled under the covers, taking Paul's hands and holding them between his.
''How are you so warm?''
''I don't know. Mimi used to say I gave out as much heat as a bear fur.'' He rubbed his hands against his friends and he blew on them for a while.
''Better?'' he asked but his best friend was already asleep, snoring softly. John smiled and didn't let go of Paul's hands, comparing Paul's and his in the faint moonlight that filtrated through the bedroom curtains. George and Ringo were sleeping in an identical bed in a room beside them. Brian hadn't found any single beds, so they each had had to share. John always shared with Paul, it was a sort of an unspoken agreement between the five of them, splitting them up was out of the question. John always liked watching Paul play, his clever hands strumming his bass guitar, his soft voice sometimes being his chorus, his echo or simply being the lead voice in the song. He liked the way he sometimes had to brush his hair out of his eyes and how sometimes he caught him staring at him as he played his guitar. They had always had had an unspoken connection, since they had first met at school and laid eyes on each other. Only now, the connection had revealed its true reasons, but neither of them had the courage to bring it up. He pressed Paul's hand to his lips, kissed it for a few seconds and let it go. He turned over as lightly as he could as to not wake Paul, closed his eyes and he fell asleep almost instantly.
