Classic Rock Oneshots

Help!

The air that was supposed to come back to my lungs didn't. I'd breathe out, but all the girls surrounding me, their choaking perfume and loud, desperate screams consumed poor little me. I couldn't see the stage now either which, out of all of it, pissed me off the most. I could only half recognise the tune from Eight Days A Week through the mountains of limbs and hot, sweaty bodies.

I had stopped yelling out girlishly in hopes for one of the Fab Four to notice me as I declared my endless love for them; now instead, using all the possible air I could, to scream out for help. I was short and thin and seemed to slip through the gaps between crying teenage girls, so I really didn't expect anyone to hear me. Alas, there's no harm in trying.

***

It was so outrageously loud that John hadn't bothered with the lyrics anymore. Who would know if he started screeching out rude profanities to the crowd of unlistening people?

"Our government is full of bastards!" He yells instead of singing to Please Please Me. It turns out the crew, who stood directly in front of the deafening speakers could, miraculously, hear him.

"Cut it out, Lennon!" Mal, the roadie for the group, shouted through his earpiece (because, yes they did have earpieces back then).

"They can't fucking hear me!" He yells to an oblivious audience; even the band could hardly hear what their singer was on about. "I can't bloody hear me!"

"Behave," Mal orders sternly and, after giving him a scoff and a scowl, John goes back to singing to regular lyrics with less than boredom. His almond eyes scan the crowd of mammoth proportions in front of him and he unenthusiastically gives a weary smile to the cameras in the front row.

Beside him, George seemed very fixated on something. John didn't notice at first, but as he glanced over at his friend and bandmate, he noticed that he was staring at something in the crowd like a beady-eyed eagle. The other guitarist nudged John and nodded with his head into the crowd. John followed his gaze and, although he couldn't see shit without his glasses, he faintly saw the outline of a small figure in the front. It was like the poor boy was trying to stay afloat amongst all the taller, wider girls.

"Oi, Mal?!" John shouts again into the mic, knowing the audience couldn't possibly here, but his roadie would just be able to.

"What did I tell you, Lennon!" Mal goes to yell in his earpiece, but John interrupts him, keeping his eyes trained on the small, helpless figure.

"There's a kid who's struggling in the audience! Get him out of there!" He screams over the screams and cocks his head in the direction of the poor lad.

Mal was a magical worker, and no task he was given was ever left undone, so he settled out to find the small, suffocating boy in the eighth row.

"Thank you, Sir!" I yell once I'd been rescued from the crowd and led backstage by this guy called Mal. The whole time I was backstage, I kept trying to, not-so-subtly, catch a glimpse of my idols, the fab four through the curtains and such until Mal saw what I was attempting to do and rolled his eyes with a smirk. He led me around to the very side of the stage where I got a clear view of each member of The Beatles. My eyes widened and everything in my body was buzzing in uncontrollable excitement. It only grew about a whole kilometre when John turned and squinted at me on the side stage. I wasn't sure he was looking my way, but he smirked that famous Lennon smirk and winked. I turn around to see if there was anybody else he could possibly be doing it to, but no one was there.

The rest of the show, I was a tingling mess. My clothes were ripped and torn from my battle with the crowd of girls and I swear I had a big bald patch at the front of my head from someone ripping at my hair, but I couldn't possibly be happier.

The show came to a halt all too soon and I felt as if I was going to faint when the fab four all bowed and came walking off stage, over to me! To me!

I was left in disappointment when the only one to even look my way was George. I was about to go off and cry dramatically, but as I turned on my heal to unhappily waddle away, an arm wrapped itself tightly around my thin waist.

"Are you alright there now, love!?" An unforgettable voice shouted in my ear over the crowd and I knew instantly who it was.

"J-J-John?" I squeak in utter disbelief, gawking at the fact the hottest man in all history had his arm around little old me. And was talking to me! He grinned widely and chuckled a little.

"Y-Y-Yeah." He laughs, mocking me. "That's my name, darling, and if I was you, I wouldn't wear it out." He winks and I think I'm going to wake up around about now. I pinch my arm and John cracks up, putting his hand over my hand. "No need sweetheart, I'm real alright." He smiles and I can't help but do so back.

"I gosh, darn, bloody hope so!" I laugh and sit down as he gestures for me to. As he sits down beside me, he takes a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and slips one between those perfect rosebud lips of his.

"Want one?" He asks, and with shaky hands, I hesitantly take one from the packet. John Lennon's packet of cigs.

"Thanks," I whisper quietly, biting down harshly on the bud to calm my horribly anxious nerves. He offers me a light and I lean into it.

"So what's your name, love?" He asks, blowing smoke from his lips artfully once lighting his own cigarette.

"D-Darren." I stammer and embarrassed by my nervousness, I distract myself with the cigarette sitting between my fingers daintily. John notices the shameful flush of red on my cheeks and lightly grabs my chin in his calloused fingers.

"I know you're nervous, love, but I am a human being, you know. Just like the rest of you. You don't need to try and impress me at all, I'm already impressed by you enough." He whispers, licking his lips and tingly shivers roll down my spine. Everything in my body is yelling and screaming with joy, but outwardly, I was an anxious wreck.

Silently, still not trusting my voice to not break embarrassingly, I nod. John just chuckles and leans forward, pecking my lips quickly and leaving my skin to burn tenderly with the contact. My eyes widen in shock and he simply grins goofily.

"Give me a call, yeah?" He says, taking my hand and scrunching a piece of paper into my palm. I gawk at him in shock and he slips an extra ciggie in my breast pocket, patting it down and whispering in my ear. "One for the road." He says and sneaks a small, cheeky kiss on the neck as he pulls away, winks, and swiftly waltzes away.

***

Request by my bro, Beatle_Boy_Blue